Page 31 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re so rude!”

“You stink like stale whiskey. That’s not rude, that’s honest. Go eat. Shower and sleep. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

“You’re such a jerk.” She stomped out of the room.

Yes, I was, but she needed a reality check. I shut off the lights and left the room. My keys, wallet, and phone were in my pocket. That was all I needed. I pulled on my sunglasses and walked to the employee parking lot, then climbed in my F-250 and headed for home.

I had the next few days off. I was one of the few that actually lived in the area. I didn’t mind staying in the dorms when I was on duty, but if I was off for a few days or on the two-week cycle, I went home. I liked the solitude. I needed it.

I got home and made myself a late breakfast or early lunch while I listened to my favorite playlist. It was a combination of country, rock, and folk. Luke Bryan’s “One Margarita” drifted through my Bluetooth speaker on the wall. I preferred music over TV. There just wasn’t shit on TV these days.

I opened the back door and stepped out onto my deck. Contentment and calm washed over me as I stared out over the gorge. I inhaled the scent of nature and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

I walked back inside and grabbed my sketchpad and colored pencils. I sat in my chair, feet propped up on the railing, and started to sketch. Sketching was how I processed. How I avoided drinking more than I should. It kept me from losing my shit. I would never sell my drawings in a gallery and most of it was never seen by anyone else. It was just for me.

My eyes gazed out over the gorge and then back to the paper. It was funny, because when I was sketching, I wasn’t really seeing anything. It was like my hands moved on their own, guided subconsciously.

At some point I looked at the page, expecting to see the usual mountain range and trees, but that’s not what I saw.

It was a silhouette of a woman.

Janna.

I stared at the page. At her.

“Shit. No. Fuck that.”

I reached for the eraser and started to rub at the page as if I could scrub away her face. It couldn’t happen. She was a teammate. One of us. Not some layover fling or lonely stewardess who knew the score. Janna was part of the mission. Part of the team I needed to trust and who needed to trust me. Getting involved would be selfish and stupid.

Dangerous. For her and for me.

Allowing myself to get distracted could get people killed. I clenched my jaw and kept erasing until the paper tore. I had to stay away.

I would tell Laser to take over her training. I had to keep my distance and let this thing between us cool off before it ever got a chance to burn. There was no ignoring the tension. Not for me at least. I hated feeling out of control.

My phone buzzed on the table beside me. I was going to ignore it, but when I glanced at the screen I saw it was Chief. My eyes went out to the horizon in search of smoke. I didn’t see anything.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Hey, Herc, we’ve got a man down. Tucker twisted his damn knee loading gear this morning. He’s out for at least a week.”

“I told him he needed to stretch before work.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to need you back tomorrow. You’ll be flying with Janna.”

I stood up. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, Dalton. This isn’t a debate. You’ll be taking her on her first real flight here.”

I closed my eyes. He didn’t understand why it was such a bad idea. If he did, he would not be asking me to do this.

I gritted my teeth. “Fine.”

“See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I said and ended the call.

Shit.