by Hudson Lin
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
About Fly With Me
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
Author's Note
Also by Hudson Lin
About the Author
Fly With Me
By Hudson Lin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.
Fly With Me
Copyright © 2019 by Hudson Lin
ISBN: 978-1-9993812-2-6
Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com
Edited by Lyss.Press
Fly With Me
She set out to explore the world and found love along the way.
Vivian Ng is as experienced as flight attendants come. Taking charge and getting stuff done has always been her MO. When her father pushes her to give up her Asian routes in favor of flights to Europe, she’s nervous about the change, but her skills have never failed her before.
Flight attendant Marco Chang is charming and he knows it. Growing up as an immigrant with absentee parents, he learned how to win people over with a smile and a sexy accent. But being popular never meant his heart was available.
When Vivian and Marco find themselves working the same flight to Rome, Marco is immediately smitten. Vivian is smart, competent, kicks ass and takes names. Vivian’s not as impressed. Marco’s cute, sure, but he’s helpful to a fault and she doesn’t need some guy telling her how to do her job.
As they hop back and forth across the Atlantic, the romance of European cities works its magic. But if there’s any hope of their budding attraction taking off, she’ll need to let go and he’ll need to let her in.
Content Warning: This book contains a scene of sexual harassment.
May you find love along the path of adventure.
Chapter One
“Viv, don’t be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous!” Vivian Ng whisper-shouted into the phone. She snuck a glance over her shoulder at the group of flight attendants chatting in a circle. Clare—an older lady with a no-nonsense look—noticed and gave her a stern stare. Great. Now she’d think Vivian was a troublemaker.
“You sound nervous.”
“Well, Dad, I’m not.” She eyed the plane sitting at the end of the jet bridge. It was like any other plane she’d worked. But knowing that didn’t ease the flutter of butterflies in her tummy. “We’re waiting on one last guy to show up. He better not make us late.” It was one of the worst things about being a flight attendant, standing around watching the minutes tick by until they could shut the plane door and start getting paid.
“Ah, Viv, relax, have fun. Remember why you bid for this line in the first place. Go to Europe. See something new.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Not that it’d been her idea. She’d been comfortable with the Asian lines—Hong Kong, Japan, China. She had the language skills for those countries. But her dad had gotten tired of pictures from that part of the world. He wanted her to see Europe for him. For her dad, she’d do anything. “But this isn’t a vacation. I actually have to work in order to get there.”
“But you know how to do the work. A plane is a plane, doesn’t matter if it’s going to Asia or somewhere else.”
Sure, he was right, but she was still restless. She always got the jitters when something was unfamiliar. Would she be able to work with this group of new colleagues? Was there something weird about European airspace that would throw her off? Would European airports be more difficult to navigate than the Asian ones she was used to?
Most importantly, would her dad be okay in the new seniors living community he’d recently moved in to?
“How are you, Dad? Feeling settled?”
“Ah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. The nurses here will take good care of me.” The innuendo in his voice was clear, and he chuckled at his own hilarity.
Vivian rolled her eyes. If he was cracking jokes about cute nurses, he was definitely fine.
“You have to learn how to enjoy yourself. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“Gee, thanks, Dad.”
“It’s true. Don’t be like me and your mom. We waited too long to have you, and you see what happened? You ended up spending all your time looking after us in our old age. Well, you don’t need to anymore. Go live your life!”
They’d had this discussion a dozen times before, but it didn’t lessen Vivian’s guilt. She’d swapped the caretaker role with her parents when she was a teenager and her mom fell sick with breast cancer. They’d fought it together for nearly a decade before she finally succumbed a couple of years ago.
Since then, it’d been Vivian and her dad, him pushing ninety but still going strong. She hated that he’d moved in to the seniors home, but he’d flat-out refused to let her move back in with him when he’d started needing more constant care. Said she needed to have her own life. Not that she had much of a life on a flight attendant’s schedule.
“Vivian!” Clare called. “We’re heading on board.”
“Oh shit. I’ve got to go. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll send you a message when I land in Rome.” In Rome. It was weird saying it, and a zing of excitement crackled through her at the thought.
“I’ll be waiting. Take lots of pictures.”
“Of course. I love you.” She hung up, slipped her phone into her bag, and smoothed her hands down her company-issued skirt. She could totally do this. With a practiced smile, she rejoined the group as the gate staff waved them through.
“Hey, you’re new.” The late guy fell into step next to her, giving her a once-over before gracing her with a crooked grin. Was it supposed to be charming or something? Too bad it didn’t work on her.
“No, I’m not new.” Her hackles rose. She knew her Asian genes made her look young, but that didn’t mean she was inexperienced. Why did everyone always assume she didn’t know what she was doing?
“I’m Marco Chang.” He held out a hand awkwardly as he tried to squeeze himself into the narrow jet bridge next to her.
“I know.” Of course he didn’t remember her. She shouldn’t be surprised, though the annoyance wasn’t helping her slight case of nerves. She ignored his proffered hand.
His grin grew wider like this was a game of twenty questions. “Really? From where? I would’ve remembered if we’d flown together before.”
They reached the end of the jet bridge, and he stopped to the side to let her on ahead of him. She stepped aboard, maneuvering her suitcase deftly behind her. “We haven’t.”
She made her way down the aisle to the back of the plane.
“Self-defense training last month?” he called ahead to her.
Vivian bit her tongue. This might have been fun for him, but she wasn’t here to play games.
“The medical emergency refresher in the winter?” he called again. “Come on, I don’t think I would’ve forgotten you if we’d crossed paths in the past.”
Something about his tone made her stop and turn. He looked pleased with himself, like he’d scored a po
int without her noticing. Well, she wasn’t about to let him win. “Flight attendant training. We were in the same class.”
Confusion marred his expression. “But that was years ago.”
Congratulations, knucklehead. “Yeah,” she said as she continued toward the back of the plane. Fine, they hadn’t exactly been in the same class of twenty-five trainees, but they had been in the same cohort, and flight attendants gossiped like housewives. Marco had quickly gained a reputation for being a flirt, charming and charismatic, the popular guy everyone wanted to get with.
She could almost feel the back of her head heating under the weight of Marco’s gaze. Not her fault he didn’t remember her from the dozens of other women at training.
Vivian brushed nonexistent strands of hair off her forehead. Her bangs were already neatly pinned back to conform to the required style and dress code, but the gesture was unconscious.
She stowed her luggage in the designated rest area for flight attendants, hidden from view at the back of the plane. Marco squeezed into the cramped space and fit his luggage next to hers. His eyes were on her face, studying her. She backed up a step and crossed her arms as she waited for him to move out of her way.
“It’s okay if you don’t remember me. I don’t think we even said one word to each other during training.” She sounded annoyed even to her own ears, and she cringed inside. She shouldn’t be making enemies, but his dogged attempt to be friendly was a little too much, like he expected people to love him. Well, Vivian wasn’t going to be one of those people.
“I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely regretful, nothing playful or charming in his apology.
She waved it off. “It was a big group. No way we could all know each other.” She stared at the dull gray bulkhead rather than meet his gaze.
“But you knew me.”
Everyone knew him. He must have known that. “It’s fine. Really.” She put on her most pointed look. “We should prep the galley.”
He didn’t move at first, simply studying her for another moment in the quietness of the rest area before turning and leading the way back. Vivian let out a breath. This was going to be an interesting flight.
~~~~~
Passengers trickled onto the plane with palpable excitement. This was why Marco loved being a flight attendant. The sense of adventure that came with every flight, a new group of people wide-eyed and geared up for what lay ahead.
The elderly passengers were the best, the old grandmas and grandpas on their way to visit family or returning to their homeland. They always had an aura of nostalgia about them that made him want to sit at their feet and listen to their stories. He often wondered about his own grandparents—long dead before he’d been born—but they must have had amazing stories about leaving China for Peru. Too bad his own parents had never passed down those stories to him. He was long over it.
Vacationers were okay—depended on what type. But business people were the worst. They knew the drill but didn’t think the rules applied to them. It was like the flight attendants and the other passengers were merely additional baggage they had to carry with them to their final destination.
There was a lull in passengers, and Marco peeked down the aisle. A young mother laden with bags and a baby in her arms was struggling to maneuver through the narrow passage. He rushed to help.
“Let me get those for you. What seat are you in?” He took the bags that were barely hanging onto her wrist.
“Grazie.” The young woman sighed with a tired smile.
Marco switched to Italian. “Qual’è il Suo posto, Signora?”
“Trentaquattro F”
“E’ questo.” He nodded toward the back of the plane and did a quick seat inventory in his head. Thirty-four F was the first row of the section, and the woman had a baby. She might need a bassinet. “Ha richiesto una culla?”
“Sì, grazie.” Her relief was so apparent that it rolled off her in waves.
Traveling with babies and kids was by far the most difficult. He had the ultimate appreciation for parents who dared attempt it. After storing her bags in the overhead bin, he turned to grab the bassinet from storage. Vivian stood in the opposite aisle, watching him with an expression he couldn’t decipher.
A twinge of guilt twisted in his stomach for not recognizing her from training. In his defense, that was years ago, and there were a ton of people in their cohort. He’d wracked his brain for any memory of her, but the truth was it was a long time ago, and he was terrible at maintaining connections with people he didn’t see on a regular basis.
The grin she flashed him was quick and precarious, like she wasn’t sure he deserved it. He rarely came across anyone who took such an instant dislike to him, but maybe it hadn’t been so instant for her. After all, she’d known him for a lot longer than he’d known her. Had he done something back then to offend her?
When he came back with the bassinet, the mother was seated with her baby in her lap. He installed the baby carrier in the separating wall between her seat and the emergency exit row and walked her through the safety protocols of using it. By the time he was done, the back of the plane was getting crowded and they were quickly running out of overhead compartment space.
“Sir, that’s not going to fit in there.” Vivian’s voice carried over the increasing din of a full cabin.
“It’ll fit,” the man insisted, digging through other people’s things to create space in an overhead bin.
“I’m pretty sure it won’t,” Vivian repeated as she caught a stray jacket falling out of the bin and secured it again. “It’s best to have it gate checked. You can pick it up at baggage claim when we arrive in Rome.”
“No, I don’t want to wait for baggage to come out. It takes too long.”
Annoyance flashed across Vivian’s face, gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and in its place was a polite and patient mask. Marco scanned the cabin for a clear path to go provide backup. The only way to get to her was to loop around the back of the section, and by the time he did, the man had hoisted his much-too-large-for-regulation carry-on into the air and was trying to cram it into a much-too-small space.
“Sir, it’s not going to fit,” Vivian repeated yet again.
“It will.”
“No, it won’t, sir,” Marco chimed in. He stepped around Vivian, steadying her with a hand to her lower back, and eased the heavy carry-on back to the floor. “Let me help you gate check this. The faster we get it into the cargo hold, the faster we can finish boarding and take off.”
Marco smiled politely, voice firm, and after a mini staring contest with the passenger, managed to get him to relinquish his carry-on. First crisis of the flight adverted. The rest of boarding went smoothly, and they were only ten minutes delayed in shutting the plane door and pushing back from the gate. Not bad.
Marco strapped himself into the jump seat as the captain made the announcement that they were preparing for takeoff. Vivian sat across from him, arms folded under her breasts, legs crossed, revealing curvy calves and half her thighs under the fitted skirt.
She looked pissed.
“Are you okay?” He kept his voice low to keep nearby passengers from eavesdropping.
She stared out the tiny window, lips pressed thin, corners downturned. With her hair pinned back into a tight bun, she was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe she didn’t hear him.
“Viv, you okay?”
The glare she shot him was lethal. “Don’t call me that. And yeah, I’m fine. Just like I was fine with that passenger with the carry-on. I had it under control. Would you have jumped in if I was a man?”
Marco’s jaw dropped. He’d only been trying to help. Boarding was always a race against time to make sure they didn’t miss their takeoff window. Having to gate check carry-ons was always the most time-consuming part. If she was as experienced as she implied, she should know all this. They were a team; they had to work together. What did it matter who talked the guy down, as long as they got him into his seat? Marco sput
tered. “You’re not serious.”
Vivian’s eyes grew wide with fury, and Marco shrank back into his seat. If they weren’t in the middle of takeoff, she’d probably have launched across and wrapped her fingers around his neck. He reached up and adjusted his standard-issue tie as if it could protect him against Vivian’s wrath.
“You’re a misogynistic asshole.”
Marco’s astonished scoff was audible. “What!”
“You heard me.” Vivian turned back to the window, her expression of rage morphing into one of smug satisfaction.
So she didn’t like him. Name-calling was a bit much. But, okay. He had two options. Fight fire with fire. Or turn on the charm offensive. He’d learned from an early age that his charm was hard to resist. He’d win her over, he was sure of it.
The plane leveled out, and Vivian was out of her seat before he could say a word. Marco rose more slowly.
“Clare.” He sidled up next to the older flight attendant, a veteran who had been half older sister and half mentor to Marco during the years they’d flown together.
“Marco.” She shot him a quick side glance, amusement coloring her grin.
“What’s up with the new girl?” Marco asked, feigning disinterest as he helped her prep the beverage cart.
“New girl?”
She was playing dumb, he was sure. “Yeah, you know.” He nodded meaningfully toward the cabin where Vivian had disappeared down the aisle.
“Oh, you mean Vivian? I was wondering when you would notice her.”
Marco checked the curtain separating the galley from the passengers was pulled into place. “Shh. What do you mean?”
