Page 28 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

I groaned, stood up, and attempted to take a step but tripped over my shoes.

“What the hell…” I croaked.

Another bang, followed by a voice I absolutely did not want to hear first thing in the morning.

“Get up,” Dalton barked. “Time to hit the simulator.”

Shit.

I cracked the door open. “Are you kidding me?”

He stood there looking way too smug. He had the look of a man who definitely went to bed at a responsible hour. His arms were crossed. His shirt was tight. His expression said he was enjoying making my life a living hell.

“We’re scheduled for eight,” he said.

“I was sleeping.”

“Then you should’ve gotten drunk earlier last night.”

I groaned and pressed my hand to my head. “You’re the worst person alive.”

“Just wait until I’m done with you.”

He turned and walked away. I knew he was gloating.

“Fucker.” I closed the door and leaned my head against it.

“Tell that bastard I said he can eat a cactus,” Cheryl mumbled.

“I think I’d prefer to stick it up his ass.”