“Yes, that’s what he said,” Miranda agreed.
And there it was again. Repetition appeared to annoy Miranda Chase. But annoy was too strong a word. It was as if she…had no use for repetition? Instead she continued to stare at Sadie.
Before Susan could test that theory, Holly came forward and scooped Sadie out of Miranda’s lap and dropped into the fourth seat.
Sadie squeaked in surprise at the rude awakening. Holly was holding her around the middle, leaving her hindquarters to dangle. Her little doggie kicks had nothing to push against.
“Have you been terrorizing our Miranda?”
“Hey,” Andi handed her tablet computer to Miranda, then scooped Sadie out of Holly’s grasp. Making a cradle of her arms, she sat on Miranda’s chair arm. Miranda held the tablet in one hand and began picking individual dog hairs off her jeans with the other. A Shih Tzu didn’t shed much, but she picked up each hair individually and dropped it into the remaining ice of Mike’s ginger ale glass.
Susan noticed that Miranda didn’t move away to give Andi more room to sit, nor did Andi attempt to hold herself clear of Miranda. Was Miranda that comfortable with all of her team, or were they a couple? If the latter, they hadn’t given a single prior sign of it. Though they had shared that seat on the Humvee, that had struck her as expediency, as neither woman could weigh a hundred and ten.
Sadie snuggled down in Andi’s arms with a happy wiggle. At least until Holly reached across the aisle to place a fingertip atop Sadie’s nose. Sadie tried to free her nose, but Holly’s touch followed her every motion. Sadie became annoyed enough to try and nip Holly’s finger but couldn’t manage it.
“Ms. Harper,” Susan offered her best displeased command tone.
Holly continued the game for several more seconds before Andi raised an elbow to block her.
“You may,” Miranda said without looking up from checking to see if she’d missed any hairs.
“I may what?” These people were confusing the crap out of her.
Miranda almost looked directly at her, but not quite.
Mike came to Susan’s rescue, “Explain why we’re being whisked to Southeast Asia with an Air Force Commander riding herd on us.”
Finally.“I—”
“We’re not a pack of sheep or cows,” Miranda noted. “Why would she be riding herd on us?”
“It’s a—”
“Because we’re an unruly mob.” Holly signaled someone out of sight behind Susan and the steward came up beside her. “Any chance of a quick pint in this flying pub?”
“No, ma’am,” the steward replied. “We’re a military craft and don’t stock alcohol.”
“You’re joshing me, mate. This is a top-brass bird. Nothing set aside for the VIPs? I find that a fair stretch.” Her accent was shifting from light to broad Australian. “How about a spider?”
“Ew!” Mike and Andi said in unison.
“A spider, ma’am?” The steward was unflappable.
“Do you have root beer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And vanilla ice cream?”
“Ice cream sandwiches.”
“Ace! Scoop the middle of the latter into a glass of the former and you’ve got a spider.”
“Ma’am would like a root beer float?”
“That’s what I’ve been sayin’, mate. Do your worst.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he departed with a smile after clearing up some of the detritus, including Mike’s dog-haired ginger ale glass.