I glance over at him. He’s wearing dark jeans, a white T-shirt, and aviator sunglasses.
Hot. Damn.
I sit up a little straighter as we silently make our way down Magnolia to Hollywood Way, turning left toward Burbank airport. Instead of turning into the main terminal area, Anderson flashes a badge, and we pull through a chain-link fence to a row of private airplane hangars. As if he wasn’t already pretentious enough, of course the man owns his own plane. He parks haphazardly—like someone who doesn’t care that he’s not in the lines—and grabs our bags. He locks his car with a single beep before turning to me.
“Luca should be here any minute,” he yells over the roaring engine of a large plane taking off above us.
As I’m about to respond, Luca’s car swerves into the spot next to Anderson’s. I roll my eyes. Parking sideways must be a millionaire trait. Luca walks over with his rolling suitcase, smiling like an idiot.
“Long night?” I chide, reaching up and pulling his sunglasses down. There are dark bags under his eyes, and he sticks his tongue out at me.
Anderson glances between us with a wary expression, and then he turns to unlock the hangar—the sliding door croaking with an unpleasant sound as he pulls it open.
“Oh,” I say, surprise hitting me too fast to hide my reaction.
“Were you expecting something fancier?” Anderson asks, leaning against the older cream and blue Cessna airplane. It’s definitely not fancy, but I like it. A lot. Plus, it fits his vibe. Fancy suits, a modest house. He’s an enigma, and almost everything about him contrasts with another one of his personality traits.
“No,” I say, running a hand along the smooth, metal surface. “This is very you.”
When I look up at Anderson, he’s watching me with a furtive gaze. He cocks his head as Luca climbs in, muttering something about barf bags, leaving us alone in the hangar. Anderson’s eyes bore into mine as he helps me up into the airplane—though I probably don’t really need help. I’m not a short girl.
“You get passenger,” he mutters before throwing our bags in the back and walking around to the driver’s seat.
I climb in and throw the pair of noise-canceling headphones around my neck. He pushes some buttons and then climbs out again—and a second later, the plane moves. When I look down, I see Anderson dragging the plane out of the hangar, his muscles bulging out of his tight shirt. I bite my bottom lip as Luca’s hand smacks my shoulder.
“Are you checking him out?” he whispers, his voice frantic.
“Ew,” I mutter, shaking my head. “No way. I wanted to see why we were moving.”
Luca makes ahmmsound as Anderson closes the hangar behind us.
“I’m on to you,” he mumbles, his voice light.
“I have standards,” I explain, crossing my arms.
Luca bursts out laughing. “No, you don’t.”
Anderson climbs back into the plane before I can respond, so instead of continuing to be tormented by my brother, I throw the headphones on, and the utter silence is deafening. A second later, I hear crackling and buzzing. Anderson pulls his on and shuts the door, turning to me.
“Can you hear me okay?” he asks, frowning.
I give him a thumbs up.
“I can hear you,” Luca answers. “Excuse me while I nap,” he adds, and then he pulls a curtain between the front and the back closed.
I look behind me with wide eyes.
There goes my scapegoat.
I buckle myself in as Anderson starts the engine. The headphones are a great idea, because the roaring sound of the plane is so loud that my whole body is buzzing.
“This is Cessna 172AC3. Cleared to Napa, California airport via the Sk1 departure, RNGRR transition, then as filed. Climb maintain five thousand. Departure frequency one-three-five, decimal niner, squawk four-seven-six-three,” Anderson speaks, his voice low and monotone in my headphones.
I watch as he presses more buttons, his hands firmly gripping the handles of the steering wheel. I notice I have a steering wheel in front of me, too.
“Taxi to runway two-seven right via alpha two, bravo and delta. Cross runway three-five,” someone blares into my ear.
Anderson scowls and grabs his glasses, throwing them on as he runs a hand through his hair before looking at me.
