No Surrender by Sara Arden Page A

about?”
    “Us.” He nodded. “Who we are. And like you said, we’re not dead.”
    “I like that.” She popped a bite of fritter into her mouth. “So what else is on your agenda? The picnic? Motorcycle sex?”
    “Definitely the picnic. What about a ride in a puddle jumper?”
    “Seriously? Yes!”
    When he was a kid, he’d seen those tiny planes called puddle jumpers, sometimes used as crop dusters, in the air. He’d never thought they seemed like a good idea. Even as a pilot, he was amazed at how the science worked to keep those things in the air.
    But she was always ready for an adventure.
    She’d shown him what she could do; he’d seen Betty, her garage. Now it was his turn. He didn’t know why this was suddenly so important to him, but it was. Almost as much as the next breath he took.
    She crammed the rest of the fritter into her mouth and downed the coffee. “Let’s go. I’m ready.”
    He laughed and finished his pastry. “Yeah, okay. Slow down.”
    “Nope. Can’t do that. I might miss something important.”
    “Okay, boss. Take us to the Lawrence Municipal Airport. The little jumper is waiting for us.”
    Back on the bike, in no time at all she was speeding down single-lane highways through cornfields to get to the small airport.
    When she slowed to a stop and took off her helmet, she asked, “So how did you get a plane on such short notice?”
    “Buddy of mine. His family uses one for short trips down to Texas and Oklahoma for cattle auctions. I told him I was in town and had a pretty girl to impress.”
    She blushed. “You did not.”
    “I did.”
    “You don’t ever have to impress me, Sean.” She looked down at her boots, seeming to be suddenly shy.
    He tilted her chin up with his thumb. “Any man you let into your bed better always be trying to impress you.”
    “You’re silly.”
    “Hey, I’m not kidding.” The thought of any other man trying to impress her hit all his buttons. But he knew that wasn’t his place.
    “So where are you taking me?”
    “Where do you want to go?”
    “I want to see the Chalk Pyramids. Can we go that far?”
    “Yeah, I’ll make sure we have enough fuel. It’ll take about an hour, give or take.”
    “Really?” She grinned.
    “If that’s what you want. I’ve never seen them either. It sounds like fun.”
    The small plane was painted red and had his friend’s ranch’s logo painted onto the side so it looked as if it had been branded into it. He did the walk-through with the attendant, made sure it had enough fuel to get them where they wanted to go and home, and registered the flight plan with the tower.
    He double-checked their safety gear and made sure she had a headset so they could talk over the noise during the flight.
    She squealed when they took off and he found it to be incredibly endearing.
    The higher the craft climbed, the more she oohed, aahed and pointed at various things she noticed.
    He liked how she saw the world. How she processed things.
    The landscape began to change. As they left behind the countryside of eastern Kansas—slightly hilly due to glacial till and proximity to the Ozarks—the land started to level out, conforming to what one would expect of Kansas terrain. Flat and endless. But it had its own beauty, from the endless rolling waves of wheat and corn to the green of the Flint Hills dotted with cattle.
    It wasn’t long before the Chalk Pyramids, or Monument Rocks, came into view. They looked as if they belonged in Arizona or Nevada rather than Kansas.
    Some standing at seventy feet tall, they formed buttes and arches, like strange tributes to ancient peoples.
    “I always wanted to see these. I don’t know why I didn’t just get in Betty and drive here,” she said through the mic, her voice tinged with what he thought was awe.
    “Yeah, but this view is much better. Want to get closer?”
    “Yes!”
    He took the little plane down and circled around the chalk formations, gliding as slowly as he dared to let