Blue Moon
Alana Albertson
Copyright © 2019 by Alana Albertson
Cover design: Aria Tan of Resplendent Media
Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Kaz Van Der Waard
Bolero Books, LLC
11956 Bernardo Plaza Dr. #510
San Diego, CA 92128
www.bolerobooks.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
I’d like to dedicate this book to my hometown, Marin County, California.
The faults of a superior person are like the sun and moon. They have their faults, and everyone sees them; they change and everyone looks up to them.
Confucius
Contents
Blue Moon
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Chapter 1 Blue Sky
Also by Alana Albertson
Acknowledgments
About Alana
Blue Moon
One night with this Blue Devil will make you a sinner
Once a year, the Blue Angels perform for Fleet Week in my hometown of San Francisco. They fly over the Golden Gate Bridge wowing the crowds with daring sky stunts and fabulous formations.
Normally, I would just spend the day sunbathing on my rooftop deck. But this time, I’m getting my wings.
As a key influencer, I’ve been chosen to fly with a Blue Angel.
My heart leaps out of my chest when I meet Sawyer “Huck” Roberts, and it isn’t from the G-Force.
This Blue Devil has a girl in every city. Once he finds out I’m a virgin, he refuses to be my one-flight stand. Even so, I’m determined to change his mind.
When he asks me to come with him during his air show tour, I say yes, yes, and oh, yes.
We have nothing in common but cosmic chemistry. I am the sun, and he is the moon. And while the moon chases the sun, they can never be happy together as they’re destined to collide only in a total eclipse of the heart.
Chapter 1
Sawyer
“Sawyer, get your ass in here.”
I stumbled into the office, my head still pounding from last night’s liquor binge. We’d had one of our rare nights off from our insanely packed air show schedule. I’d planned to spend the day sleeping in late at my luxurious hotel suite, golfing at the Presidio, and feasting on dim sum in Chinatown. Hell, maybe I’d even sample all the different types of chocolate down at Ghirardelli Square. Better yet, I’d taste a local woman. But instead, I’d been summoned to base.
I removed my sunglasses and could see my commanding officer Lt. Beckett Daly glaring at me. Puzzled, I stared at his scrunched brow and flared nostrils. Fuck, he was about to hand me my ass, and I didn’t have a clue why.
After all, I was the best pilot in the Marine Corps.
But my skills in the air didn’t matter. Apparently, I’d royally fucked something up down here on the ground. Again. Maybe one of the chicks I’d hooked up with during our last stop was an admiral’s daughter.
Beck just stared at me. Clearly, he wanted me to confess to a crime, but since I didn’t know what I’d done, I deflected.
“What’s up, man? Congratulations on your engagement again. Tell you what—I’ll do your reports today. Go pamper your fiancée.”
Beck scowled. “I wish I could, but instead of spoiling her all day, the brass called me at zero six hundred and gave me orders to come in and deal with your shenanigans. Do you mind explaining what this is?”
He thrust his phone at me and showed me a news article. A local television station had mapped out my flight path during practice yesterday.
A flight path in the shape of a dick, complete with balls. A rather large set, I might add.
I laughed it off. “What’s the problem? Fucking liberal press. We’re pilots—we’re supposed to be cocky. Haven’t they seen Top Gun?”
A vein in Beck’s neck bulged, and I was almost certain it would pop.
“Are you high? We’re Blue Angels—our job is to recruit and do public relations for the Navy and your beloved Marine Corps. Your stunt was offensive and disrespectful. The command is opening an investigation.”
“Fine. Investigate. I’m guilty. It’s not like they’ll replace me. I’m the only Marine on the squadron. You Navy men are too sensitive.” I was a motherfucking Marine. Although technically, the Marines were a Department of the Navy, which we jarheads liked to call “the men’s department.”
“You’re an excellent pilot Sawyer, but you’re also a world-class asshole. Do you honestly think women want to look up into the sky and see a giant penis? Especially in this day and age of unsolicited dick pics and toxic masculinity? Can you even see why this is wrong?”
Fuck Beck and his politically correct bullshit. I had better things to do today than listen to him rattle on and on. The only way to get him to shut up would be for me to apologize.
“I’m sorry. What’s my punishment?”
Beck tossed me the Key Influencer roster. “You know what you have to do.”
Fuck no. Anything but that. “If that’s what you want, you can forget it. I’m not taking another one of those vapid, fame-hungry media types up in my plane. I’ll write your admin reports for a month, no questions asked. I’ll clean your jet and gear. But I won’t do that.”
The Blue Angels regularly allowed news anchors, local celebrities, and other narcissists to fly around with us on media day. The other pilots didn’t mind doing it so I would trade them duties. Media day was a complete nightmare. The last reporter I took up puked all over me when I did a simple inverting trick. And the woman I took before her screamed in my ear the entire trip.
I had to stifle a grin when I thought about her shrieks. “Slow down! Stop! Are you trying to kill me? You’re going too fast!”
What could I say? I had the need for speed.
My plane was my temple—there was no room for a wingman.
“I’m not asking you, Sawyer; I’m giving you a direct order.” Beck shoved a piece of paper in front of me with a picture attached of a pretty woman with long black hair. She had a dazzling smile and wore a formal ballgown with a shiny sash that read Miss Marin County.
Great. A fucking beauty queen. Sure, she was attractive, but beautiful like a museum piece—looked nice from a distance but too fragile to touch. Definitely not my type. Ladies with proper manners and good upbringings held no appeal for me. I liked my women like I liked my planes—fast, dangerous, and ready to take off and go down on cue.
“Fuck no, Beck. A pageant girl? I’d rather take some old veteran who wants to relive his glory days. Who else you got?”
“We had a veteran
on the list, but Declan already claimed him. And I’m taking up the reporter. You don’t have a choice. And she’s not just a pageant girl, she’s an influencer with a huge social media presence. She’s documenting a photo series on the Blue Angels. It’s one flight, Sawyer. Surely you can be a gentleman for an hour. Then, you can go back to being a jerk.”
Man, Beck really hated my guts. He was probably just jealous of my lifestyle. Beck was a family man and his idea of a hot date night was singing nursery rhymes to his baby daughter.
Christ. I was not going to be able to get out of taking this girl up. What the fuck is an influencer anyway? Sounds like another word for lazy millennial. “What does she do for a living?”
“She has a blog and an Instagram account.”
I rolled my eyes. “So basically, she doesn’t work. And we’re feeding into her ego. What’s she going to post about us?”
“She pitched it as, ‘Her Ride with a Blue Angel.’”
I licked my lips, glanced at the picture, and imagined her naked. Well, I could take her for a ride, but not in my plane. Some things were sacred.
“I refuse.”
Beck glared at me.
“Then you’re grounded until next week’s show. We’ll fly without your cocky ass.”
“You can’t be serious. You will fuck up the diamond formation.”
“Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you embarrassing us again at the after-show party.”
Fuck. He had me. I may love to throw down on my days off, but I loved my job. I lived to fly. Being up in my plane was the best high ever.
I threw my hands up in the air. Time to wave the white flag. “Fine, Dad. What do I have to do?”
Beck gave me a smug smile. I wanted to deck the arrogant motherfucker, but he was the flight leader, and there was no use fighting with him. His word was law.
“Easy. You show up tomorrow morning, train her how to breathe during the flight, and then take her up in your plane. Be on your best behavior.” He pointed his finger at me. “Which means you need to be polite, gracious, and respectful. She’s very media savvy and supposedly will get many eyes on the Blue Angels. We need good publicity, especially after your fucking stunt. There are already protests planned for this weekend. And wear your goddamn uniform when you show up on base to meet her—not your bomber jacket and aviators. You aren’t the star of Top Gun 2. And you can’t hit on her under any circumstances.”
Did this motherfucker really think I was that much of a jerk? “Christ, Beck, I’m not that much of a Neanderthal. I can speak to a woman without propositioning her; it is possible.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Maybe if you end up liking her, you can invite her to the gala tomorrow night. She looks like a sweet young lady. It would be good for you to spend some time with a woman you didn’t meet at a bar. Someone you don’t have to pay by the hour. Someone who isn’t a Blue Angel groupie.”
I smirked. I liked my groupies. I had a girl waiting for me in every city, though I hadn’t decided yet who my San Francisco sweetie would be—last year’s model or a new ride. Or maybe both—possibly at the same time. The more, the merrier. “Thanks, bro, but I don’t need your dating advice. I have zero interest in meeting a nice girl and settling down. That’s your whole thing and why you’re engaged. You’re a serial monogamist, Beck. I’m happy for you and Paloma, but that life isn’t for me. I have no desire to have a wife and kids. Ever. I want to live my life and explore the world, no strings attached. But don’t you worry, I’ll show this girl a good time after the flight. A boring time, but a safe, PC date. Maybe I’ll take her mini-golfing, and then we can cap the night off with a hot fudge sundae at Ghirardelli. No nuts. I don’t want to scandalize her.”
Beck shook his head. “You’re a piece of work. A total adrenaline junkie always seeking that next high. Remember this: stable isn’t boring, it’s beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow for the media flights. You’re dismissed. Now get the fuck out of here.”
I grabbed the photo of my beauty queen and left the building.
Once outside the hangar, I inhaled a deep breath of the fresh Bay Area air. The weather was brisk and sunny, and there wasn’t a single cloud on the horizon. I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of this day and be thankful for my life. A pilot for the Blue Angels. A rock star of the sky. A United States Marine. I wasn’t about to let one stupid flight path dick stunt ruin it.
For a poor boy who grew up deep in the Midwest, it always astounded me I’d achieved my dreams.
Pretty good for a kid whose mother said he would never amount to anything. Not that she had a clue about what I had done with my life. If she could see me now, maybe she would feel guilty for how she’d treated me.
How she let all her men treat me. How they—
I closed my eyes and didn’t allow my mind to finish that thought. I forced myself to live in the present and shut out my past. Why should I waste time thinking about my mother—I doubt she ever thought about me.
I opened my eyes. I needed something to distract me.
I sat on a bench in the sunlight and stared at the picture on the paper.
Solana Sanchez.
All her relevant information—name, date of birth, phone number, address—was printed on top like a résumé. Solana had recently graduated from Stanford University where she’d majored in psychology and minored in communications. In her free time, she enjoyed taking photos of sunsets and teaching English to recent immigrants.
She sounded like a saint.
But I was only interested in sinners.
I grabbed my phone from my pocket and perused her blog.
Solana Sanchez
Influencer.
Always looking for the sunshine in the darkness.
DM me for collaborations.
I paused over the words “in the darkness.” What did this ray of sunshine know about darkness? By scrolling through her Instagram feed on the top of her website, I highly doubted this pampered princess had ever struggled in her life. Selfies in exotic locales and pictures of indulgent dishes and drinks were all she ever seemed to post.
And now she’d use the Blue Angels as another photo opportunity. Riding on our glory and hard work while promoting herself. She couldn’t possibly fathom how much I’d sacrificed and overcome to become an Angel.
I should make this hard on her. Do extra flips until she passes out, get her so sick that she pukes all over herself in front of the cameras. That would be hilarious.
Fuck, that’s cruel. Maybe, Beck is right—I am a dick.
I took a moment and shook off that thought. Nope—not going to humiliate her. That would piss Beck off, and I had no doubt he’d make work hell for me indefinitely if I didn’t get back into his good graces. I had to do what he wanted. It was only for an hour, so I just needed to man up and deal with it.
And then I could forget about this sunbeam and go back to planning my wild weekend in the Golden City.
Chapter 2
Solana
My phone lit up. Thank God! I’d been waiting for this call from my PR agent all day. And what a boring day it had been—I had practiced yoga, spent an hour making the perfect avocado toast garnished with watermelon radishes and microgreens for a flat lay, and then shopped online from some cute dresses in my brand colors of pink, turquoise, yellow.
“Kelli—did I get it?”
“Yup! The Navy confirmed minutes ago. You’ve been chosen as a Key Influencer! Congrats, Sol!”
I squealed like a tween at a boy band concert. “Oh my god! Yay me! This is going to be epic. I can’t believe I’m going to fly with a Blue Angel.”
“I know, right? This is huge. Your followers will freak. I’m working on your hashtag strategy right now. We’ve committed to four posts, a story, and a live video of you in the plane during the flight. I just hope you don’t get sick up there.”
A lump formed in my throat. I was already queasy despite still being on solid ground. I didn’t like flying when I was in a
normal plane, let alone a supersonic jet.
“Ugh. I’m sure I will. What if I puke all over him? I’d die of embarrassment.”
“Yeah, that would be humiliating, especially since he’s so hot.”
My hands shook. “He is? You’ve seen a picture of him?”
“Yeah, his information is on their website. He’s gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, a sexy smile, and a killer body.”
Great. Why did he have to be gorgeous? I’d be so distracted and probably start babbling like a moron—I always did that around super-hot men. Perhaps one of the many reasons I was still a virgin.
“What’s his name?”
“Sawyer Roberts.”
Sawyer Roberts, United State Blue Angel Pilot. I’d cyberstalk him the second I ended this call.
“Got it. So, what’s the plan?”
“You’ll drive to the base tomorrow morning. I’ll email you directions. Please arrive before seven. You’ll be briefed on the flight, take a few photos, and then begin your ride. The flight will last forty-five minutes. Once it’s over, you’ll leave the base. Any questions?”
That didn’t sound so bad. Just a short, simple gig. Ha, who was I kidding? I was scared to death.
I exhaled. “No. But I’m petrified. I wish there were a way I could meet the Blue Angels, take pictures, and not have to ride in the plane. More of a lifestyle piece. Wouldn’t that be better?”
Blue Moon (Blue Devils Book 2) Page 1