Page 13 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

DALTON

S he handled the controls like she’d been born in the cockpit.

Smooth, confident, no wasted movements. I’d seen seasoned pilots with less finesse.

Her hands were steady on the yoke, her posture relaxed but alert.

She didn’t overcorrect or second-guess herself.

If there had been a cupholder, I could see her with a fancy latte, some girly music and her singing along.

She flew like she was cruising in a convertible. I didn’t feel like she was overly cocky. I was cocky, but I was also pretty chill when I was in the cockpit because I knew what I was doing. She flew like I did.

I couldn’t tell if that impressed me or terrified me. Maybe a little bit of both.

I kept my mouth shut, watching her work.

I wanted more time to observe. She had that rare ability to read the plane, to feel it beneath her hands and know exactly what it needed.

I’d seen it before in a handful of pilots over the years, but never in someone so young.

She was a natural. Maybe I was a little jealous.

When I was her age, I was not quite so good.

I was cocky, but I didn’t have all the skills to back it up.

I did now but that was after years of flying.

She banked us into a gentle turn, following the heading Laser had given us.

She leveled us off smoothly. I almost smiled.

I wasn’t used to being the passenger princess.

When I did get stuck training or observing new pilots, I wasn’t quite so confident in their skills.

I never just sat back and appreciated the scenery.

But with her at the helm, it was easy to relax.

I didn’t feel like I needed to plan my jump from the backseat.

Not that I ever would, but I often had that internal debate with myself.

Would I rather go down in a fiery crash or jump and take my chances?

As if jumping was an option. But it was just one of those morbid thoughts that pilots had in the air.

“Not bad,” I said finally, breaking the silence.

“Thanks,” she replied.

It was rare for me to have no corrections to suggest, no notes to give. The last thing she needed was to get a big head. As good of a pilot as she was, things were different in a real fire. Overconfidence was a killer. I needed her to stay alert, which was why I was so quick to nitpick.

There would be something to mention eventually. I knew the route like the back of my hand. I had flown it hundreds of times. I knew how I did it and was surprised to see she basically mimicked my same patterns. And that was weird considering we had never actually flown together before.

I shuddered at the idea we were somehow connected. Like we were on the same wavelength. I didn’t believe in soulmates or shit like that but something about her was different. Could we have been lovers in a past life?

The second the thought crossed my mind, I inwardly groaned. That was probably one of the dumbest thoughts I had ever had. When the hell did I think about soulmates and past lives? The woman was fucking with my head.

“Veer ten degrees east,” I said into the comms.

“Copy,” she said.

She didn’t do it. I could see her smile in the reflection of the windows that surrounded us. I was glad she was enjoying herself. And her smile did make my dick twitch.

I leaned forward slightly. “Janna. Ten degrees. That ridge up ahead is closer than it looks.”

“Relax, I got it,” she said, adjusting by maybe five degrees at best.

And just like that, all those things I had been thinking vanished. There was the overconfidence I had been worried about.

I tried again. “We’re flying low in unfamiliar terrain, in a plane you’ve never operated in a live mission. Follow the damn instructions.”

She let out a breath, more amused than anything. “I am . You said ten degrees; I gave you eight. Compromise.”

“Compromise gets you dead,” I snapped.

That got her attention.

The grin faded, but not entirely. Her lips stayed tilted up like she was fighting a smirk. “You’re tense,” she said. “You always like this on flights?”

“No.”

“I bet you’re one of those nervous fliers,” she said, her voice full of laughter. “A white-knuckle guy.”

“I fly more than I fucking drive,” I snapped.

“You don’t ever fly as a passenger?” she asked.

“Not if I can help it.”

She snorted. “Actually, same. I’m not a fan of those Boeing 737s. Or anything similar.”

“I don’t like being a passenger. Never have. I’d rather be the one in control.”

She glanced at me over her shoulder, her smirk widening. “So, what you’re saying is, you’re a control freak?”

“I’m saying I don’t trust anyone else to keep me alive,” I shot back.

“Aw, Dalton,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not even a little,” I said.

She laughed, the sound light and carefree, like she didn’t have a worry in the world. It was infuriating. “Well, that’s too bad. Because you’re stuck with me for the next hour.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered.

She adjusted the controls slightly. “You know, if you relaxed a little, you might actually enjoy this. If we had a radio, I would let you pick the music.”

“I’m plenty relaxed,” I lied.

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not buying it. “You’re all tense and twitchy, just waiting for something to go wrong.”

“Because something could go wrong,” I pointed out.

“But it won’t,” she said confidently. “Because I’m an amazing pilot.”

I rolled my eyes. “Modest too.”

She grinned. “Modesty is overrated.”

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. She was impossible and way too sure of herself. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“You know if you keep frowning, your face is going to get stuck that way.”

“Good,” I said. “Then maybe people will stop bothering me.”

She laughed again. “You’re such a grump.”

“Pay attention,” I snapped.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re such a buzzkill. We’re soaring through the air with some of the prettiest landscapes around and you’re frowning. Lighten up, buttercup.”

Buttercup?

“It’s difficult when my pilot acts like she’s joyriding.”

“I’m just flying,” she said.

“If you want to survive a real wildfire, you’ll listen when I tell you something matters. Now, ten fucking degrees to the east.”

She didn’t respond, but she adjusted her flight path anyway.

We crested the next ridge, flying tight through a narrow canyon.

A gust threw us a little sideways. I could see the telltale gray clouds in the distance.

I had considered delaying the flight, but if she couldn’t handle a little rainstorm, she wasn’t going to cut it.

We hit a little more turbulence, telling me the storm was definitely coming our way.

“You good?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“You’re too close to the ridge,” I barked.

“We had clearance.”

“Not enough.”

“We were fine.”

“Turn us around. We’re heading back.”

“What?” she snapped. “Because I was a few feet closer than your comfort zone?”

“Because you ignored my instructions. This isn’t a game. You don’t win points for style.”

“Tell me what to do and let me do it .” Her sassy tone was gone. She was pissed. “Let me fly my way. I’m not a cookie-cutter version of you. We all have our own style. Flying is just like handwriting. I’m not you and there’s nothing wrong with being a little bold.”

“You think this is bold?” I said. “This is reckless. And if you can’t fly disciplined in a training run, how the hell are you gonna handle an inferno licking at your tail?”

She exaggerated sucking in a deep breath. I didn’t need the comms to hear it. “Fine. But stop treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Can you pretend for one second that I have more experience than you? That I’ve been in the shit, and I know what you need to watch out for?”

That quieted her. She didn’t speak for a few seconds. Just stared straight ahead, flying through crosswinds. There was no comeback.

Progress.

I leaned forward slightly. “Do it my way just one time. One run. After that, you can tell me to go fuck myself. Hell, you can file a complaint and tell Chief I’m the biggest asshole you’ve ever met for all I care. Let’s just pretend I actually know what I’m fucking doing.”

“Fine. One run.”

We looped back around. “We’re going to drop a smoke bomb. You need to know what it’s like to actually drop.”

“Okay,” she said.

I walked her through every step and to my surprise she actually listened. I was relieved and disappointed at the same time. I hated her sass and yet it turned me on. I was fucked up.

“Drop now,” I said.

The smoke canister plummeted directly over the target zone. A perfect mark.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. She knew she landed it.

“Don’t you dare say it,” she muttered.

I kept my mouth shut. But I smiled. Not a full-blown grin but I knew she could see it in the window.

She had listened to me and she nailed it.

I wanted to gloat. Tell her I knew what I was talking about.

Princess didn’t know everything there was to know.

This old dog still had a few tricks. I was happy to know I could teach her a few things.

In the air and in the sack.

Fuck .

Again. Why did my mind always go to sex when I thought about her? What the fuck was wrong with me? I needed to get laid. If I didn’t scratch the itch I was going to end up doing something really stupid. Maybe if I fucked her once, it would resolve the tension.

Yeah, right.

I had a feeling sex with Janna would be like trying to eat a single potato chip. One would not do. There would be a craving for more. And that would be bad. Even now she was distracting me. I couldn’t go through a whole season with a hard-on.

My thoughts were all over the place and I wasn’t really paying attention to anything. And then there was a flash. My head jerked toward the left where those gray clouds were looking just a little more ominous. Nothing major but clearly harboring some lightning.

CRACK .

The thunder cracked about four seconds after the flash.

Janna jolted. “Shit! Was that…?”

“Lightning,” I said. “We need to head back.”

Another flash.

The sky had turned fast. Where it had been blue and calm only minutes ago, clouds had stacked up out of nowhere. It was the classic mountain storm. It was quiet until it wasn’t.

I radioed base. “Tower, this is Spotter One. We’ve got lightning in the area. Request immediate landing clearance.”

Laser’s voice crackled back. “You’re clear. Runway’s yours. Fast but safe.”

“Copy.”

Janna was already adjusting course. Once again, I was impressed. She was acting like she’d encountered a detour in a construction zone. No big deal. Calm. Cool. Collected.

Another lightning strike lit the horizon to the east. Thunder followed fast.

“This came out of nowhere,” Janna muttered.

I kept my eyes on the clouds. “Mountain weather’s a bitch. Don’t blink.”