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“Would you like to move to the rear?” Tanya gives her a pointed look on my lap. “It would be more comfortable—”
“We’re comfortable.” I lock an arm around Frankie’s waist, holding her in place.
As Tanya pushes away the cart, Frankie plucks a wedge of cheese from the platter and arches a brow at Leo.
He meets her gaze, a half-smile breaking through as he inhales several slices of salmon. “Yeah, Monty brought up my career goals. It’s like he memorized your damn journal.”
“His mind is sharp and misses nothing.” She gulps down her bourbon. “Remember that.”
“He offered to help me get my pilot’s license.”
“You should.” I sample the soup, groaning at the burst of flavor. “Then what?”
“Then I have some decisions to make. Do I want to be an aviation mechanic? Run a pilot school? Own a seaplane base in Sitka? Or a private airport somewhere else?”
“All of the above.” She winks at him.
“You bet your sweet ass.” He winks back and pops the last of the salmon into his mouth. “Watching him fly this bird, seeing everything from the co-pilot’s seat, it’s a different kind of freedom.”
“More freeing than winging it out of the hills?” My lips twist.
“I risked your lives.” His expression hardens. “I almost lost you.”
“You saved us.” She reaches across the table and grips his hand. “No matter what you decide to do, you’ll be fantastic at it. You’ve always been good at fixing things and explaining how everything works. You taught me so much at Hoss.”
“But starting from scratch in an unfamiliar world? That’s different. It’s daunting.”
“I get it. Not too long ago, I was a fish out of water in your world, remember?”
“I remember, love.” His eyes soften.
“Kody and I will be with you. If Monty’s willing to help, take advantage of it. Or don’t, and we’ll find another way. You can make this happen. I believe in you.”
I watch him closely, trying to appraise his feelings about it. He’s intrigued, maybe even excited by the prospect, but there’s an uneasiness in his posture. A holdover from our trauma with Denver.
Trust doesn’t come easy for us, especially where Monty’s concerned. Like she said, he’s sharp. Perhaps as calculating as Denver. We can’t forget that.
Tanya returns, bringing out plates of steak, the pieces so tender they nearly fall apart under the prod of her serving fork, alongside heaps of golden buttery potatoes.
A basket of warm, crusty bread permeates the cabin with a pleasant, familiar scent.
Frankie explains what everything is, showing us how to eat it. Like the chocolate fondue set. Tanya places it on the table across the aisle with fruits and marshmallows for dipping and a separate plate piled high with assorted macarons in pastel colors.
Every dish is a statement, not just of wealth but of a world where food isn’t just survival. It’s an art, a luxury.
I’m not sure what to make of it all, but it’s obvious Monty is trying to impress us, reassure us, or weaken us into complacency.
Frankie puts away more food than I’ve ever seen her eat. And her moans. The pure bliss on her face. The only time she looks this satisfied is during sex.
I can’t help it. Watching her eat makes me hard as a rock.
Of course, she knows. Sitting on my aching cock, she twists around to peek at me, her eyes wide and mouth full.
“Stop wriggling.” I swat her hip.
With a laugh, she presses a piece of steak against my lips and wriggles again.
“It’s so good,” she says around another bite of meat.
