Page 31 of My All American Girl

14

DEAN

After the eight flights with the students, I was ready to be done. Everyone had done alright, but it was always a little intimidating to put my life in the hands of total strangers. I didn’t know most of these kids. I was trusting the instructors that came before me. If they gave the pilots the greenlight to get into the class, I had to hope they were reliable.

After giving the students the go-ahead to leave, I walked back to my office. When I opened the door, I noticed Sarah was hot on my heels.

The look on her face said she was pissed.

This should be interesting.

I stopped in the doorway of my office and looked at her. “Did you need something?”

She pushed past me and walked into my office without an invitation.

“By all means, come in,” I said and closed the door behind me.

She rounded on me, her expression fierce with accusation. The anger flashing in her eyes was hot. I liked that fire in her. For some stupid reason my mind went straight to sex. I wanted to see all the fire and passion in my bed. Her hair splayed out around her head and that cute little chin pointed up at me when I hovered over her.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Did what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Tried to scare me,” she clarified, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

I smirked at her accusation. “Did it work?”

I knew exactly what she was pissed about and I was enjoying her irritation. She had been frustrating me since I met her.

Her expression darkened.

“Remember, I’m your superior,” I said.

She opened her mouth and snapped it shut again.

“There’s always a method to my madness. It’s not your place to question it. Or to question me, for that matter.” I smiled when I saw her frustration rising. Her cheeks were red, her eyes narrowed to the point I wasn’t sure she could even see me.

“All you have to do is show up and do what you’re told,” I said. “If you can manage that, then we’ll both have done our jobs, and we can move on.”

She took a deep breath. I was certain I could hear her count to three.

“And what is your job, exactly?” she challenged, her voice dripping with suspicion. “I find it very convenient that I happen to meet you at my graduation, and now here you are, everywhere I turn. You’re worse than a bad rash. You know, I can handle myself. I don’t need babysitting or a babysitter.” She crossed her arms over her chest, giving me a defiant look.

I took a seat behind my desk, leaned back and clasped my hands behind my head. “What are you implying?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. I had no idea what her father told her.

She eyed me like she was giving me a brain scan. “You’re doing your job?” she repeated. “What exactly is that job?”

“I would think that was evident,” I replied calmly. “I’m a flight instructor.”

“No, you’re a pilot.”

“I’m both,” I said. “I teach. I fly.”

“How well do you know my father?” she asked.

“Well enough.”

“And why were you at my graduation?”