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"He's been pushing pretty hard for it."

"I will name this child Megatron before I name her Jenny."

I laugh, leaning back against the wooden slats of the bench. It’s so easy to be with her, and I’m always a little bit surprised by how much fun I have just hanging out. "Colston’s going to be devastated. He already bought a tiny onesie with a matching t-shirt for him."

"He did not."

"He did. It's hilarious."

Goldie rolls her eyes, taking another bite of her food. "If you and Colston are anything to go by, your friends are insane. The guy is basically a golden retriever with a dirty mouth."

"They're good guys," I say, watching a pelican dive toward the water. "Trace kept me out of jail in college, and Jenny’s the best co-pilot on the base. I trust them with my life."

"What about your dads?" she asks, turning her head to look at me. "How did they handle you wanting to fly into hurricanes?"

"Daniel, my biological dad, was the one I told you about, the Navy pilot," I explain. "He's the one who taught me how to fly. He gets it. Mark’s the one who worries. He usually bakes about four dozen cookies every time I deploy to keep his hands busy."

Goldie smiles, a soft, genuine expression that changes her entire face. "They sound amazing."

"They are. They hired a surrogate to have me. They wanted a family more than anything, so they made it happen." I look at her, taking in the messy dark hair blowing across her cheek and the dress clinging to her gorgeous body. "I guess I inherited that determination."

She lets out a quiet laugh. "Well, considering the lengths we just went to so we could have a baby, I'd say you aren't the only one."

We sit there for another hour as the beach empties out and we talk. We talk about how she built her photography studio from the ground up, hustling for five years to make it successful. I listen to her explain how she loves making women feel powerful in their own skin, and the fierce, unapologetic passion in her voice sinks its teeth into my chest and refuses to let go.

I eat my tacos and watch the ocean breeze mess up her hair. Being around her is like finally exhaling after holding my breath for the three fucking years I was married to Delia. I don't have to pretend. I don't have to carve pieces of myself off to fit into someone else's sterile, boring little box.

By the time the sun sets and the stars start to flicker into existence overhead, we throw our trash away and walk back to our cars. The space between us shrinks as we walk. The back of her hand brushes against mine, warm skin grazing my knuckles, and a violent jolt shoots straight through my veins. I want to lace my fingers through hers. I want to pull her tight against my side and claim her right here with the waves crashing behind us.

But I force my hands into tight fists at my sides instead, digging my nails into my palms. As much as I want everything from this woman, I can’t push her, and I promised I’d be on my best behavior tonight if she came out with me.

"Thanks for the tacos," Goldie says, leaning against the driver's side door of her SUV. "And for showing up." Her voice drops an octave, turning a little breathless as her eyes drag down the length of my body. The look she gives me is so hungry it’s almost like we didn’t just eat dinner. "Even if you were late and dressed like... that."

I step into her space, stopping just close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. "I'm always going to show up, Goldie."

She looks up at me, searching my face in the almost-dark. The coastal breeze kicks up, rattling the dry fronds of the palm trees lining the edge of the street, but the only thing I can focus on is the uneven hitch of her breathing. That invisible tether between us pulls so taut it feels like it might snap my ribs. I want to lean down and taste the salt on her lips. I want to back her up against the metal of her car and devour her until my lungs burn.

But I force my hands to stay balled in tight fists at my sides. I can't rush this. If I push her now, she's going to throw her walls up even higher.

"Drive safe," I tell her, taking a step back.

Goldie blinks, looking almost confused that I'm backing off. She clears her throat and opens her car door. "Yeah. You too."

I stand in the empty parking lot and watch her taillights disappear down the street.

My dad used aviation to tame the reckless kid I used to be, and I spent the last three years burying whatever was left of him because I thought I had to compromise who I was for love. But Goldie just ripped the cage wide open. She draws out a side of me I haven't felt in a decade. With her, I feel wild again. Untamed. More alive and free than I do flying blind into the eyewall of a storm. I'm in deep. I'm tied to this woman down to the soul, and playing by her rules when I'm starving for her is going to be absolute fucking torture.

CHAPTER 18

GOLDIE

Over the last week and a half, Sumner has systematically embedded himself into my routine.

He dropped off my favorite sparkling water at the studio between his flights before I could order more. He fixed the squeaky hinge on my front door without being asked. And twenty minutes ago, he knocked on my door with two reusable grocery bags full of food, found the drawer where I hide all my mismatched Tupperware on the very first try, and started organizing a week's worth of lunches in my fridge.

Without me having to ask or even think about it.

Who even is this man?