She moved off to serve our beverage needs while the other passengers began boarding the plane behind us. I was suddenly aware of my close proximity to Larson in the small first-class cabin. So far it was empty except for the two of us.
“So…” Larson shifted his body to face me. His eyes looked extra-blue in the morning light streaming through the open window. “It’s an hour flight. Want to tell me your life story?”
I hesitated, already dismayed. This was exactly what I’d wanted to avoid—personal conversation, becoming friends, fixating on his perfect eye color.
Why didn’t I take my book out of my carry-on?
Because I’d been rattled. And now I was stuck talking to him, inches apart.
Okay, regroup here. I couldn’t ignore him, but I wasn’t going to reveal myself to him either.
I laughed, sounding nervous even to my own ears. “Sorry—there’s not an hour’s worth of material there. I grew up in Alpharetta, went to the University of Georgia. I have a younger sister. I worked at a station in Peachtree Valley for two years before moving back to Atlanta and starting at WNN.” I shrugged, hoping the line of questioning would stop there.
Maybe Larson would tell me where he went to college, what he majored in, and then start reading his own book, and we could fly in pleasant, impersonal silence all the way to Nashville.
“And you really like it there.” It wasn’t a question, more an observation on his part, but it still felt like he wanted an answer.
My response was edged with caution. “Yes. Why? Don’t you?”
“Oh sure.” He nodded, wearing an expression that said he was more interested in my assessment of the place than his own. “It’s just—not that many people smile all day at work.”
“I smile? All day?”
That was news to me. And how would he know? He had to be at least as busy working as I was.
How did he have time to keep track of my facial expressions during the workday? I didn’t ask.
Instead, I giggled, embarrassed. “Does that make me some kind of ghoul? I mean, we cover a lot of tragedies.”
“No. No—I mean it’s a good thing. I guess all day was overstating it. You just smile a lot—when you’re talking with Deb, when you’re calling and setting up interviews, when you talk to the editors. It’s… nice. You’re nice to people. And you have a good smile.”
His last statement was punctuated with one of his own hormone-scrambling grins.
My face heated instantly. “Oh. Well, I like my job, I guess.”
Lame. Lame, lame, lame.
But the perfect response, all things considered. Maybe if Larson found my conversation boring, he would stop trying to get to know me.
I turned toward the tiny oblong airplane window, discovering a new fascination for the process of professional luggage loading.
Willing my heart rate to slow, I watched the mini-truck make its way across the tarmac and two guys in bright coveralls jump off and start hefting bags onto a belt.
Larson was silent for a minute, giving me hope that he had, indeed, declared me too dull even for airplane conversation. But my hope was crushed by that achingly smooth voice.
“And you were engaged?” he asked.
Shoot. My gaze flew to his face before I could stop myself.
“Not one for small talk are you?”
“Actually, that’s usually all I care for.” He paused and looked up at the overhead air nozzles and light buttons, then his gaze came back and rested solidly on me as he continued the thought. “But with you… I’d rather have the life story.”
My eyes dropped to his top button. “Well… I’d rather not talk about that, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, sure. Of course. I’m sorry.” Before I could turn back to the window, he said, “So… I’ve never been to Peachtree Valley. How was it working there in the more rural part of the state?”
I let out a pent-up breath. This topic I could handle. “I loved it, actually.”
“Why’d you leave?”
Or maybe not. I bit my lip, a sensation far less painful than this conversation so far. “I… I’d rather not talk about that, either.”
“Okaaaay… how ’bout those Braves, huh?” Larson laughed uncomfortably.
Wow. His teeth were so beautiful. Were they natural or was the cosmetic dentist-to-the-rich-and-famous responsible?
Wait. Stop. Don’t notice his teeth. Recalculating.
The inside of my brain sounded like the pissy GPS voice when you’ve taken a wrong turn.
I blinked and recovered. “I’m sorry. I must seem like some strange little hermit-person to you.”
“No. Not strange—just… reserved. I don’t bite, you know.”
He tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, making him look sort of like a little boy and sort of delicious, like a red velvet cupcake with cream-cheese frosting.
Oh my God—why are you associating him with delicious baked goods? My stomach let out a loud growl.
Larson chuckled. “I guess we should’ve asked the flight attendant for some snacks.”
I felt a blush heat my face from forehead to neck. “You heard it? I skipped breakfast—I was running late.”
“Me too. All I had was a protein bar. We’ll get some lunch as soon as we pick up the rental car.”
“I don’t know if we’ll have time.” I checked my tablet, hoping there was no room in our schedule for a table-for-two. “Nope. Our first interview at Vandy is at eleven. Nashville traffic isn’t like Atlanta’s, but it can get bad. We’ll have to go straight from the airport to campus, I’m afraid. Maybe we can get some drive-through at one of the places near campus.”
“Sounds like you know your way around the city. The only other place I’ve been in the South besides Atlanta is Florida, when we did hurricane-aftermath coverage.”
“I remember. Yeah, my family visited Nashville a few times when I was a kid—Opryland Hotel, Country Music Hall of Fame. And my friend Heidi lives there now. She’s in news, too.”
“That’s great. Going to see her while we’re there?”
“Yes, I’ll be staying at her house tonight.”
His face fell. “Oh. So you won’t be at the hotel then.”
“No.”
He nodded. “Okay. I just thought as long as we were both there, we might have dinner, check out the city, buy a pair of rhinestone-studded boots or something.”
Here was my chance to set some ground rules for our working relationship. It was the height of arrogance to assume Larson was actually interested in me. But just in case…
“I don’t think dinner would be a good idea anyway. I don’t think we should… socialize outside of work.”
He raised one brow. “Why not?”
“Because it could lead to… confusion.” I shook my head quickly, trying to shake off the embarrassment that had snapped down on me like a mousetrap. “Or something.”
Heat flooded my face. Shoot. Why hadn’t I just left it at sorry-I’m-staying-with-my-friend?
Larson tipped his head back and narrowed his eyes, studying me.
“Wow—somebody really did a number on you, didn’t they? Either that or you hate my guts. And it can’t be the second thing, because I’m so damned charming.” He laughed at his own sarcasm.