Page 48 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

JANNA

T hree days later, I was feeling almost human again. The hoarseness in my voice had faded to a sexy rasp that Dalton claimed he liked, and most of the soot had finally washed out of my hair. We were at the local watering hole where all the firefighters went to blow off steam.

It was the same place Cheryl had brought me. It was on the opposite side of town and had been untouched by the fire. It felt good. Like I belonged. I was one of the gang.

“So there I am,” Pickle was saying, gesturing wildly with his beer bottle as he continued his story of our harrowing ordeal.

I was doing my best to sit quietly and let him have his moment, but he was getting a little dramatic.

“I was face down in a pile of rubble, and this one comes flying through the smoke like some angel of death.”

“Angel of death?” I protested, nearly choking on my beer. “That’s the thanks I get for saving your ass?”

“Hey, I mean it in the best way possible.” Pickle grinned, then winced slightly as the movement pulled at the bandage on his forehead. “You were terrifying and beautiful at the same time.”

Laser, who was sitting closer to Pickle than I’d ever seen her sit to anyone, rolled her eyes. “You missed your calling as an author. Fiction flows from your tongue.”

Pickle clutched his chest in mock offense. “I’m the victim here! I have a traumatic brain injury!”

“You have a bump on your head,” Laser shot back, but her hand moved to his shoulder in a protective gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by me.

Interesting. Very interesting.

I had a feeling Laser had a change of heart about the big oaf after nearly losing him.

“Tell them about the horse,” I said to Dalton, who was sitting beside me with his arm draped over the back of my chair.

We weren’t hiding our relationship either. We were two couples enjoying cold beer, hot wings, and celebrating the fact we were all alive.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Dalton said, taking a long pull from his beer.

“Bullshit,” Laser said. “Chief told us you commandeered Martha’s horse and rode it through a fire zone like you’re some fucking cowboy.”

Dalton’s jaw tightened. “I needed transportation.”

“Transportation,” Pickle repeated, grinning. “The man turned into the Lone Ranger to save us.”

“I didn’t save anyone,” Dalton muttered.

“Oh, here we go,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “Mr. Modest strikes again.”

“I’m serious. You two got yourselves out. I just showed up at the end.”

“With oxygen,” I pointed out. “Which we desperately needed.”

“Anyone would have?—”

“If you say ‘anyone would have done it’ one more time, I’m going to throw this beer at you,” I threatened.

Laser laughed. “I love seeing him get put in his place.”

“It’s about time someone did it,” Pickle added, then looked at me with real emotion in his eyes.

“But seriously, Janna. What you did for me was impressive. I’ll never be able to repay you.

I’m sorry I was out through all of it. I do remember enough to know it happened, though. And just how heroic you were.”

“I’m amazed that plane got us off the ground,” I said.

“I’m glad I was out for that part,” Pickle said. “I don’t think I would have survived riding in that deathtrap.”

“It was either that or become crispy critters.” I shrugged. “Besides, it was kind of fun once I got the hang of it.”

“Fun,” Dalton repeated, shaking his head. “We were one breath from death.”

“We didn’t die,” I protested. “I had everything under control.”

“You were fading in and out of consciousness,” Dalton reminded me.

“I stayed awake long enough to get us on the ground,” I snapped.

Pickle held up his hands. “Okay, okay, before you two start making out again, can we please talk about something else? I’m still recovering from the trauma of witnessing that reunion.”

My cheeks heated. “We weren’t that bad.”

“You were worse,” Laser said dryly. “Chief looked like he wanted to hose you down.”

That was yesterday. We got busted after the debrief. To be fair, we had slipped into the hallway. We thought everyone had gone to work.

“Speaking of making out,” I said, changing the subject and looking pointedly at the way Laser’s hand was still resting on Pickle’s shoulder. “When did this happen?”

Yes, I was that girl. I was deflecting. I could embarrass them just like they were trying to do to us.

Although Dalton looked like the cat that got the canary.

He didn’t care. Yesterday when it happened, I wanted to melt into the floor but he had slapped my ass and said it was good that everyone knew.

He’d hate to break hands and heads if anyone tried to move in on me.

It did feel nice to be claimed.

Laser’s eyes widened. “What? This? There’s no this.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, not buying it for a second. “And I suppose you’ve been holding his hand all night for medical reasons?”

Pickle looked down at their intertwined fingers like he was just noticing them. “Oh. Yeah. That.”

“That?” Laser smacked his arm. “That’s all you have to say?”

“I mean, it’s not like we planned it,” Pickle said, but he was grinning. “It just sort of happened when I woke up in the hospital and she was there.”

“I was worried,” Laser said defensively. “He could have had a serious head injury.”

“I do have a serious head injury,” Pickle said solemnly. “I’m probably going to need round-the-clock care.”

“You’re an idiot,” Laser said, but she was smiling.

“Your idiot, apparently,” Pickle said, bringing her hand to his lips.

I felt my heart squeeze. “It’s about time, you two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laser asked.

“Please,” I said. “You’ve been dancing around each other for months, according to Dalton. It took almost losing Pickle for you to realize what you were missing out on.”

Laser’s expression softened. “Yeah, well. Life’s too short to waste time being scared.”

I glanced at Dalton, who was watching me with those whiskey-brown eyes of his.

“Damn right it is,” I said quietly.

“Okay, enough with the mushy stuff,” Pickle said, raising his bottle. “I propose a toast. To surviving another day, to friends who risk everything for each other, and to finally getting our heads out of our asses.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dalton said, clinking his bottle against mine.

“To not being idiots,” I added.

“To not being idiots,” they all echoed.

“So, Herc,” Pickle said. “Is Chief going to dock your pay after you crashed his plane?”

“Is he going to dock yours for crashing his helicopter?” Dalton shot back.

Pickle grinned. “Touche.”

I stuffed my face with all the appetizers I could get my hands on. Everything tasted amazing, even if my sense of smell was still a little off. Almost dying changed everything about me. I sipped my beer, ate my nachos, and listened to the three of them talk.

Laser needled Dalton about his hero complex and I had to agree.

“Alright, time for the important shit,” Laser said as she tapped her bottle against the table. “Janna’s earned a callsign. She’s not going anywhere and we can’t have her up there without a callsign. It’s bad luck.”

“That’s why we crashed,” Pickle said.

“Very funny,” I muttered.

But I was sitting up a little straighter.

Finally .

I had been waiting for a callsign since I showed up here. I wanted to be one of the cool kids.

In my head, I’d already picked it out. Night Witch. After the legendary Soviet pilots who’d flown biplanes in the dark, dropping bombs on Nazis with nothing but guts and gravity on their side. I’d flown through fire and smoke. If that didn’t earn me the name, nothing would.

And it was totally badass. Dalton knew the story. I didn’t know if Pickle and Laser did, but I would be happy to share it. I knew it was against tradition to come up with my own name, but I totally wanted to.

Instead, I sat quietly.

Laser grinned. “From now on, you’re Chopper. ”

I blinked. “ What? ”

“Because you went down in a helicopter,” she said, like it was obvious. “And now you’re swearing them off for good. It’s perfect.”

Dalton snorted into his beer.

“That’s not perfect,” I protested. “That’s lazy. ”

“Sorry, Chopper, ” Laser said, not sorry at all. “It’s official. I’ve decided.”

“Dalton, come on, you guys can do better than that,” I whined.

Dalton finished his beer. “You really hate the callsign that much?”

I sighed. “It’s not Night Witch. ”

“ Night Witch? ” He raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up.”

He laughed and kissed my cheek. “For what it’s worth, you will always be my night witch.”

I pouted. “I want to be the night witch.”

“But you’re such a cute Chopper,” Dalton said with a cocky grin.

“Chopper it is then,” I said, resigned to my fate. “At least it’s better than Crash.”

“Don’t give us ideas,” Pickle warned with a grin.

My phone buzzed against the table. And then everyone’s phones started going off.

That couldn’t be good.

“I’ll call,” Dalton said. He called Chief. “You’re on speaker with the whole gang.”

“Good. I just got off the phone with the incident commander in Arizona. They’ve got a monster brewing down there. Started this afternoon and it’s already jumped two containment lines. They’re requesting mutual aid.”

The table went quiet.

“How bad?” Dalton asked.

“Bad enough that they’re calling in resources from four states. Wind’s picking up, humidity’s dropping, and they’ve got structures threatened. They need experienced pilots who can handle the rough stuff.”

I felt my stomach tighten. The idea of climbing back into an aircraft and flying into another inferno so soon after our close call made my hands shake slightly. I hid them under the table.

“When do they need us?” Laser asked, though her voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.

“Tomorrow morning if we’re sending anyone. I’m not going to lie to you; I don’t want to. They specifically asked for pilots who can handle extreme conditions. I’ve asked them to get back with me tomorrow. We’ve still got hot spots here. I don’t want to spread ourselves too thin.”

Pickle rubbed his forehead where his bandage had been. “How long would we be gone?”

“Could be anywhere from a few days to a couple weeks, depending on how it develops.”

I could practically hear everyone’s internal debate. We were all thinking the same thing. We’d just survived hell, and now they wanted us to voluntarily walk back into it.

“I’ll go,” Dalton said quietly.

I turned to look at him, not surprised but feeling a familiar mix of pride and terror. Of course he would. Even after everything we’d been through, even after nearly losing me, he couldn’t help himself. He was hardwired to run toward danger when people needed help.

“Dalton,” I started, but he shook his head.

“They need experienced pilots. I’ve got the most hours in extreme conditions.” He looked around the table. “You guys just went through the shit. Nobody expects you to jump right back into another fire.”

“What about you?” Laser asked. “You went through the same hell we did.”

“I’m fine,” he said, which was such a Dalton response I almost laughed.

“You’re not fine,” I said.

“Which is exactly why I should go,” he said. “I can’t let fear dictate my decisions.”

“I know that look,” I said softly.

“People need help.”

“I’m not pressuring anyone, but if I had to send someone, he’d be my first choice,” Chief said. “He’s got the experience and the steady hands.”

“Say the word and I’m there,” Dalton said.

“I’m not giving the word just yet,” Chief said. “I just wanted you on standby.”

That was code for don’t get hammered.

“Understood,” Dalton said. “Let me know.”