Now they were parked in an auxiliary lot and shuffling luggage from his car.
Like every time Walt had flown with Fairchild Charters, a man stood holding a sign with his name.
Mary giggled like a schoolgirl as they were valeted through security and led straight to the tarmac.
“Are you our pilot?” Dakota asked as they walked through the hoards of holiday travelers.
“I’m the copilot, Miss Laurens. The pilot is still on board.”
Both Walt and Dakota spotted the plane the moment they stepped onto the pavement. The familiar Fairchild name was written over the wing of the airplane, but unlike the others they’d been on, this one was massive. “Holy cow,” Dakota whispered.
“Is that it?” Mary asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes, ma’am,” the copilot offered. “Nothing but the best for the Fairchilds’ personal friends.”
Walt stood back and let the ladies walk up the steps and into the jet. He heard their reaction long before he saw what they gasped at.
Then he saw it.
“Holy shit.”
Dakota turned, her grin tried to fall but failed. “This is too much. We can’t accept this.”
It was beyond too much. Unlike the other charter planes he’d been on, this one had sofas and a huge big screen, a bar, and if he wasn’t mistaken, an entire bedroom suite through a door in the back.
“Trump called and wants his plane back,” Mary mumbled.
Dakota laughed and moved deeper into the luxury jet. “See, this . . . this is why I write. Who knows, maybe someday we can own something like this.”
Walt watched as joy stretched over her face and she sat on the lush leather sofa and placed a hand over their child.
We, she said we. Those words were fuel to his soul.
“Keep writing, babe. Who knows.”
A woman emerged from the back of the jet. “Welcome aboard,” she said. “I’m Mai and I’ll be taking care of you.” The tiny woman offered a full-toothed smile.
“Hi, Mai,” Mary said.
Mai looked directly at Dakota. “There’s a suite in back, if you need to rest.” Her eyes drifted to Dakota’s protruding belly.
“Thank you.”
Mai offered her smile again.
“There you are!”
From the cockpit, a familiar voice filled the cabin.
“Glen!”
Walt moved in for a handshake and man-hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Trent said we needed a plane, and my pilots were already scheduled.”
Walt glanced around his friend, looked into the cockpit. “You’re flying this monster?”
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she? A Falcon 900 completely remodeled on the inside to accommodate a family of ten comfortably. I heard the bed in the back is like sleeping on a cloud.”
Dakota moved behind him. “Hi Glen.”
“Hey, Dakota. When Monica said you were expecting, we knew we had to bring a plane with a bedroom.”
“I would have been fine without it.”
Glen shook his head. “That’s how we roll, Dakota.”
Walt started to comment when he noticed Glen’s gaze move beyond Dakota.
Glen stared toward Mary and an awkward moment of silence filled the plane. Walt glanced to Dakota, who was watching the others.
“Hi Mary.”
“Glen.” She paused. “I . . . I wasn’t expecting you.”
Glen’s eyebrows went up with a smile that bordered on cocky. “I’m a pilot.”
“You own the company.”
“I still fly . . . as often as I can.”
The moment of silence from before tripled.
“Mr. Fairchild,” the copilot interrupted.
“Yes, Ian?”
“We’ve been given clearance. Ten minutes.”
Glen clicked out of whatever trance he’d been in and smiled. “Make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be in the air shortly.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
They were less than two hours into the flight, Mai served them drinks, was preparing a meal within the hour, and Dakota and Walt were stretched out on the sofa, and all Mary could think about was the pilot.
What in the world was Glen doing flying this plane?
Dakota shifted on the sofa, looked toward the bedroom. “I feel like a balloon.”
“Flying and pregnancy do that,” Walt said.
She offered Mary a sympathetic look. “Would you mind?”
Mary nodded toward the back of the cabin. “Go on. You know you’re dying to check out the bedroom.” To help her friends move along, she tilted the deluxe seat she was sitting in to a reclining position and closed her eyes.
Walt and Dakota disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door.
The cloudless sky offered a great view of the earth below, but Mary didn’t concentrate on it.
Maybe Glen had a camera on the interior of the plane, or perhaps it was a coincidence that he made his appearance from the cockpit within a minute after Dakota and Walt disappeared. Still, Glen emerged from the small pilot space once she was alone. Even Mai ducked back into her private space.
“Are Walt and Dakota resting?”
She nearly rolled her eyes. “Nice deduction, Watson.”
Glen placed his six foot three frame into the seat across from her and smiled. It was bad enough the man towered over everything on the plane, his white uniform and pilot cap did something to her insides she didn’t want to identify. She didn’t have a uniform fetish. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and tight ass . . . yeah, that could be a fetish worth having.