A wonderful love story by the best selling regency romance author, Francine Howarth
Short Stories/Flash Fiction
This piece is dedicated to the RAF Red Arrows Air Display Team.
A touch of romance added, of course!
“No,” came the reply. Mac sounded exasperated in extreme. “Dave said, to tell you to get down here as soon as you can.”
“I hate to say it, but his exact words were, tell her to hot-foot pedal to metal, or I won’t be home tonight. It’s her call.”
“Shit . . . I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean what I said this morning.”
“Ummm. Well . . . Go to hell kind of rankles us blokes. Believe it, his low fly exercise today was less up up and away and more akin to scything grass than I’d care to see for a second run tomorrow.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, so do us all a favour and cheer him up before he clips his wings first thing.”
“I’m on my way.”
* * *
What in hell was going on? She clamped her hands to ears. The blast of jet engines deafening as the whole team of scarlet red aircraft lifted off the runway and soared almost vertical. The lead aircraft, Dave’s, arced to left; the others following seconds apart in timed formation, each falling away to perform a specific manoeuvre.
Eyes glued to the lead plane she watched it dip, then soar upward leaving a short blast of red coloured taper in its wake. I
A second and third aircraft performed L
Fourth aircraft a circle O
Within seconds I Love You in red, white, and blue hovered above the airfield.
Then came a low fly past, really low with intermittent dipping of lead aircraft’ wings before it turned to come in to land.
Mad fool, didn’t he realise she loved him, too?
She waited while the aircraft taxied back, parked up, and all pilots shimmied down from their cockpits.
Amidst much laughter Dave calmly removed his flight helmet and approached her a big grin on his face, “Right, that’s my line. What’s yours?”
“Will you marry me?”
“At last,” he said, arm coiling around her waist in python-like grip, “thought you’d never ask.”
“You’re supposed to do the asking.”
“What, and get my head bitten off for pressuring you.”
“Kiss me, sexy,” oozed purr-like.
“Now this new you, I like. Like a lot.”
“So kiss me.”
The above is dedicated to the RAF Red Arrows Air Display Team.
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