Page 37 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

DALTON

“ I ’m not in the mood.”

Pickle handed me a cold soda. “You’re in a shit mood.”

“Exactly.” I cracked open the soda and took a long drink, hoping the caffeine would help clear my head. It didn’t. Nothing was going to clear the image of Janna’s face when I told her I regretted everything. The hurt in her eyes, the way she’d gone completely still before the anger kicked in.

“So what happened?” Pickle asked, settling into the chair across from me. “And don’t tell me nothing. You look like someone ran over your dog. Or I suppose your cat would be more appropriate.”

“I don’t have a fucking cat.”

“Sure. So, now that you’ve got that out of the way, what the hell happened? You got Laser pissed at me.”

“I didn’t do shit to Laser.”

“It’s a girls versus boys thing. I’m a boy. And that somehow makes me the enemy. So, thanks for that. What the hell did you do?”

I stared at the can in my hands. I felt ridiculous with a little hindsight. I had completely overreacted but we had just talked about my boundaries. “She wanted to bring a toothbrush over.”

Pickle blinked. “A what now?”

“A toothbrush. She made some comment about bringing one so she could brush her teeth in the morning, and I lost my shit.”

“You lost your shit over a toothbrush?”

“It’s not about the toothbrush,” I snapped. “It’s about what it means. First it’s a toothbrush, then it’s clothes, then she’s moving in, then?—”

“Then what? You might actually be happy for five minutes?” Pickle shook his head. “Jesus, Dalton. You’re fucked up, even for you.”

I stood up and started pacing. “You don’t get it. I can’t do this shit. I can’t let someone get close.”

“That’s so stupid.”

I frowned at him. “No. Not considering what we do. I told her from the beginning I couldn’t do serious.”

“A toothbrush isn’t serious, jackass. It’s practical. The girl’s got morning breath, she wants to fix it. That’s called basic hygiene, not a marriage proposal.”

I stopped pacing and glared at him. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see the way she looked at me. Like we were playing house or something.”

“And that terrified you.”

“Damn right it did.”

“You know what your problem is?”

“People who won’t leave me alone?”

“You’re so busy protecting yourself from getting hurt that you’re guaranteeing you’ll end up alone. You’re creating exactly what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of being alone. I prefer it.”

“Bullshit.” He stood up. “You’re scared shitless of caring about someone for real.

But here’s the thing. You already care about her.

You cared about her enough to beat the hell out of those guys the other day.

You cared about her enough to tell her about Ozzy.

You cared about her enough to let her sleep in your bed without trying to fuck her. ”

I clenched my jaw. “So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything, and you know it. You’re just too chickenshit to admit it.”

“Watch it, Pickle.”

“Or what? You’ll punch me too? Go ahead.

Add me to your list of people you’ve pushed away.

But before you do, let me tell you something.

That girl is the best thing that’s happened to you since I’ve known you.

And you just threw it away over a fucking toothbrush.

And I do not appreciate you screwing up what I’m trying to get going with Laser.

Quit being a dick. You’re making all of us look bad. ”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you’ve been walking around here like you actually give a shit about something other than flying for the first time in years. I know you’ve been smiling more. Hell, you even laughed at Gilbert’s stupid joke yesterday. When’s the last time you did that?”

I turned away from him, but he wasn’t done.

“And I know that right now, you’re miserable. More miserable than you’ve been in a long time. So tell me, how’s that working out for you? This whole ‘keep everyone at arm’s length’ strategy?”

“It’s working fine,” I lied.

“Right. That’s why you’re standing here looking like someone ripped your heart out and stomped on it.”

I whirled around to face him. “I don’t have a heart to rip out. That’s the whole fucking point.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” He shook his head and left me alone.

I went back to work. While I was doing my best to be pissed, Max showed up. It wouldn’t leave me alone.

I stared at the cat and sighed. “Fine. I’ll take you home. You tear up my couch, shit in my shoe, or fuck up my blinds, I’m tossing your ass out.”

I didn’t know how in the hell to take care of a cat, but once the season really kicked off, the place was going to be wild. I didn’t want it to get run over or ignored.

I scooped him into my arms and carried him to my truck. There was a pet store in town where I would go find supplies.

Nearly two hundred dollars later, I had everything the employee told me I needed for a cat.

“You’re an expensive houseguest,” I muttered.

I carried Max into the cabin and watched him immediately start exploring every corner like he owned the place.

“You hike your leg and you’re done,” I warned.

I unpacked all the supplies I’d bought: food bowls, litter box, scratching post, toys, bed, enough cat food to feed a small army.

“Alright, buddy,” I said, filling the food bowl. “This is your new setup. Don’t make me regret this.”

Max ignored me completely, too busy investigating the space under my couch. I set up the litter box in the bathroom and put his bed near the window where the afternoon sun streamed in. The scratching post went in the corner, though I had a feeling my furniture was still doomed.

When I finished arranging everything, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out to the porch. It was the kind of view that usually helped clear my head, but tonight it just made me think about how Janna had looked at it yesterday morning.

I took a long pull from my beer and settled into the wooden chair.

Max padded out onto the porch and hopped into my lap.

At first, I just sat there. It felt so strange.

But Max seemed to understand he had been adopted and that was that.

His purr was loud and echoed around the area.

I was used to silence. The irony wasn’t lost on me—I’d just adopted a cat while pushing away the one person who actually mattered to me.

“You think I’m an idiot too, don’t you?” I asked him, scratching behind his ears.

He just purred louder, like he was agreeing with me. I took another swig of beer and stared out at the sky. Janna was probably telling Cheryl what a complete asshole I was. She wouldn’t be wrong.

The thing was, I knew exactly what I was doing when I blew up at her this morning. I’d been looking for an excuse, waiting for her to give me a reason to push her away. And she handed it to me on a silver platter with that innocent comment about a fucking toothbrush.

But sitting here now, with nothing but the mountain air and my own twisted thoughts for company, I couldn’t shake the look on her face when I told her I regretted everything.

It wasn’t true and I think part of her knew that. Two nights of me holding her said otherwise. I couldn’t say one thing and do another. I couldn’t hold her and make her feel like my queen and then push her away the next second.

I’d wanted to hurt her. I’d wanted to make sure she walked away and never looked back. Mission accomplished.

So why did I feel like I’d just blown up my own life?

I finished the beer and went inside for another one, Max trailing behind me like a furry shadow.

I grabbed two beers because I had a feeling Max wouldn’t appreciate me getting up and down.

As soon as I sat down, the cat was right back in my lap.

Why in the hell did I care if the cat was comfortable?

“You know what the fucked-up part is?” I said to him. “Yeah, I know. I’m an idiot.” I scratched his head absently. “But what if I let her in and something happens to me? What if I don’t make it back from a fire someday? What if?—”

But even as I said it, I knew how hollow it sounded. Ozzy’s death had fucked me up, sure, but this wasn’t really about protecting Janna from losing me. This was about protecting myself from losing her.

You’re broken, I told myself, voice raw. Dust and ash, broken.

I downed the second beer and reached for the other one. I thought about sliding into hermit mode. I was looking forward to the end of the season when I could hole up at the cabin. I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing anyone or hurting anyone.

No attachments. No heartbreak. No anything.

Then I considered going after her. Apologize. Tell her the truth. I want you. I’m terrified. But I’d be more terrified without you.

But the risk had me rethinking that plan. What if she said no?

My thoughts twisted and turned. I ran through every possible scenario.

If we got together and then she went back to Alaska at the end of the season.

We got together and something happened to her or me and one of us was left grieving.

We got together and broke up and I was left alone even after trying.

Or we never got together, and I had to look at her every day and know I couldn’t have her.

I fell asleep in the chair and woke to the sound of my phone ringing. It was way too early for a typical phone call. I was instantly on alert, pushing Max out of my lap.

“Dalton here,” I said.

“Gorge fire spread,” Chief said. “Wind changed—two flank fires heading toward town. Want you on Tanker One. We launch in twenty.”

Just like that, clarity cut through the fog.

“This is your chance,” I warned Max. “Do not fuck up or I will put you out.”

I grabbed my keys and headed to the airfield. I had a go bag in my truck. I fumbled around and grabbed my deodorant and put it on. I reached for the mouthwash, took a swig, swished it around, and spit it out the window.

If it was as bad as it sounded, a shower was a luxury I couldn’t afford.