Page 61 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

A wave of apprehension swept across our table. Dalton froze. Laser actually paled.

“I’d love some,” I said brightly, raising my hand like an idiot.

Chief beamed like I was his long-lost daughter. “That’s the spirit, rookie! Just a little kick to it. These guys are crybabies.” He handed me a bowl. “When you’re ready for seconds, I’ve got a big pot.”

I was full, but I loved homemade chili. Chief walked off to offer some to the next group.

Dalton leaned over, his voice low in my ear. “Whatever you do, do not eat that chili.”

“Oh, come on,” I said.

“He’s not kidding,” Laser added. “It’s like molten death. We think he’s lost all the taste buds in his mouth from the cigars.”

“Don’t let it touch your skin,” Pickle said solemnly.

I grinned. “You’re all being dramatic.”

I dipped the tip of my spoon in, like I was testing a lava pit, and tapped a single drop to my tongue. I was pretty sure lava wouldn’t be as hot.

My entire body jolted. My eyes watered instantly. My tongue felt like it had caught fire and invited friends over for a bonfire. I coughed, I gasped, and I dove for my beer like a woman possessed.

“Oh my God. Oh my GOD.”

Everyone burst out laughing as I grabbed Pickle’s beer next. I didn’t care that I was swapping spit with the guy. My mouth was aflame. Burning through my very soul. I could feel the heat sliding down my throat, leaving a trail of char in its wake.

“That’s not helping!” I wailed, coughing and hiccupping and sweating.

Cheryl was doubled over. “We warned you!”

Chief, now happily dispensing more chili to unsuspecting fools, didn’t even notice. Dalton, on the other hand, stood up and said, “Come on. I know how to fix this.”

“You’re going to cut my tongue out?” I asked.

He laughed. “Milk. Ice cream. It’s the only cure.”

“Is there milk here?” I managed to gasp the words.

“Nah, but I know where to find some ice cream. Come on.”

I was in such a state, I couldn’t get up on my own. Dalton’s strong arms were there, lifting me from the bench and steadying me on my feet.

He guided me toward the dessert table, where he grabbed two ice cream cones from a couple serving them and handed one to me.

I took a big bite. The cool sweetness was heaven, even if I could still feel smoke seeping from my pores.

“That was a trap,” I said. “Do people actually eat that stuff?”

Dalton grinned. “It’s tradition. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Can that be my callsign? Chili?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the name you want.”

We wandered away from the crowd and the music faded a bit. We made our way into the hangar with his plane.

“Did they get it fixed?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’m giving Gabriel the chance to take care of it before I start riding his ass again.”