Page 23 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

I put my glass down with a thud and turned to face her fully. She was bold, I’d give her that. And pretty. And if I wasn’t thinking about a sexy little blonde chick, I might have taken her up on her offer.

“Listen, I’m not interested. Thanks for the offer, but I’m here to drink and eat a burger. That’s it. Maybe another time, but I’m tired and I’m really, really not in the mood.”

For a moment, she looked like she might argue, but then she smirked giving me a onceover that felt like she was undressing me with her eyes. “Your loss,” she said with a shrug before sliding off the stool and sauntering away.

Pickle let out a low whistle as he watched her go. “Man, you are one cold son of a bitch.”

“Feel free to go after her,” I muttered, grabbing my beer again.

“She never even noticed me,” he said with a laugh. “That woman was ready to climb you like a tree.”

“Good for her,” I said flatly.

The bartender slid two plates in front of us—burgers piled high with all the fixings and a side of fries. I didn’t waste any time digging in, hoping the food would shut Pickle up for at least five minutes.

It didn’t.

“So, why’d you lose your shit today?”

“You know why.” I grabbed a napkin and wiped my mouth. “That was fucked up.”

“Yeah, but you know our equipment has been put through the wringer. Shit happens.”

“No excuse. Malfunctioning gear is a death sentence in the sky. The question isn’t why I lost my shit. It’s why no one else did too.”

I took another man-size bite of my burger and heard a sound. Not just any sound. One that sent the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I whipped my head around and son of a bitch. She was haunting me.

Janna.

She sat at a table with Laser, laughing at something. Her cheeks were pink from the heat or the beer or maybe the way she laughed with her whole damn soul. It was like looking into the sun. They had a spread of food on the table that would make a group of frat boys proud. She reached for a scoop of nachos, stuffed it in her face, and washed it down with beer.

What the fuck? The pretty little princess was normal? She wasn’t the bouncy sorority sister she first presented as. I already knew that after watching her in the sim, but still. Seeing her wearing a basic shirt with a deep V in the front, her hair loose and almost no makeup, was doing something to me. The other woman made me feel nothing, despite her best efforts, but Janna was grabbing me without even trying.

What the hell was she doing to me? My cock was twitching. My palms were itching. And an old familiar feeling hummed through my veins. It wasn’t just your basic excitement. It was hunger, like a vampire when it smelled blood.

I turned back to my beer and drained the glass. Slammed it a little harder than I meant to.

Pickle raised a brow. “Thirsty?”

“Another,” I said to the bartender.

Pickle followed my gaze across the room. “Ah,” he said knowingly. “Got it.”

“Don’t start with your bullshit.”

He grinned. “She’s cute. Pretty. Sexy.”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about Laser?” I asked.

He blinked and sputtered into his beer. “It’s not like that. She’s—whatever don’t change the subject.”

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re the one falling for a fellow pilot, and you’re projecting those feelings onto me.”

“Maybe. Janna is cute, though,” Pickle added. “Fiery, too. I like her. Not the way you like her, but still.”

I snorted. “She called me an asshole.”

“Yeah, which means she’s perceptive, too. I mean, you were being an asshole.”