Page 44 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

She nodded slowly. “That’s how you know you’re built for this. The fear’s never going to go away. But if you can fly right through it without losing your shit, that’s the job.”

I took another drink and mulled over my next statement.

“I felt it all after, though,” I said with embarrassment coloring my voice. “I cried. Like a lot.”

Cheryl raised a brow. “In front of everyone?”

“No. I made it into the bathroom before I lost my shit.”

She nodded. “Well done.”

“I don’t think it was about fear,” I said. “I think it was just everything hitting me all at once. It’s been a wild few weeks. Like my body didn’t know how else to let it all out.”

“That’s pretty normal,” she said, nonchalant. “Happens to the best of us. I once sobbed in a porta-potty for fifteen minutes after a rescue chopper went down. Not my proudest memory. But hell, if you’re not feeling it, you shouldn’t be doing this job.”

I smiled, and then, before I could second-guess telling her the most important part of the story, I just blurted it out, “Dalton found me in the bathroom.”

Laser blinked. “Dalton? Herc?”

“Yeah. He brought me water. Sat on the bathroom floor with me while I bawled like a little girl.”

“Excuse me?” Cheryl sat up straighter, eyes wide.

“Yep.”

“Seriously?” She was clearly incredulous, which confirmed what I suspected. Dalton was not the comforting type. Yesterday was not a normal thing for him.

“Yeah, I think he was freaked out,” I said.

“Why?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “The poor man was so uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to say, but he did pretty well. I didn’t really need him to comfort me. I just had to cry it out.”

“I get it,” she said. “Been there, done that. A good cry makes me feel better.”

“And then we baked cookies,” I said, grinning. “He helped me make all those cookies. He asked what he could to help, and I said bake cookies. He agreed.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m serious.”

“With Herc?”

“Yep. I cried, he panicked, then we made cookies.”

She threw her napkin in the air. “Okay, what the hell is going on? Did he hit his head?”

I couldn’t help laughing. “It was weird. But nice. Like, really nice. He wasn’t his usual asshole self. We just talked and baked. He was different. I wouldn’t say kind, but not the guy riding my ass in the simulator.”

“I’ve known that man for years,” she said. “He doesn’t bake cookies. He doesn’t sit with people. He doesn’t talk. You sure it wasn’t a cardboard cutout?”

“I think he’s just a little nicer than he lets on.”

She gave me a look. “Are you falling for him?”

I nearly choked on my burger. “What? No. No. Definitely not.”

“I’m going to be real with you, baby girl—Dalton doesn’t do feelings. Or relationships. He’s a six-foot wall of muscle and emotional repression. He’s a hit-it-and-quit-it guy. A one-hit wonder. Love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“I’m not falling for him,” I said again. “It was just… a moment.”

“You say that now, but I’ve seen it happen. You get one tiny glimpse of his softer side and suddenly you’re halfway to making him a Spotify playlist.”

“Actually, now that you mention it, he does have quite the taste in music,” I said. “He was the DJ in the kitchen. I even caught him humming along to ‘Pink Skies’ by Zach Bryan. He told me he has a playlist when he’s flying.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that.”

I was regretting telling her about my moment with Dalton. Maybe I should have kept that to myself. Now she was going to think I was lusting after Dalton. I wasn’t. Not really.

Cheryl leaned in like she had a big secret. “Look, by all means—hook up with him if you want. I mean, it’ll be hot. You’ll probably need a fire extinguisher. But if you start feeling things, you better put a helmet on, because that crash is gonna hurt.”

“I hear you.”

“Good. I like you, Janna. And I don’t want to see you heartbroken because you get hit in another Herc drive-by.”

I smiled and did my best to look confident. And casual. Was it really so bad to fall for someone like Dalton?