Page 94 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

I expected that. “Yeah, yeah.”

I knelt by the engine compartment of the S-2. My knuckles still ached from yesterday’s idiotic brawl, but I ignored it. Engine repair was straightforward. A problem arises, you diagnose it, fix it, and move on. No guessing games, no hidden meanings. Just pure mechanics.

No drama.

Women, on the other hand? That was a whole different beast. Janna’s face flashed in my mind. I’d fucked up, and I knew it. I’d let my temper get the better of me, and now she was avoiding me. Hell, I didn’t blame her. I’d acted like a possessive idiot, and now I was paying the price.

But last night had been different. I thought she and I had come to some kind of understanding. Maybe that could have been true if we actually talked instead of just sitting together. Yesterday, she didn’t seem to need words. She’d been cool just hanging out.

“Well, well, well,” Pickle drawled, leaning against the wing of the plane. “I thought you might stay away.”

“Why?” I asked.

He laughed. “Chief didn’t fire your ass?”

“Nope.”

“Seen your victims?”

I scoffed. “Victims? Yeah, right. If those guys can’t take a few hits, they have no business around fire.”

He chuckled again. “How’s the hand?”

“Fine.”

“I figured you might have broken a finger or two.”

I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him. “I know how to throw a punch to keep from breaking my damn hand.”

He snorted. “Janna didn’t come back to the dorms last night.”

I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t like he needed me to. He laughed and walked away.

I was going to be stuck listening to all the bullshit for at least a week. Maybe we’d get a call for a fire, and everyone would forget all about the incident.

I checked my phone again and there was still nothing. Maybe Janna was trying to forget about the incident and me.