Mary started to chew on that.
“No one likes being used.”
The pilot took that moment to call into the cabin, “We’re next for takeoff, Mr. Fairchild.”
Glen reached over and pressed an intercom button to reach the pilot. “We’re ready.”
Even though he trusted the pilots, Glen still felt a tiny bit of tension in his spine until they leveled off in the air.
“So why did you break your rules with me?” Mary asked.
He unbuckled his seat belt and tapped her knee before he stood. “Because you’re not a user. Now, what can I get you to drink?”
“I could be a user.”
Glen did a little eye roll. “No, you can’t. It’s not in your DNA.” He opened the compact icebox that held all the liquor and removed what he’d seen Mary drink in the past. “Red or white?”
“White. How can you be so certain about my character when we’ve only seen each other, what . . . half a dozen times?”
He considered pointing out that on three of those occasions Mary went out of her way to attempt to pay her share. If she was shot down, she made sure to send a thoughtful gift pack, or wine basket . . . or some such thing to let her host know she appreciated the invitation. “Give me one example of when you used someone for something.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, then looked at her shoes. “Does borrowing shoes count?”
That brought his eye to the sexy shoes on those sexy legs. “If you broke them and didn’t replace them, then yes.”
“That would be rude.”
He made quick use of the wine opener and poured them both a glass. “A user wouldn’t care about appearing rude.”
“I suppose.” She took the glass with a thank-you and leaned back in the plush leather seat. “I’m not going to pretend that sitting in a private jet isn’t amazing.”
He glanced around the cabin and wondered how she saw it.
“It’s a luxury that’s easy to get used to.”
“That’s the truth. When Dakota and I traveled to her conferences before her books hit, we always flew coach.” She cringed. “The first time Dakota sat in first class we argued for a week about me letting her help with my ticket so we could fly together.”
“See, not a user.”
Mary sipped her wine and continued, “On the way home she used her miles and upgraded me. Now I save a little bit every month to sit in the front. It’s worth it.”
“I’ve never flown coach,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Really?”
“Never. I learned to fly before I could drive a car. We all did. Our father was adamant about it. Some people switch drivers while on their family vacations, we switched pilots.” He remembered the first time he’d joined his father in the cockpit with his entire family in the back. You have their lives in your hands, Glen. Always fly like your family is riding with you.
“You miss him.” Mary was doing that staring thing again.
“I do. Both of them.” Glen knew Mary had been told he’d lost his parents in a plane crash years ago. Just as he’d been told that Mary grew up without parents. “Did you ever know yours?”
She shook her head. “I was left at a church when I was close to a year old. No note . . . no witnesses to see who left me there. Sister Mary Frances found me. I don’t know if my parents were kids or unable to take care of me, or maybe they’re dead and Grandma didn’t wanna do it all again. I try not to think about it.”
“A lot of people would take a beginning like that and never turn it around.” Glen couldn’t picture anyone giving away a child.
“I was a troublemaker as a kid.”
That was news. “Really? What kind of trouble?”
She took another sip of her wine; the glow on her cheeks became more evident. “Most of my formative years were spent in and out of a school for children . . . which was a fancy way of saying orphanage that Mary Frances volunteered for. Since Sister Mary Frances was the one who ultimately named me, she was the one who did a lot of my molding. She’s very pragmatic. Calls people on their bull straight up. And she was a nun . . . who argues with a nun?”
“I don’t know.”
“No one! I followed her lead. If I saw a disservice or an inaccuracy, I called it out. Didn’t matter if I was in the middle of my math class or church. Mary Frances and I have had a lot of conversations about faith. She also encouraged me to keep thinking and never take words at face value.”
“And that landed you in trouble?”
“Yeah . . . I didn’t last with a foster family for long, and a lot of the reason why was my mouth. I would question everything to the point of driving my foster parents crazy.”
“All kids ask why the sky is blue.” He could understand it being annoying, but not to the point of walking away.
“No, I would ask why Mr. Van Goosen was watching naked people exercising on his computer.”
Glen felt laughter deep in the pit of his stomach. “Oops.”
“Yeah, and when Mrs. Van Goosen delivered a because he likes it answer, I went to school and asked all of my classmates if their fathers watched naked people lying on top each other. And when their answers didn’t work for me, I’d ask my teacher . . . who knew the Van Goosens because Mr. Van Goosen was a deacon in the church.”
Glen had to stop drinking his wine or risk spitting it out. “Whoa!”