Crash Landing

If he were a cartoon, steam would be shooting out of his ears. “No joking around. Time is of the essence.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Sorry, amigo.”

“I’ll pay handsomely.”

“No can do.”

“What?” He looked stunned that she’d refused him.

“N.O. Nada.”

“How much would it take to change your mind?”

“Money is not the issue.”

“What is?”

“Well, for one thing, I already have a 2:00 p.m. fare.”

“They can wait. Call another bush pilot.”

What an arrogant tool he was. “My, we have a grand sense of our own importance, don’t we?”

Gibb snorted, pressing his lips into a firm line. “This is an emergency.”

“An emergency?” That changed everything. Why was she such a smart mouth? “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said contritely. “Did someone die?”

“Worse.”

Sophia put a hand to her heart. “What is worse than death?”

“Marriage.”

Confused, Sophia pushed her hat back on her head. “Someone is getting married? That is your emergency?”

“Yes.” His voice was flat, brooking no more questions.

Sophia questioned anyway. “You’re against marriage?”

“Not in general. Not for most people. It’s just not my personal bailiwick.”

“Bailiwick?”

“It means sphere of knowledge.”

She grimaced. “Fan-cy.”

“Once upon a time I hired a vocabulary coach, deal with it.”

She raised both palms. “Communication doesn’t work unless you can speak so that others understand you.”

“Andalé, andalé.” He made shooing motions at her. “How’s that for communication?”

“Have you been watching old Speedy Gonzales cartoons?”

“It’s not the correct word?” His face colored.

“Not if you don’t mind sounding like a cartoon mouse. Vámonos or rápido might be what you’re looking for.”

“Well, let’s vámonos, rápido, rápido.”

“There’s one thing I’m still unclear on.”

He exhaled loudly. “What’s that?”

“How is marriage an emergency?”

“I have to stop the wedding.”

“Ah, I see.” She nodded.

“See what?”

“You are still hung up on a former lover and she has broken your heart by marrying another before you could reconcile.”

“No, no.” He shifted, jammed his hands in his pockets and leaned in closer to her. “That’s not it at all.”

She caught a whiff of his scent—kumquat, leather, musk—nice cologne. “Then what is it?”

“She’s all wrong for him.”

“Who?”

“He has only known her a month,” Gibb muttered.

“Who?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“A month!” Gibb exclaimed. “My best friend is getting married to a woman that he’s only known for one month.”

“Oh, I see. That clearly is the end of the world.”

“Would you marry a man you’d only known for a month?”

Sophia grinned, trying to get him to lighten up. “Depends on the man.”