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“Mind if I come up here with you?” I grip the edge of the door frame, looking through the windshield at the endless sky ahead. “I’ve got cookies.”
I lift the box and smirk.
“I don’t normally allow passengers in here while I’m flying,” she states.
“But you’re willing to make an exception to the rule?” My mouth edges up into a full-blown smile and I raise my brows hopefully.
“Something tells me you’re a very persistent man.”
“When I want something, yeah, I am.”
She rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the co-pilot’s seat.
“Alright,” I murmur, on the verge of pumping my fist like an excited kid as I step inside. Once I’m sitting, she motions to the seatbelt harness behind me.
“Put your harness on,” she orders in a no-nonsense voice.
“You got it.” I reach back and pull the straps over my shoulders, buckling myself in. Opening the box of sugary goodies, I offer her some. She hesitates, then reaches in and takes a cookie. I follow suit, popping apolvorosainto my mouth. “Mmm. Delicious.”
As I chew slowly, savoring the way the dessert melts in my mouth, I study the beauty beside me.
“What?” she murmurs, sounding uncomfortable.
“When you answered your phone earlier, you said Pyro. How come? Is that a codename or something?”
She looks over at me and my gut tightens as the sunlight hits her brown eyes, making them glow.Striking.They match her hair, taking on this amazing russet-colored hue. Her aviators are tucked in the neckline of her tank top beneath her bomber jacket, and I’m so glad. I’ve never seen such pretty eyes before and, for a moment, I feel…
I don’t know. Strangely off-balance.
I frown and drag my focus away from her and back out the windshield.
“It’s the nickname I wound up with in the Navy after, ah, an unfortunate incident in Kabul.”
Again, she captures my attention, and this time she’s grinning—finally—so I ease back into my seat, getting comfortable, ready to hear what I’m thinking is an amusing tale. “Do tell.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” she insists, and I laugh.
“Whenever anyone starts a story with ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ I have a funny feeling it might’ve been.”
She waves a hand through the air and shakes her head. “No one told me the containers held gasoline. I thought they were filled with water.”
Her smile and tone are infectious, and I find myself grinning back, leaning closer. “Okay, so what happened?”
She grimaces. “I may have accidentally set up some targets on top of the barrels and, well, my aim isn’t always perfect.”
I burst out laughing.
“One shot went too low and…” She makes an explosion gesture with her hands, “I blew up the landing strip. I was forever known as Pyro after that.”
“Classic. I love it.”
“I could’ve ended up with a way worse nickname, like some people I served with. How about you? Is Knox short for something?”
I shake my head. “Nope. My full name is Knox Remington Beckett, and what you see is what you get.”
I send her a smirk, and she lets out an unladylike snort.
“I’m sure,” she says, voice laced in sarcasm.