The hum of the jet engines fills your ears as you smooth down the crisp fabric of your uniform, double-checking that every button is in place. It’s your first private charter flight, and nerves flutter in your stomach—not because you’re intimidated, but because this is a whole different world from the commercial flights you’ve been working all summer. A world of luxury, privacy, and, apparently, professional athletes.

You still don’t know exactly who you’re flying today. Some NHL team, but hockey has never been your thing. You vaguely recognize the name when the roster is handed to you, but it means nothing. Just another group of passengers. Richer, maybe. Probably cockier. But still passengers.

The first few players step on board, chatting and laughing loudly like they own the place. And then he walks in.

Tall. Broad shoulders that strain against his perfectly tailored team jacket. Strong jawline, a little stubble, and eyes that hold just the right amount of mischief. You don’t know his name, but you can tell by the way the others naturally gravitate around him that he’s important.

“Hey,” he greets you casually, flashing a smirk. “I like this airline already.”

You raise an eyebrow. Great. A flirt.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you reply smoothly, keeping your professional mask in place.

He grins. “Oh, it definitely is.”

Landon moves past you, throwing his duffle bag into an overhead compartment with ease before dropping into one of the leather seats like he owns it. The rest of the team follows, filling the cabin with laughter and easy energy.

Looks like this flight is going to be interesting.