by Kyle Baxter
“Do you like the mountain man look?” Mariah tickled him, making him flinch.
“No, I do not,” Joel lied. Well, he liked the look on this guy, anyway. Twisting away from his sister, he looked over at his father. “I didn’t eat. Do I have time to grab a snack?”
Dad gave him a warning finger. “No, you don’t go anywhere. It’s almost time to board.”
The gate was crowded; a lot of people sat on the floor. The number of bodies raised the temperature of the room, and Joel noticed people were visibly anxious. “It’s going to be a full flight.”
“It’s fine.” Mom waved a hand, pooh-poohing him. Her sunny disposition never dimmed. “It’s only two hours, nonstop. It’s going to be a great vacation. They had a late-season snowfall so it will be chilly. We may even have to go shopping for winter coats!”
Caty brightened at the word “shopping.” Then she elbowed him and gushed, “We’ll get to go skiing on a glacier in the Alps! The Alps!”
Etreustein was near the Alps? Oh yeah, Austria, Switzerland, Germany, Liechtenstein, all those . . . He definitely should have studied the Wikipedia entry for the tiny country more.
❖
An announcement from the PA system raised the tension at the gate even more. “Attention, all passengers for Flight 2112 for Geneva. Due to overbooking, we are looking for volunteers to take a later flight. Please come to the desk if you are interested.”
Long moments ticked by and everyone looked around, but no one stepped forward. Not a good sign.
“Will the following passengers please come forward . . .” The PA system rattled off several names, including theirs. Uh-oh.
“What is it?” Mom looked at his father.
“They oversold and we’re getting bumped.” Joel put a hand to his forehead. “They always do this to late check-ins. That’s why you check in online.”
His father glared at him. “I would have checked in like a normal person if we were all here on time.” He gave Joel the evil eye, turned, and went to the desk.
Joel fidgeted while he watched his father talk to the flight attendant. This is all my fault. Why can’t I get my act together? What is wrong with me? Shit shit shit. His skin crawled. He wanted to run, hide, be anywhere but here at the moment. Looking up, he flinched, finding the bearded soldier paying close attention to their predicament.
“We have been bumped.” His father’s voice was flat when he returned to their group, but he did not look at Joel. “But only two of our seats.”
Mom put on her make the best of it face. “That’s just fine. No problem. Two of us will stay and catch the next flight—”
“Obviously, I’ll stay.” Joel raised his hand, getting a nod from his father. “This is my fault.”
“Obviously,” his father agreed.
The knot in his stomach tightened and he felt queasy. “I apologize.” With a grunt, he sat down hard on the floor. This was all his fault. What was he going to do? How can I fix this?
“I’ll stay with Joel.” Mariah raised her hand.
“No, you’re only sixteen.” Dad shook his head vigorously. “You’re mature for your age, but . . .”
“We’re in an airport. What could happen?” Mariah crossed her arms and pouted. “Kids fly alone all the time.”
“What about me?” Caty raised her hand. “I’m eighteen.”
“Just barely, dear.” His mother stepped over and pulled on Joel’s arm. “Get up, dear.” Then she turned to her husband and said, “I think I should stay with Joel.”
Now he felt worse. His mother had been looking forward to this trip for a long time. Joel fidgeted as his eyes wandered around and his parents discussed the situation. How could I do this? I ruined everything.
The trooper with the scruffy beard stood at the desk, talking with the airline concierge. God, he is on our flight. Now Joel was even more embarrassed. It was pretty evident to everyone they got bumped. He saw some sympathy and plenty of relief that it didn’t happen to them in the faces of the other passengers at the gate. The trooper pointed at Joel and his family. The woman behind the desk nodded and took the man’s passport. Her eyes bugged as she looked at it and then looked up at the man. The soldier put a finger to his lips. She looked shaken but went to work on the computer. What is he doing?
After their business was done, the soldier picked up his duffle bag and walked away. He gave Joel a small bow of his head as he passed, walking into the terminal. What just happened?
As passengers started to board the plane, there was another page from the PA system that pulled his father back to the desk. After a quick conversation, his father rushed back excitedly. “We are in luck! Someone gave up a seat. Now, we won’t all be together, but at least we’ll get there.”
“One seat . . .” Joel’s mouth dropped in amazement and he pointed in the direction the well-built trooper had gone. “That soldier gave us his seat.” Definitely not just a meathead then. He was a good man. Again with the layers. I need to find him and thank him.
“Did he?” Dad rubbed his hands together. “That’s very nice of him, but it’s only one seat. Joel, you’ll follow on the next available flight. I’m sorry, but it’s in eight hours.”
“Ouch, not really enough time to leave the airport.” Joel forced a grin. “I guess I’ll just hang out here.”
“At least then you can’t be late,” Mom said with a smirk and picked up her purse.
“Oh, I think he can still manage it,” Mariah countered, and Caty sputtered with laughter.
“All right, that’s enough.” Joel held up his hands in surrender. “I’m a terrible person, I get it. I really am very sorry. I will do better, I promise.”
“Quit being dramatic, son. You are not a bad person.” His father gave him a quick hug, then picked up his bag. “You just need to get your shit together. Now remember, day after tomorrow, we have a cocktail reception in Etreustein to attend. It’s for my company—well, several groups looking to do business with the Crown. It’s a meet and greet, and the whole family is invited. So be on your best behavior.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Joel’s eyes kept darting into the terminal, in search of the trooper.
“So you won’t be late.” Mom stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Ha, ha,” he grumbled.
After more hugs, they all got in the line to board. Joel watched until the plane was off the ground and away. Looking around the terminal, he picked up his messenger bag and walked away from the gate. He needed to find the trooper and thank him.
Chapter Six
Alone Together
Joel milled around the terminal for a few minutes. Seeing no sign of the trooper, he browsed through the airport bookstore until his stomach reminded him he skipped breakfast in the rush and he trundled off toward the food court. The place bustled with activity. Midmorning at Heathrow and everyone was going somewhere. He loved it.
A place called the Flying Pheasant looked appealing, judging by its bill of fare. It was busy, and he searched for a seat but had no luck. No worries. I’ll go check out the next place. Then his eyes fell on the soldier who gave up his seat to his family. There he is.
Joel took a deep breath and walked over to the man’s table and interrupted his meal with an, “Excuse me.” Eating an appetizer, the man immediately raised his napkin to cover his mouth. “Sorry,” Joel said.
The man swallowed and wiped his mouth and beard. “Good timing.”
“I am—was—a waiter.” Joel winced. “It’s like the first thing they teach us, interrupting guests in mid-bite.”
That made the ginger chuckle and he pointed to the chair. “Would you care to sit?”
“No,” Joel said more sharply than he intended. “But thank you . . . I only wanted to tell you how much I appreciated what you did at the gate.”
The man took a swig of his beer. “And what did I do?”
“You gave up your seat for my family?” Is he putting me on? Joel wondered.<
br />
“Oh, well.” The guy waved a hand. “I’m not in a huge rush to get home. Besides, I almost stole your cab, and if I recall, you were in quite the hurry.”
“Yeah, I’m always late, especially these days.” Joel shrugged.
“Please sit.” He gestured at the empty chair again. “I assume you came in to eat and the restaurants are all full at the moment.”
Joel glanced around. “Uhm, well, I did miss breakfast.”
“We cannot have that. Join me. Please?” The soldier stood up a little and held out an open hand.
“Thank you.” Joel plopped down into the seat, shoving his messenger bag under the table. “Okay, I am starving, but I’ll only join you if you let me buy your meal.” The man opened his mouth to protest, but Joel raised a quick finger. “My family owes you that much.”
The soldier gave him a megawatt smile that stunned him and said, “‘But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.”
Wow, he is a side of beef, Joel thought appreciatively. He noticed before, but up close, he was even better-looking as well as well-built. And he’s flirting with me. Me?! Oof! He eyed the nice way the trooper’s biceps stretched his fatigues. Then Joel narrowed his eyes. “Wait, was that from Pride and Prejudice?”
The soldier’s wide face lit up in surprise. “You know it?”
“Of course I do.” Joel huffed indignantly. “Jane Austen’s popular culture, not some fringe hoity-toity—”
“Okay, okay, no offense, but that’s the second Superman shirt I’ve seen you wear and most . . .” The trooper’s eyes darted around.
“‘Nerd.’ The word you’re looking for is ‘nerd.’” Joel grinned, not the least bit embarrassed to be a geek.
“Most nerds of my acquaintance don’t read Jane Austen.”
“I’ll accept that”—Joel took his turn to search for a word; he wanted to impress this guy—“disapprobation from you.”
“Well done.” The trooper gave Joel an appreciative smile.
Joel raised a finger and cocked his head. “But lots of people wear Superman shirts.”
“Usually not on consecutive days.” The soldier gestured with his beer at him.
He opened his mouth to protest but nothing came to mind. “Fine, you have a point.”
“Now about Jane Austen?” The man leaned forward, his green eyes sparkling with interest.
Joel sat back in his chair with a grunt. “A college hipster boyfriend got me into her. He was a bar back at the House of Blues and an English major at Loyola. I fell in love with her work and that was the end of it. How about you?”
“Similar story. A young lady I was seeing at university was hopelessly besotted with Matthew MacFadyen, Pride and Prejudice 2005. We didn’t last, but my love for Austen continues.”
“Oh,” Joel said, a little let down. A young lady? Too bad, but what was I thinking?
The man had a wry smile on his face like he heard Joel’s thoughts or at least guessed them.
“My love for Matthew MacFadyen continues too. She and I had that in common.” With a wink, he offered another megawatt smile.
Joel blushed and grinned back at him. Like a damn fool! He almost tittered, enjoying the attention of the trooper and gave the man a closer examination. The shaggy hair was more auburn than orange, and his sea-green eyes seemed a little sad, even when he was smiling. I wonder why. The beard, though well-kept, was long, and Joel assumed he was stationed in the Middle East or North Africa, as those were the current hotspots. He doubted he could talk about it. That must be tough. The beard was also lighter in color and he wondered what that meant for the carpet if it was lighter than the drapes. Joel’s mouth dropped open. “Wow.”
“What?” the trooper asked. He adjusted in his seat uncomfortably, embarrassed by Joel’s attention.
“Nothing,” Joel mumbled. “Just… You’re really good-looking.”
“Oh, thank you.” A smile bloomed on his face, and his cheeks turned rosy. “But you sound surprised.”
“Not at all,” Joel added quickly. “Well, the beard and the military kit obscured too close of an examination before.”
“Kit?” The soldier picked apart a roll and eyed him as he ate it. Joel felt like he was being examined but not judged—necessarily. This guy was sharp, clever, and there was a pleasing crinkle at the corner of his eyes.
“Yeah, kit, gear, uniform? I watch a lot of BBC America.” Joel grabbed a piece of bread for himself. The soldier probably ordered it and clearly he did not worry about carbs. Joel liked that. “Aren’t you British? You sound British.”
“No, I’m from Etreustein—”
“Really?” Joel’s eyes bugged.
The trooper’s face broke into a grin. “You’re surprised.”
“Uhm, well,” Joel stammered. “It is a tiny place and you just seem so cosmopolitan.” Smooth move.
That got a snort from the man. “I’m from there, but I went to boarding school in England. Deliberately acquired the local accent so I wouldn’t stand out from the other kids.”
Joel nodded. “I get it. I went to a private school in New Orleans. And my parents made sure I learned a generic Midwest American accent and not a Nawlins Yat. They felt it would only hold me back.”
“So is your family well off?” Freddie eyed him. “I only ask because most Americans I’ve met go to what you call public schools.”
“No, they’re not—well, they are now. It’s complicated. My dad was in the military. I don’t know what that’s like in the UK, but American soldiers don’t make all that much. My mother worked two jobs to keep me in private school.”
“Oh, I see.” The soldier took another swig of his beer and leaned back in his chair. “That’s interesting.” His eyes narrowed. “And what is a ‘Yat’?”
“The patois of us poor and common folk,” Joel said airily. “It tends to come out when I’m angry.”
“Oooh. I think I saw a bit of that at the museum.”
That made Joel snort. “You think that’s angry? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” The beefy guy’s eyes glinted in amusement.
He’s a flirty little shit. The server came up and took the appetizer plate and Joel’s order. He kept it quick and simple; she was in the weeds.
The trooper crossed his hands on the table in front of him. “So is that what you do? You’re a waiter in New Orleans?”
“No, I grew up in New Orleans, but I live in Manhattan now. I am—or was—a catering waiter, but now I’m an event planner for a boutique company: Five Points Catering on the Lower Eastside.” Joel grimaced. Why did I say that? Like he would know.
“Five Points? There’s a lot of history there,” the red-headed man said.
“You know it?”
“A bit.” The soldier leaned forward. Excitement lit his features. “I loved Gangs of New York and studied up on the period back in the day, as they say. I love history and wanted to be an archaeologist when I was a kid.”
“Oh yeah,” Joel said. “You said that before. What do you do now?”
The man gestured to his camouflage fatigues and the look on his face asked, Really?
Joel took a deep breath and looked heavenward. “I know, that smart ass, but what do you do? Is that a UK uniform?”
The man dropped his head and his face turned beet red. “Yes, Special Forces.”
“I assumed that from the beard and long hair. But why British?” He is so cute when he blushes! Maybe I can meet up with him in Etreustein. Take Robert’s advice and have a vacation fling . . . Joel stopped the thought. No, get your head out of the clouds. This vacation is about the family. We’re only even going to Etreustein because Dad has meetings there . . .
“My mother’s British.” The trooper popped another piece of bread in his mouth and grabbed his lager. “I went to school here and my own country doesn’t have a military.”
“Where are you off to now?” Joel sat forward a
nd grabbed a piece of bread for himself. “I mean, I know you’re going to Etreustein, but are you still deployed?”
“No.” The bearded man hesitated, and something flashed across his eyes. “I am discharged from the service and headed home.”
“Forgive me, but you don’t seem all that excited,” Joel said, buttering his bread.
“No, it’s . . . I have a lot of family obligations waiting.” The trooper leaned back in his chair. “Things I thought I escaped from but are now drawing me back in.”
“Family can be difficult . . . What are you going to do when you get home? Do you have a job waiting?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” the soldier said with a hmm. His brow knitted together, and his eyes looked off in the distance. “I haven’t really lived there in a long time. Only visited, mostly. I have no idea what I’ll be doing, to be perfectly honest.”
“So what would you like to do?” Joel leaned forward. “Is your interest in archaeology at all in the cards?”
“Maybe. My sister is involved with a museum. I’d love to work there,” he said. “How about you? Is event planning your end game?”
“No.” Joel shook his head more vigorously than he intended. The question surprised him. He never thought of it before and took a moment before saying, “I honestly have no idea what I want to do when I grow up. I mean, I love my job, but I feel kinda at loose ends, you know?”
“I do. I feel the same way,” the handsome soldier agreed and sang in a surprisingly sweet tenor, “All in all, I’m all at sea.”
Joel’s eyes narrowed. It sounded familiar.
“It’s from Aida,” the trooper said. “My brother took me to see it on the West End when I was a kid. “
“Ah,” Joel muttered. A soldier that knows musicals? Wow. “All at sea, I like that turn of phrase.”
The trooper gave him a wink, and Joel watched him lift his beer to his full lips and take a long sip. Hypnotic. “You can drink in uniform?”
“Depends. Having a pint at the airport while in transit fine. Getting shitfaced? Not so much.”
The waitress arrived with Joel’s own pint. “Thank you.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to beers in transit.”
