Redwood Bend (13 page)

“I was planning to be very good,” he said, diving for her throat. Then he groaned and said, “Go on. Change. I have a reservation.”

“A reservation? Are we going out for dinner?”

“Just change.”

“Because I want to dress right…”

He looked down at himself. Boots, jeans torn in strategic places, long-sleeved, faded shirt. “You’re bound to look better than this no matter what you do. And grab a jacket.”

“You sure you don’t want to take the car?” she asked.

“Oh, hell no,” he said with a laugh. “The bike turns you on.” He touched her nose. “I know it does.”

“I think that bike is just one big, expensive sex toy, vibrating all our secret parts and making us vulnerable. We should probably drive.”

“Jeans,” he said. “Jacket.”

She sighed. “If you insist.” When she got to her bedroom, she smiled, very glad he insisted on the bike. And although she was a little afraid he might notice that she went to some trouble, she dabbed on a little makeup—some gloss, some blush, some mascara. And while it was completely futile, she ran a brush through her hair. Then remembering the havoc a bike can wreak on hair, she filled a purse with brush, comb, gloss and hair clips.

“Ready,” she said.

“Let’s do it,” he said, holding the door.

Katie hopped on behind him and they took off down the mountain toward the freeway north to Arcata. Every time they passed a road that led to the beach or up into the mountains, she wondered if that was where he was taking her. Yet it all made sense when he finally pulled into a small, isolated, private airport. Her eyes grew large.

“We’re here,” he said while she just sat there. “Come on, Katie.”

“Is your plane here?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I rented a little Cherokee. Two seater. I’m going to take you up. Ever been in a small plane?”

She shook her head. “Never,” she said in a whisper.

“You said you’d love to learn to fly. I thought you should start with a ride.”

“Oh. Dylan.” She sighed. Tears sparked in her eyes. “You were listening,” she said softly. Oh, God, her heart was going to be broken. “I can’t believe it.”

He was frowning. “Can’t believe what?”

“Tell the truth, Dylan. Are you just trying to get laid? Or did you really do this for me?”

He ran a finger along her jaw. “I thought it was pretty clear, I’m into you. But I did this because I want to show off and I thought it would be fun for you. Wanna go up?”

“I so wanna go up. Can I take my purse?”

He laughed at her. “Yeah, of course. And your jacket. Come on, I have a little paperwork to finish.”

While Dylan shot the breeze with the guy behind the counter and signed off on some paperwork, she sat taking it all in. “She’s all ready for you,” the man said. “Little bumpy out there over the ocean, Dylan.”

He grinned. “That’s the fun part.” Then he turned, and said, “Come on, Katie.”

The Cherokee was lemon-yellow and just adorable. He put her inside while he looked over the airplane on the outside, giving it a preflight inspection. Then he jumped in, checked some of the instruments, cranked it up and taxied out. She let go an excited squeal as they lifted off the ground and he laughed.

Katie certainly wasn’t the first girl he’d taken up for a ride in a small plane, but this ride felt like the first time. Her eyes shone and her grin was infectious. When he turned up the coastline, she was all but hanging out the window, looking at the shoreline, the fishing boats, the rocky coast. He took her inland over the trees and told her to look for marijuana patches or deer.

“How would I know a marijuana patch?”

“Bright, bright green, greener than any green you’ve ever seen. Deer? Self-explanatory. Wanna have some fun?”

“What kind of fun?” she asked suspiciously.

“Want to see the map float?”

Oh, that grin! “Yes!” she said. It was just like the bike—she really liked the sharp turns, the speed.

He took it to a higher altitude, then dropped the plane into a rapid descent and the map floated for a moment, making her giggle. So he made a sharp turn and pulled back on the yoke, loading some G’s on them and she laughed as if he was holding her down and tickling her.

An epiphany was coming into focus. Everyone he dated, briefly dated, was so easy to please. They thought he was the catch of the century—he picked the best restaurants, was the best date ever, sharpest dresser (even covered with motor oil from some airplane engine), and they’d sure been willing to give it up right away. He just realized it hadn’t felt real. They always knew him as the owner of a small aircraft operation or an actor. Celebrity.

Katie was tougher and yet, completely authentic. She had fun on the bike; the flying thrilled her. But she didn’t give in to him. She had rules and held to them.

“Can I try?” she asked.

“Gently,” he said. “Pull back, the plane goes up. Push forward, down. Let’s not turn.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, and she gave it a try. At first she was careful, gently moving the yoke. But then she got a little more aggressive, laughing as she pulled back, pushed forward.

“Okay, okay, you don’t want to put us into a stall.”

“A stall?”

“As in no engine.”

She let go at once. “You fly. I’ll ride.”

“Good idea,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s look at some boats, look for some dolphins.” And he turned out to sea. They saw birds flying under the airplane, a bunch of dolphins jumping, a few fishing boats and a big yacht. And then the plane started to bounce.

“What’s that?”

“Just a little choppy out here, that’s all,” he said.

She was unusually quiet for a moment and Dylan didn’t really notice anything; he was used to turbulence. It was usually especially bad over the Montana mountains. But then he heard that telltale sound from his passenger. “Whoa,” she said. Then, “Ew.”

He glanced over at Katie. She was white as a sheet. He didn’t waste a second. “Katie! Bag!” He pointed to the side pocket. “Bag, bag, bag!”

She turned to look at him, glassy-eyed, confused. He reached across her and pointed closer to the side pocket. “There’s a bag in there if you don’t feel right!”

Weakly, she slipped her hand into the side pocket and pulled out a sick sack. She just held it, like that was the last thing she wanted to think about. And Dylan turned back toward the airport.

He didn’t make it far before she was holding the bag up to her face, retching.

“That a girl,” he said approvingly. “You’ll be fine when we’re on the ground. Ten minutes, tops.”

And she retched again.

Poor kid, he thought. She liked speed and tight turns, but apparently her inner ear wasn’t crazy about turbulence. Now that he considered it, that probably was a little more than she’d have been used to. Certainly not the first candidate for Dramamine....

“Ew,” she said again. “Oh, God.” Then she reached into her purse with a trembling hand for a tissue. While she wiped her mouth, he was on final approach.

He landed smoothly, taxied in and checked his passenger frequently, noting that her color was slowly coming back. He parked the little plane, jumped out and went around to her side to help her.

She held on to that sack protectively, embarrassed. Her head was down, her hair falling in a canopy, hiding her face.

“It’ll be okay, babe,” he said gently. “Happens sometimes. Even to big tough guys.”

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes watering, her face pale. “Now
that,
” she said, “was a date.”

After a little time in the restroom, splashing her face, braiding her hair and generally putting herself back together, Katie made a miraculous recovery. When she walked outside, she found Dylan leaning against his bike.

“You look a lot better,” he said with a smile.

“It seems to have left me as fast as it arrived. Whew, that was perfectly awful. I’m so sorry. Probably not what you were expecting, huh?”

“It happens,” he said. “Jump on.”

And away they went. He took a side trip through Arcata and stopped first at a drugstore. He left her on the bike and promised to return quickly. When he came back he handed her a small bag. Inside was a toothbrush, paste, mouthwash, disposable wipes and antiseptic hand wash. “I couldn’t think of another thing you might need,” he said. “I’m taking you to a restaurant—we’ll get you some tea and something mild, like mac and cheese.”

“You act like a man who has had a lot of experience with this,” she said.

“You’re my first,” he said. “Not the first passenger or student to get sick, but the first time a girl I was trying to impress… Well, I wanted it to be memorable.”

“It was,” she said. “A lot like morning sickness. One minute you’re going to die, then it’s over and you feel like you could eat a side of beef.”

“Tea and noodles,” he said. “And if it was morning sickness, it had nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, stop complaining.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “At least you pronounced it a date.”

Dylan took her to a quaint bar; they had to walk up a flight of stairs to the second floor and, given it was still afternoon, they were among just a few diners. The view was of the marshy headlands; the birds were flying low over the tall grasses, the Pacific shining beyond. It was beautiful and so serene. “It looks so harmless out there, doesn’t it?” Katie said. “Some of us know it can really pack a punch. What got you into flying?”

“My grandmother moved us to Montana, where I had no friends or connections and, long story short, out of boredom I was hanging out at the nearest small airport. I started driving my little truck out there and did my homework while watching planes take off and land. Pretty soon I got the courage to wander into the building and asked them how much a ride would cost and they said, ‘Ride in what?’ I wanted to go up in their Lear, but I could afford thirty minutes in a little Cherokee.” He gave a shrug. “I fell in love.”

“I guess you didn’t get sick…”

He shook his head. “Never. I love to do loops and spins and all kinds of crazy stuff. I think I could rock as a test pilot. I was about sixteen when I told my grandmother I wanted to take lessons, get my pilot license, and she said she’d be on board with that if I brought home straight A’s. And did my chores—a lot of which were really crappy chores, pun intended. She bought a place on a lot of land with a barn, a couple of horses, a chicken coop, a couple of cows. Most of my chores involved a shovel and a lot of shit. By the time I was seventeen, I had my license and was instrument qualified. And then I went to Embry-Riddle and majored in aviation.”