Flirting with Fifty

“Your left hand,” one of the boys said. “It’s considered unclean.”

“This is true in many countries. You never shake with your left hand, you never take food with your left hand, as the left hand is reserved for bathroom activities, the right hand for eating and greeting.”

The students laughed. Paige grinned, too.

Jack paused a moment just to take in her smile. He loved the shape of her lips, and the way her eyes crinkled. “We’ll have some more specific food discussions in Arusha at the Center, but in case any of you develop an attachment to another in our class, be aware that due to Tanzanian’s modesty, all displays of affection are problematic. No hand-holding, hugging, kissing. In your own room, you can wear whatever you want, but the moment you step outside, you’re to keep thighs, midriffs, and so forth covered. Please don’t make me, or Dr. Newsome, police you. That’s not why we’re here.”

Jack continued to check for messages from Molly, but she never did make it to LAX for the flight. He wondered again about the family emergency, but there was nothing he could do. In the meantime, the students were loading up on snacks at the airport shops and milling about, excitement tangible.

He looked for Paige, who stood off to the side on the phone. She joined him a few minutes later, her expression not as bright.

“What’s wrong?”

She drew a deep breath, shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just a worrier.”

“Who is worrying you?”

“Ashley.” Her brows pulled, lips pursed. “She’s decided to look for an agent and is going to get new headshots next week. That’s always expensive.”

“She’s an adult.”

“I know.”

“Let her try.”

Paige sighed. “I’m trying.”

“Let her fail.”

“That . . . that’s even harder.”

He hugged her, not caring who saw. “You got this, champ,” he said, voice low. “Relax. Let it go.”

*   *   *

Paige was one of the last to board the Istanbul flight. As she headed to her seat, she scanned the back of the plane looking for her students. She wasn’t sitting near Jack, but there were two students in front of her, and another student in a window seat across the aisle from her.

Paige tried to get comfortable, aware that it would be thirteen hours to Turkey, a two hour layover in Istanbul, and then another seven and a half hours to Zanzibar, where they’d overnight before a short flight to Arusha the next day.

Paige had brought books to read, and there were in-flight movies to watch, but after their meal, she decided to try to sleep, but it was impossible with so many people around her. At one point in the middle of the night, she left her seat, moving quietly through the dark cabin to use the restroom. After, she made a loop through the economy section to stretch her legs. Jack was asleep on the far side of the plane. He had a middle seat, and he was sound asleep, an inflatable neck pillow bracing his head, the airplane blanket over his chest. She watched him a moment, feeling protective. Asleep, he looked mortal, and not the larger-than-life Jack King.

Back at her seat, she read for a half hour before trying a movie. The two students seated in front of her were doing the same. There were going to be some very tired people tomorrow, Paige included.

The lights came on two hours before landing so the flight crew could serve a simple continental breakfast. The coffee was strong but bitter, and Paige needed an extra packet of sugar to make it palatable, and then they were making their final descent. Off the plane, Jack counted heads and made sure everyone was together as they went through customs—the line was very long—before heading to the next gate.

Jack told everyone they had forty-five minutes before boarding, and everyone was welcome to buy food, shop, explore but to be back on time because he wouldn’t go looking for missing bodies, and he wasn’t going to miss the flight. “You’ll be on your own,” he said. “You’re an adult, and you’ll have to figure out how to get back home because you won’t be able to join us in Tanzania.”

Paige noticed that some students didn’t move from the gate area, while others went off to buy juice and breakfast rolls. Every student was back with at least fifteen minutes to spare. No one wanted to be left behind.

“You’re good at this,” Paige said to Jack. They were sitting side by side in the waiting area. She’d sat down first and then he took the open seat next to her.

“I’ve had a lot of experience.”

“You trust them to do what needs to be done.”

“Set high standards, have clear expectations, and hold them accountable. It’s the only way these programs work.”

“Have you ever had a student miss a connection?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He had to pay a hefty change fee and use his return ticket to head home.”

She studied the hard planes of Jack’s face, the light in his eyes, the firm mouth she so enjoyed kissing. He glanced at her, eyebrow lifting. She just smiled. “I like you, Jack King.”

He laughed and reached for her hand, his fingers slipping through hers. “I like you, too, Paige Newsome.”

She loved the feel of his hand around hers, loved the warmth and comfort. “I wouldn’t have come on this trip with anyone else.” She looked into his eyes, thinking they were gorgeous with all the gold and green flecks. “But I’m excited to be doing this. Thank you for nudging—um, shoving—me out of my comfort zone.”

“You’re welcome. And if we didn’t have twenty-three students watching, I’d kiss you right now.”

“Probably not a good idea, then.” She looked down at their hands. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this, either.”

“Once we’re in Tanzania we won’t.”

“That’s right. It’s considered PDA.”

“By the way, did I ever tell you how much Oliver liked you?”

She smiled, pleased. “No. But I’m glad he did.”

“He thinks you’re a keeper and I need to hang on to you.”

Paige felt her face warm. She thought of Ashley’s feedback, that Jack was nice, but Paige’s life was perfect the way it was . . . single. She hadn’t objected when Ashley had said it, but Paige should have. She should have at least let Ashley know how much she cared for Jack, and how badly she wanted him to stick around. “I really liked him, too. You did a good job raising him.”