Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
“You’re the one who got in,” he argued, strapping the helmet under her chin.
“Because the idea was so preposterous that I was certain you were kidding!” This had to be a joke. At any moment, he’d pull her from the cockpit and tease her about her reaction.
“I never joke about flying. Okay, I have the radio set to the training frequency, so I’ll be able to hear you and likewise. Everything good?”
“You’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?” Her eyebrows lifted.
He paused with his thumb on her chin and lost all pretense of humor. “Last chance to back out. If you want to get down, I’ll unbuckle you.”
“And if I don’t?” she challenged, arching an eyebrow.
“Then I’ll take you flying.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and her cheeks heated.
Her heart clamored at the possibility. “I thought you were taking me to dinner?”
“That requires flying.” His thumb grazed the skin just beneath her lip, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.
“And what happens if we get caught?” she asked, knowing that Royal Air Force didn’t loan their planes so pilots could take their girls out—not that she was his girl.
He shrugged with a devilish smirk that sent her heart skipping. “Then I guess they’ll send me back to the U.S.”
She scoffed. “And that would be so bad? Being sent home?”
His focus drifted for a breath of a second, and his expression slipped. “It is when I’m not sure they’d let me back in.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Her spirit of adventure flagged as her stomach sank.
“The whole treason thing.” He motioned to the RAF patch on his shoulder. “And yes, being sent home would be a punishment. I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be. Question is, are you?” His voice softened.
“I am exactly where I want to be.” She’d forgotten that the Yanks who flew with them risked their own citizenship.
What a luxury it would be to choose war, yet Jameson did.
“Then let’s get going before someone sees.” He gave her a heart-stopping grin, then disappeared into the seat behind her.
Moments later, the engine turned over, the propeller began to spin, and every bone in her body vibrated as they pulled out from their spot in the line of planes, headed for the runway. Thank God the engine was loud enough to block the sound of her pounding heart.
Next to joining the WAAF against her parents’ wishes, this was the most illicit thing she’d ever done. It might be the most illicit thing you’ll ever do. She held the thought close to her chest, where her hands currently gripped the harness. They turned to the right.
“You ready?” he asked through her radio.
She nodded, pressing her lips into a nervous line. She was really going to do this, fly off into the unknown with an American pilot she’d met last week. If that wasn’t the definition of reckless, she wasn’t sure what was.
The hum of the engine pitched higher as the plane hurtled down the bumpy runway, gaining speed just like her heart rate, and though she could see the fields rush by on either side of her, she couldn’t determine where the pavement ended. This was exhilarating, terrifying madness. The wind pricked her eyes and she blinked furiously, pulling the goggles down as the ground fell away.
Everything but her stomach leaped into the sky. That, she was certain, had remained on the ground. It settled as they gained altitude and she forced her breathing to steady and her muscles to ease, to relax long enough to take it all in.
It consumed her senses. The roar of the engine was dulled but not muted by her helmet, and the wind chilled her skin, but it was the view that took her breath away. The sun still clung to the sky, but she knew it would sink below the horizon soon. It was as if everything beneath them had become miniature…or they were giants. Either way, it was astonishing. She tried to carve every sensation into her memory so she could write it all down later, so she’d never be in danger of forgetting it, but just as she’d finished thinking of every word she would use to describe the landscape beneath, they were landing.
“Hold on for me,” Jameson said through the radio, and her heart raced. He handled the airplane like it was part of him, like flying through the air was as simple as raising his hand.
The ground rushed up beneath them, and he landed, jostling her on the bumpy terrain. The field wasn’t one she was familiar with, but it had seen its fair share of airplanes, if the tracks through the grass were any indication.
The plane rumbled as the engine died. Jameson appeared on her left, wearing a flush of wind on his cheeks and shoving his fingers through his hair.