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Walt slipped on his leather flight jacket. “Who wants a ride?”
    Art was first, as always. The men climbed into the biplane, and Walt started her up. The engine’s roar sounded almost as sweet as the duets with Allie. He glanced down at her and saluted, hoping he looked dashing and competent.
    “Come on, Novak, let’s go,” Art called over the engine. “At least I can pretend to fight the enemy.”
    Walt coaxed the plane down the field and into the sky. Yeah, this was the way to fly. Sure, bombers were powerful, but in old Jenny he skipped on the air currents with the wind in his face.
    Once he was over the town, he tapped Art on the shoulder, shook the stick, and pointed to Art. “Take the controls,” he shouted.
    Art gave him a thumbs-up. Walt pulled out his camera and leaned over to get aerial shots of his hometown. He’d received the camera for a college graduation gift and used the first batch of film on planes. Now he’d been away a year and wanted more—his family, friends, and home.
    He took back the controls and wheeled Jenny toward the farm so George could have a ride. A crosswind on the landing allowed Walt to show off his deft hand with the controls. Too bad Allie wouldn’t know how tricky a crosswind landing could be.
    Walt and Art hopped out onto the grass.
    “Boy, am I jealous,” Art said. “You get paid to do that.”
    Walt flipped off his goggles. “Would you believe they pay me extra? Hazardous duty, they call it. Don’t tell them, but I’d fly for free. Ready, George?”
    “You betcha.”
    “No.” Betty tugged on George’s arm. “Oh, darling, not today, not three days before the wedding. I can’t bear to lose you now.”
    “I won’t—”
    “But darling, the Army calls it hazardous for a reason. Please, not today.”
    George sighed and took Betty in his arms. “All right. Just this once.”
    Oh brother. Walt wanted one more ride, but Grandpa was busy with chores, Dorothy had never gone up, and Allie was too proper for an adventure. Or was she?
    Allie hadn’t taken her eyes off the plane. Walt recognized that look. He’d seen it on the faces of his fellow cadets the first day of flight school. He stepped in front of her. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
    Allie’s eyes widened, green as those cadets. “I’ve never flown before.”
    “Want to?”
    “Maybe.” Her lips barely moved.
    He grinned. Yep, she might be the one for him.
    Betty let out a scream. “No, Allie. I need you in the wedding.”
    Despite Betty yanking her arm, Allie didn’t break her gaze with Walt. “Would it be like Art’s flight? No aerobatics?”
    “No loops, no snap rolls, no dives, I promise.”
    Betty hugged Allie’s arm. “Don’t believe him. He did it to George.”
    “Just once,” George said, “and I asked for it.”
    Walt shuddered. “Yeah, and I had to clean out the plane afterward. Never again. Only when I’m alone.”
    “All right,” Allie said.
    Walt stared at her. “You’ll go? Wow. Come on, let’s get you suited up before this whiner changes your mind.”
    Her eager smile told him the whiner wouldn’t win. Good. The woman had some spirit. He took off his flight jacket and handed it to her.
    “Don’t you need it?”
    “Nah. Gotta get used to the cold. B-17s fly at over twenty thousand feet. Minus twenty degrees up there, sometimes colder.”
    He helped her with the leather flight helmet, careful to concentrate on the buckle, not on the soft skin under her chin. Then he stepped back to inspect his work. His jacket hung over her hips, the goggles covered her gorgeous eyes, and curls stuck out under the helmet. Cutest copilot he’d ever had.
    “Okay, Allie, up you go.” He laced his fingers together to brace her foot. “Is that ‘Allie up’ or ‘Allie oop’?”
    She laughed and climbed into the front cockpit. “If I slip, it’ll be ‘Allie oops.’”
    Boy, did he like her. He climbed into the rear cockpit, nudged the plane across the golden