Page 22 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

9

DALTON

Pickle and I found two stools at the bar. I felt eyes on us but I ignored it. I was used to people staring. Folks knew me around here. And Pickle? Well, everyone loved Pickle.

“Two beers,” Pickle said, slapping the bar. “Whatever’s on tap.”

The bartender grabbed two frosted glasses and started filling them. I scanned the room out of habit. It was the usual suspects. I nodded at a few pilots I recognized from other crews. They nodded in response before returning to their conversations.

The jukebox was blasting some old Lynyrd Skynyrd song. The owner had a thing for classic rock. I didn’t. At least, I never used to, but the more I hung out here, it started to grow on me.

The bartender put our glasses in front of us. “Anything to eat, fellas?”

“Burgers,” I replied.

“Coming right up.”

I nodded my thanks to him. We didn’t have to get into the specifics. Burgers was enough. That was why I liked this place. It wasn’t pretentious. No one was going to look sideways at me if I chewed with my mouth open or didn’t put a napkin in my lap to eat.

I grabbed the beer and took a long pull. It tasted damn good. Pickle had been right. It was exactly what I needed.

“So, what’s the deal with you and the new girl? “

I almost choked on the drink, then shot him a look that would’ve made most men run in the opposite direction. Pickle just laughed.

“Come on, man,” he said. “She’s cute. Smart. And she’s got balls—standing up to you like that? Most people wouldn’t dare. It’s all anyone can talk about. The new kid with a death wish.”

“We already covered this,” I said. “I’m not interested in talking about her anymore.”

He started to say something more but I tuned him out. The song switched up and nineties Aerosmith started to pump through the speaker.

“Did you make the drop?” I asked.

“Yep.” He nodded. He already knew what I was talking about. “Me and Chuckles nailed it first try.”

“Fuck you,” I grumbled.

He laughed. “You’ll be happy to know the ground crew had it handled within hours. They’re staying on site to make sure there aren’t any flare-ups.”

“Good.”

A woman slid onto the stool next to me. She was brunette, mid-thirties maybe, with dark eyes and a smile that was all teeth. She was wearing a low-cut blouse that revealed plenty of her assets.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “You boys look like you could use some company.”

Pickle grinned at her like she was Christmas morning. “My friend could use a little stress relief.”

I shot him a dirty look.

The woman leaned in closer, her perfume washing over me. It was heavy and floral and not my thing. Her fingers brushed against my arm as she tilted her head, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder. “You look like you’ve had a rough day,” she purred, her voice dripping with invitation. “Maybe I can help with that.”

I took another swig of my beer, not bothering to look at her. “I doubt it.”

She didn’t take the hint. Instead, she slid her hand up my forearm, her nails lightly grazing my skin. “You sure? I’m great at relaxing people.”

Pickle chuckled beside me, clearly enjoying the show. “She’s got a point, Herc. You could use a little unwinding.”

I shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel, but he just shrugged, grinning like an idiot. The woman wasn’t deterred. She leaned in even closer, her breath warm against my ear with her breasts smashed against my arm. “Come on, big guy. Let me take care of you.”