Page 131 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

She pulled off her mask. She looked a little better. The wind had shifted, and while it was still smoky as hell, it wasn’t as bad out there. It gave us all a chance to breathe easier. I kept the oxygen on Pickle.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I almost laughed. She crashed landed. Spent thirty minutes inside an inferno and she was asking if I was okay.

“I’m better knowing you’re alive.”

“Was that our escape plan?” she asked.

I grimaced. “I didn’t really have a plan. I just knew I needed to get to you. We can wait it out. They’ll send a chopper.”

“Pickle needs medical attention,” she said. “And me in a helicopter doesn’t give me the warm and fuzzies.”

“Helicopter’s our only shot.”

She turned to me, looking at me with some of that fire I was used to seeing in her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

I didn’t hesitate. “With my life.”

A slow grin spread across her face. And I was suddenly worried. That was the kind of smile that meant trouble. “Good, because I have a really bad idea.”