There was also a seaplane base on a shallow lake that paralleled the runway, host to several flightseeing services. That much she saw before 68 Kilo kissed the tarmac of Blewestown Airport’s in a runway paint job. She let the craft run out of steam with only a gentle application of the brakes—there was plenty of room, after all—and when 68 Kilo had slowed down to a walking pace kicked the rudder over to turn around and go find her man.

She saw him instantly. She always did. He was standing next to a brand shiny new pickup truck parked next to 78 Zulu. It said something of her besotted state that she didn’t spare a glance for the Super Cub.

She couldn’t just see Liam’s smile from a thousand feet away, she could feel it. She always could. She made her way sedately to the tie-down and swung the tail around. She shut off the engine and the prop slowed and stopped. He caught the door in his hand as she opened it. “Hey.”

She returned his smile with one of her own that seemed to light her face from within. Did he look like that when he looked at her? He pulled her down from the aircraft and onto the tarmac and at long, long last into his arms.

“Hey backatcha,” she said, sounding breathless, her face turned up to his.

He looked at her for a long moment, his hands on her waist, her full, lush body firm against his, his own body already reacting because ’twas ever thus. “I missed you.”

Her eyes roamed over him, hungry for every detail. The thick brown hair that gleamed with reddish lights fell over eyes so dark a blue they were like the sea at twilight. His nose was arrogant, his chin obstinate, his carriage commanding. He was tall and broad-shouldered and long-legged and drew the world’s attention just by moving through it.

And he was smart, and funny, and kind. He was her lover and her best friend and her warm oasis in the indifferent desert that would be life without him. She could see his pulse beating in his throat and touched her fingers to it. “‘I am to see to it that I do not lose you.’”

“What?” he said, deafened by the look in her eyes.

“Nothing. Just me channeling my inner Whitman. I missed you, too, Liam. Every day.” She stood on her tiptoes, deliberately rubbing her body against his, and murmured against his mouth, “And every night.”

With a will of their own his hands slid down over her ass and pulled her in tight against him and he forgot the world until someone gave a loud wolf whistle and someone else yelled, “Get a room!”

He pulled back to see that she was flushed and laughing. Neither of them cared enough to look around to see who was making fun of them. “Let’s go home,” he said.

“Does it have a bed?”