Page 11 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

DALTON

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face as I walked away from her door.

The look on her face was exactly what I’d been hoping for.

She’d been so damn cocky last night, sitting there with Laser, laughing like she owned the place.

Now she was paying for it. And I was going to make sure she paid even more.

Real fire pilots could fly even when they weren’t one hundred percent. It was a tough lesson all of us had to learn at some point. Today was her lucky day.

Laser and the princess had made quite the ruckus when they dragged their drunk asses home last night.

I hadn’t heard it, but others did. Everyone was talking about it because Laser was not the type to get that drunk.

She could hold her liquor. I had a feeling Wild Bill’s little show last night had been the catalyst for Laser’s overindulgence.

Princess seemed to have kept her company, which made me like her a bit more.

Laser was good people and she had needed a friend.

The new girl had stepped up and I respected that.

But I still wouldn’t go easy on her.

I headed toward the simulator room. The hangar with my S-2 was off to my left.

I caught a glimpse of Gilbert and Tyson working on it.

I knew Chief thought I owed the mechanics an apology, but it wasn’t going to happen.

I was pissed at Tyson for being an idiot and pissed at Gilbert for letting me take the damn thing in the air when it wasn’t ready.

He should have known better. He should have checked and doublechecked to make sure the hydraulics worked.

I stepped into the simulator room and started flipping switches, bringing the equipment to life.

The screens flickered on, displaying a digital landscape of mountains and forests.

I adjusted the controls, setting up a scenario that would test her limits.

If she thought yesterday was tough, she was in for a rude awakening.

It was fifteen minutes later when the door creaked open behind me.

I didn’t have to turn around to know it was her.

I could smell coffee and had to wipe away the smile on my lips.

I didn’t want her to know I thought it was funny she was miserable.

In fact, I was going to lay into her for getting wasted while she was technically on.

When I turned around, I shook my head at the sight of her. She looked like hell.

Eyes half-lidded. Hair pulled into some messy approximation of a ponytail.

Hoodie half-zipped and hanging off one shoulder.

Her skin had that dull, slightly gray tone that only came from too much alcohol and not enough water.

She was wearing a pair of leggings and tennis shoes.

She looked like she was heading to a yoga class.

The leggings showed off her shapely legs.

I wondered what she was wearing under that hoodie.

That gave me an idea. I could blast the heat and get her to take it off.

And that was absolutely unprofessional.

“How’s your head?” I asked, deadpan.

“Fine,” she croaked.

“If you throw up in the simulator, you clean it.”

“If I throw up in the simulator, I’ll make sure to aim in your direction.”

I smirked. Couldn’t help it. She was trying to act tough but she was a mess. I had been there and done that.

“Have a little too much to drink?” I asked.

“Not at all. I had just enough.”

I bit back a laugh. Feisty until the very end.

“Alright, Princess, climb in.”

“Got a cupholder in that cockpit?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Are you always going to call me Princess?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Great.”

She took a long drink from her cup and then put it on a small table in the corner. I watched as she walked back across the room, shoulders back and chin up. She was dying but doing her best to pretend she was fine.

“Let’s do this,” she said after getting situated in the cockpit. “Do your best to kill me.”

I ignored the comment. “Alright,” I said, tapping on the tablet to load the first run.

“Scenario one: low-visibility mountain navigation. You’ll fly out of base, follow the canyon corridor, find the lead plane, and mark the drop zone with a smoke bomb.

Spotter’s directing from the back. That’s me. Let’s see if you can keep us alive.”

“Challenge accepted,” she muttered.

Chief hired her to be part of the “air attack” group but shit happened and it was important that we could all do everyone’s jobs. I didn’t see her taking my job, but I wanted her to be ready to handle all of it.

I started the simulation and stepped back.

The screens darkened and it was just like being in the cockpit.

Her job as one of the air attack coordinators meant she was the eyes and ears for the whole operation.

She’d be surveying all the little details of fire behavior and the lines.

Between her and the person that would be with her, they’d tell me where to drop the water.

They’d be dropping the smoke bombs. It was a big job, which was why I was making damn sure she knew what the hell she was doing.

If she couldn’t do it, I would not hesitate to tell Chief to pull her. Put her in another job.

The simulated sound of the plane’s engines filled the room. The radio crackled from ground control and she held on to the yoke like she was out for a Sunday drive. The run was damn near flawless.

She skimmed through the artificial canyon without jerking or getting that claustrophobic feeling that so many people did.

There weren’t any last-minute corrections.

She didn’t even clip the ridgeline I’d intentionally rendered trickier than necessary.

She kept her altitude low but smooth, handled sudden wind shear like it was nothing, and spotted the lead plane without needing a second prompt.

Smoke bomb deployed. Bullseye on the drop zone.

Perfect.

I didn’t say anything. It could be beginner’s luck. Or just luck in general.

“Scenario two,” I said and quickly used the tablet to pull up the next simulation I had put together.

I had run it myself a few times. “Fire’s jumped the ridge.

Winds shifted. You’re coming in hot and blind.

No visual on the lead plane until the last second.

I’ll give verbal instructions only. No screen prompts. ”

“Copy that,” she mumbled. She didn’t even look at me. The woman was focused. I had seen pilots under the influence of a hangover. Usually they were slow to react. But not her. She looked like a different person than the woman who walked in there, calm and cool.

The simulation started and even I jerked and winced a couple of times at some close calls. She flew the simulation pretty well. It wasn’t perfect, but damn close. I tried to rattle her but she was cool as a cucumber.

I didn’t know whether to be impressed or pissed off that she’d improved so fast. She didn’t make the same mistake twice. She learned quickly and that was not something that could be trained. That was rare. She had natural-born instinct.

Janna had what it took to be a damn good pilot. If I wasn’t such a cocky bastard, I would admit she might even be better than me.

All she needed was focus. She was young and wasn’t used to the setup we had here. I was guessing she had lived a pretty sheltered life in Alaska.

“Alright,” I said and turned off the simulator. The screens all went blue. I walked over and flipped on the lights.

She blinked, squinting up at me. “What? Did I crash and not notice?”

“You’re done for today.”

“Seriously?”

I nodded. “You showed me what I needed to see. Go eat something greasy before you pass out in that chair.”

She sagged with relief. “Thank god.”

She stood up a little too fast. I caught her elbow reflexively, steadying her.

She looked up at me and once again I felt that same tension from yesterday. That invisible pull that made it feel like she was running her hands over my naked body.

“Go,” I said, dropping my hand and stepping back. “Before I change my mind.”

She gave me a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

I watched her pick up her coffee.

“Princess?”

She sighed and turned to look at me. “Really? Princess? Laser is Laser and Pickle’s name is even cool. And Wild Bill. And I have to be Princess?”

I hadn’t meant to dub her Princess. It was just… well, she reminded me of a princess. All pretty and dainty and put together.

Instead of explaining the name, I ignored her comment. “Last night was your one chance to fuck up. Don’t do it again. You can’t afford to be hungover. When it’s the active fire season, we don’t drink. Period. You never know when you’re going to get called out.”

“You drank,” she shot back.

“I had a couple beers. Judging by the way you smell, you drowned yourself in whiskey.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re so rude!”

“You stink like stale whiskey. That’s not rude, that’s honest. Go eat. Shower and sleep. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

“You’re such a jerk.” She stomped out of the room.

Yes, I was, but she needed a reality check. I shut off the lights and left the room. My keys, wallet, and phone were in my pocket. That was all I needed. I pulled on my sunglasses and walked to the employee parking lot, then climbed in my F-250 and headed for home.

I had the next few days off. I was one of the few that actually lived in the area. I didn’t mind staying in the dorms when I was on duty, but if I was off for a few days or on the two-week cycle, I went home. I liked the solitude. I needed it.

I got home and made myself a late breakfast or early lunch while I listened to my favorite playlist. It was a combination of country, rock, and folk. Luke Bryan’s “One Margarita” drifted through my Bluetooth speaker on the wall. I preferred music over TV. There just wasn’t shit on TV these days.

I opened the back door and stepped out onto my deck. Contentment and calm washed over me as I stared out over the gorge. I inhaled the scent of nature and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

I walked back inside and grabbed my sketchpad and colored pencils.

I sat in my chair, feet propped up on the railing, and started to sketch.

Sketching was how I processed. How I avoided drinking more than I should.

It kept me from losing my shit. I would never sell my drawings in a gallery and most of it was never seen by anyone else. It was just for me.

My eyes gazed out over the gorge and then back to the paper. It was funny, because when I was sketching, I wasn’t really seeing anything. It was like my hands moved on their own, guided subconsciously.

At some point I looked at the page, expecting to see the usual mountain range and trees, but that’s not what I saw.

It was a silhouette of a woman.

Janna.

I stared at the page. At her.

“Shit. No. Fuck that.”

I reached for the eraser and started to rub at the page as if I could scrub away her face.

It couldn’t happen. She was a teammate. One of us .

Not some layover fling or lonely stewardess who knew the score.

Janna was part of the mission. Part of the team I needed to trust and who needed to trust me.

Getting involved would be selfish and stupid.

Dangerous. For her and for me.

Allowing myself to get distracted could get people killed . I clenched my jaw and kept erasing until the paper tore. I had to stay away.

I would tell Laser to take over her training. I had to keep my distance and let this thing between us cool off before it ever got a chance to burn. There was no ignoring the tension. Not for me at least. I hated feeling out of control.

My phone buzzed on the table beside me. I was going to ignore it, but when I glanced at the screen I saw it was Chief. My eyes went out to the horizon in search of smoke. I didn’t see anything.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Hey, Herc, we’ve got a man down. Tucker twisted his damn knee loading gear this morning. He’s out for at least a week.”

“I told him he needed to stretch before work.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to need you back tomorrow. You’ll be flying with Janna.”

I stood up. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, Dalton. This isn’t a debate. You’ll be taking her on her first real flight here.”

I closed my eyes. He didn’t understand why it was such a bad idea. If he did, he would not be asking me to do this.

I gritted my teeth. “Fine.”

“See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I said and ended the call.

Shit.