Page 5 of Landing Love

“How do you do it, Hawley? How did you get the Princess of New York to fall for you so hard that she’s invented an entire charity just to see you when I can’t even—” Too far.

“Can’t even what?” Hawley turned to face him, head cocked to the side.

Can’t even find a woman who makes me want to do more than tell her jokes and fix her cabinet hinges. But Bill wasn’t ready to confess to Hawley, not just yet. He needed to know for certain whether Hawley’s feelings were as deep as he suspected they might be. He didn’t want to be laughed out of the room for admitting he wanted a meaningful relationship.

Bill took a sip of whiskey, grateful for the warm oblivion it offered. He had to distract from his near-confession, and fast. “Don’t think I missed that you let slip that you saw her again after the flight.”

Giving him a long look, Hank finally admitted, “Yes, I saw her again.”

“And?”

Hank took a long deep drink of his whiskey, as if it was water. “I’m not discussing this.”

“I’ll draw my own conclusions then, shall I?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Have you two been canoodling?” If he put Hank on the spot, maybe he’d forget what Bill almost said.

“Dammit, O’Donnell,” Hank said, slamming his empty glass on the bar. Heads turned all around them, then went back to their business when they saw the drama was momentary.

Thank God. It worked.

Clearly, Hank was in a bad way. Bill had never seen him like this. Rory Belmont had him tied up in so many knots, he would never undo them all. Neither of them seemed capable of walking away. It all sounded suspiciously like love.

Bill, on the other hand, was as far from finding love as ever. He played the gallant and then let them go because that was all he could bring himself to do. He had yet to find a woman who fell for him the way Rory had for Hank, and, truth be told, he was envious. He was a foolish romantic, he supposed—a foolish romantic with blue balls.

Someday, though, he would meet the right woman, and he’d know. She would be absolute perfection, just like Hank said. She didn’t need to be beautiful, though Bill wouldn’t mind if she was. It was her inner beauty that mattered. She would be kind and caring. Everyone who knew her would love her. She would have a generous spirit, always thoughtful in word and deed. Her intelligence would sparkle. And for some reason, this paragon of a woman would find his endless palaver endearing. She wouldn’t mind that no matter how much he exercised and ate, he never seemed to bulk up. He was eternally a beanpole, like his father. She would see past his flaws and nonsense and love him for his true self. And that was all that mattered.

“I think I’m falling in love with her,” Hank mumbled into the new drink the bartender just delivered to him.

And there it was—the confession he’d been waiting for. And yet something still held him back from admitting his own sentiments to his friend. How would Hawley react? Maybe it was best to keep things light. “Yes, I think you might be, you pathetic gorilla. I’ve never seen you like this. I hope you let Dorothy down easy.”

Hank chuckled. “Dorothy is just fine without me. It was never serious between us. When I ended things, she asked about you, you know. Seems she has a soft spot for Irish gossips.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot up. “Dorothy asked about skinny old me? But she’s…” He made the shape of a voluptuous figure with his hands. Dorothy was very lovely indeed, but as usual these days, he would have ended up fixing her leaky faucet and fleeing for the hills. He knew very well what sort of arrangement she had with Hank, and while he might once have jumped at it, the offer held no appeal at present.

Hank shrugged. “No accounting for taste, but you might ring her up if you’re interested. That is if you haven’t found true love with this Edith you mentioned.”

Knowing he absolutely would not be calling Dorothy, he cleared his throat. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to give her a call.”

“She’s so goddamn beautiful,” Hank mumbled into his drink.

“I assume we’re not talking about Dorothy?”

Giving him a “don’t be ridiculous” look, Hank hunched on his barstool. “She’s smart and brave and creative and daring and…” He tapered off and stared into the depths of his drink.

“She sounds very nice.” Bill could hear the note of envy in his own voice, and he wanted to kick himself.

Hank laughed. “Nice. I’m sure she’s kind and caring, but Rory Belmont isn’t a nice girl. She very much falls in the naughty category, just where I like her.”

That sounded more like the old Hank, which was a bit disappointing. But Bill bit his tongue. After all, this was the type of juicy gossip Bill supposedly lived for. “Do tell.”

“The first time I met her, she was in my goddamn Jenny, pretending she was about to take off.” Hank stared at the propeller mounted on the wall wistfully.

“When did you meet, by the way? It was before that time she visited the airfield with her father. Don’t think I missed how you looked at each other that morning.”

“You want to know?” Hank asked, focusing too intently on Bill with his drunken gaze. “You really want to know?”

“Yes, I do.”

“She sneaked away from her engagement party and climbed into my airplane like she was planning to steal it.”