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“Not like you could right now, but…okay.” I fluffed the pillow under my head and, when it still wasn’t enough, folded it in half. Then I closed my eyes and dreamed of all the ways I could torment Panther tomorrow—and win back my money.
7 Panther
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
In my dream, I was in the cockpit of my plane, getting ready to take off when someone knocked on the canopy. I looked around, trying to see who it was, but there was no one there.
Knock knock knock.
Wait…no one was knocking on the canopy. And I wasn’t dreaming.
I cracked my eyes open to see Solo sitting up on the floor beside my bed, his blanket tangled around his legs.
“You expecting company this early?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep as he rubbed his eyes. Just the sight of him half-naked and so close was enough to send the erection I’d woken up with into throbbing levels.
Until the knocking on my door started up again.
“I’ll get it.” I kicked the sheet off, but as I went to sit up, Solo was already getting to his feet.
“Nah, I got it.” His eyes shot down to my hips, and when he saw what I was sporting, he groaned. “Fuck. Just…cover yourself.” As he unlocked the door, he muttered, “Words I never thought I’d say.”
I lay back down as he opened the door to deal with whoever had come to call so early, but when I heard my parents’ voices, I shot straight back up.
Oh fuck. I stared at Solo in horror. He hadn’t bothered throwing anything on over his boxer briefs, which meant he was currently shooting the shit with my parents in his underwear.
Shit. He had to keep them out. This would look worse than it was—
Solo opened the door wide and gestured for my parents to come on in, like there was no reason to keep them out. Like he wasn’t half-naked and I was still in bed, and—
“Oh. I thought we had the wrong room, but here you are.” My mother hesitated in the doorway and then stepped inside, careful not to touch the pile of bedding on the ground.
“Let me get that out of the way.” Solo tossed the pillow on the bed, scooped up the sheets, and then set about picking up his discarded clothes. I noticed my father hadn’t moved from his spot just outside the door, watching Solo’s every move like a hawk. Probably wondering why he was here, why he was naked, and why he’d obviously stayed the night.
Shoot me. Shoot me now.
Mom bit her lip as she sat on the edge of the bed beside me, her eyes scanning over my face like she was assessing the state of my injuries.
“It looks worse than it is,” I said, letting her take that double meaning whichever way she chose. I meant it both ways, but she chose to focus on me while my father continued to stare Solo down.
“Oh baby,” she said, her chin quivering as she lightly touched my face.
I could feel the tension in the room, so thick you could cut it with a steak knife. Solo cleared his throat where he stood in the corner of the room holding his clothes and blankets over his practically naked body, though he didn’t seem uncomfortable about that fact at all.
“You good?” he asked me, and when I nodded, he returned the gesture. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll give you all some privacy. I’ll be next door not listening through the thin wall, so don’t say anything I wouldn’t.” He grinned as he slipped out of the room, but when he saw the steely expression on my father’s face, it dropped slightly. “I’ll see you around, Captain Hughes.”
My father raised an eyebrow. “Hopefully not as…much of you.”
Solo chuckled. “Right.”
As soon as Solo was out of sight, my father finally stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind him.
Here it comes…
“I thought I told you not to associate with that young man.”
“Can we not talk about—”
“The fact that your door was just opened by a fellow trainee of yours who was practically naked?”
The contempt in my father’s tone had my blood boiling, and before I could stop myself, I fired back, “Considering the time of day, don’t you think you should be grateful he didn’t answer the door fully naked?”
“Grant Fredrick Hughes,” my mother said as she reached for my hand and patted it, no doubt trying to calm me. But I wasn’t in the mood. I’d close to died days ago, and the first thing out of his mouth was this shit? Fuck that. “You know your father is just worried about—”
“Himself?” I sat up a little straighter in bed, wincing at the effort. “His reputation? Oh yes, I know he’s worried about that, Mom.”
“That’s enough, Grant.” My father’s voice was like a whip cracking in the room, and as I looked at him, spine ramrod straight, grim set of his lips, I almost felt bad for running my mouth—almost. “The last thing you need to do right now is get worked up.”
