“Well, your fans would love that, too, but that’s not what we agreed to. Maybe you can pitch that to Sawyer after the flight. He might be into it, so long as you don’t puke all over him.”
Fear gripped my chest. I was all about my image, constantly taking pictures of my supposedly perfect life. What a joke. If my followers could only see what I actually did on a day to day basis, they’d laugh at me. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Kelli, I even get carsick. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Sol, think of your followers. They will never know what it’s like to fly with a Blue Angel. They can live vicariously through you. Do it for them.”
She was trying to psych me up, but I still wasn’t convinced. I did everything for my followers. My entire life right now consisted of making decisions that were good for them.
“I just hope I don’t die from a brain aneurysm. I read about this one woman who died from one after a flight.”
“You’re so neurotic. You’ll be fine. Relax. Honestly, though, you don’t have a choice. Your follower count took a nosedive after last month’s disastrous collaboration. If you don’t shake things up, you’ll be yesterday’s news.”
“I get it.” I didn’t even want to think about how foolish I was to fall for last month’s scam, even though I hadn’t been the only influencer who’d been conned. This creeper had fooled Kelli and me. He’d hired a bunch of influencers to take pictures in bikinis for his swimwear line. Then, he started asking for nudes. Of course, I told him to go to hell, but only after I’d already posted the beach shots online, which, of course, he never paid me for. Turns out, he didn’t even own a swimsuit line—his accounts and website were all fake. I hated myself for believing he was legit. These days, I couldn’t trust anyone was who they said they were.
At least Sawyer was actually a Blue Angel, not some imposter trying to scam me, or even worse, harm me.
“Also, I noticed you have only posted once today. You really need to be posting four times a day. We talked about this, Sol, remember?”
Kelli was such a nag. I used to think she was a friend and that she really liked me, but we never hung out unless it was a work obligation. Frankly, I didn’t have any close friends—just collaborators. And I wasn’t sure why. After graduation, my friends dispersed, and we’d lost touch. Though I had over one million followers, I felt more alone than ever.
“I know, I’m on it.”
“Okay. That’s all. Call me if you have any questions.”
“Bye.”
I hung up the phone, and almost immediately pressure built up in my chest.
Breathe, Sol, breathe.
Speaking to Kelli jolted me into the reality of what I would do tomorrow.
I was going to be flying at the speed of sound.
As an influencer, pleasing people was my job. No one cared whether or not I was happy so long as I appeared to be happy. Back in college, I thought it would be so thrilling and glamorous to have a career in social media. Traveling all around the world with no set work schedule; being paid to take pictures and promote products.
But I never imagined how difficult it would be to be “on” all the time. I was definitely not a celebrity, but people still watched my every move. The pressure to be picture perfect was debilitating.
Nor did I realize how dangerous this job could be. I was way too trusting, something I learned the hard way after that creeper had targeted me last month.
And this latest assignment of flying with a daredevil pilot was the most insane gig of all. I’d seen the Blue Angels fly every year since I was a little girl. Those psychos flew their planes inches away from each other, tempting fate. There was no way I could handle that without freaking out. Once, when I took a gondola on a ski run in Lake Tahoe, I had a full-on panic attack. The scorching sun beat down on the hot fiberglass and sweat drenched my clothes. I could barely breathe, and I’d literally thought I would die. Definitely not my idea of a good time.
But this was my job. And, although I hated to admit it, Kelli was right. My engagement with my followers had recently gone down, especially since I’d wasted so much time and energy on that shady collaboration. At least I was back on track professionally, if not emotionally. These images with the Angels should do well, unlike my recent posts. Lately, there had been a backlash against perfect pictures. I guess you could only take so many pictures of lavender lattes and açaí bowls.
Speaking of pictures, time to find one of my pilot.
I entered “Sawyer Roberts Blue Angel” in a quick Google search. Immediately a picture popped up of a blond man in a tight blue flight suit.
I clicked on the picture to get a better view.
Whoa, he was gorgeous.
Eyes the hue of the ocean, sexy scruff on his strong jawline, and muscles that practically bulged out of his flight suit. Were those tattoos on his arms peeking out from the sleeves? He definitely didn’t look like the preppy pilot I’d imagined he’d be.
I clicked on his bio on the Blue Angels website.
Captain Sawyer Roberts is a native of Davenport, Iowa. He attended the United States Naval Academy and graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Aerospace Engineering.
Sawyer reported to NAS Fallon, Nevada, for the U.S. Navy Fighter Weapons School (TOPGUN).
Sawyer has flown more than seven hundred combat hours and supported numerous operations and exercises in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and Korea.
Sawyer joined the Blue Angels in September. He has accumulated more than three thousand flight hours and has twenty carrier-landings. His decorations include eight Strike Flight Air Medals, three Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medals, and various personal and unit awards.
TOPGUN? Like the movie Top Gun? This guy was like one of those fantasy heroes who only existed deep in the pages of my romance novels.
I searched the internet for some more intel. I couldn’t find any social media accounts under his name. Maybe his accounts were private or under a nickname?
But I scoured the search engines, and still couldn’t find anything. Nada. It didn’t make sense. I mean, he had to have a social media account—what kind of millennial didn’t?
I finally found a Blue Angels fan page. And the cover photo was a picture of Sawyer shirtless, drinking a beer on some dock.
Jesus, he had the best body. His chest was massive and covered in tattoos, his arms were ripped, and his abs were rock solid, revealing that perfect V. I closed my eyes and imagined those arms wrapped around my body, and my head nestled against his chest. I wanted to lick that man from head to toe.
I opened my eyes and scrolled down the page, thirsty for more.
Bingo.
Holy hell! I wiped the drool from my mouth.
His sexy blond hair skimmed his eyebrows, and his cornflower-blue eyes melted me. Physically, he was exactly my type—the kind of man I fantasized about every night. Though in reality, I had never dated a bad boy.
I was dying to see how he acted in person.
Well, I would soon find out. I was meeting this handsome blue devil tomorrow morning.
I took another deep breath—I needed to relax.
I walked into the kitchen of my Bay-view condo and filled my teakettle, placed it on the stove, and turned on the heat. As the water slowly boiled, I arranged some blush roses, freshly cut from my small garden, in a golden vase. They would make the perfect Instagram picture.
I paused.
That was the problem with me. Instead of taking the time to smell the roses, these days I waited until they had the perfect bloom so I could take an original picture. I didn’t care about their fragrant scent, the unexpected burst of joy I felt when gazing at them, or the overwhelming sense of calm that came over me when I gardened.
For now, my life was all about the picture.
The kettle whistled and jolted me from my introspection. I chose an orange ombré mug I’d bought last week at Home Goods from the cupboard. I hadn’t used this cup in a picture before. And
once I took a snapshot of my tea, I would probably never use it again.
I placed my loose-leaf chamomile tea in a sun-shaped silicone tea infuser. After I poured the boiling water into my mug, I put it on a tray with the vase of roses in the background.
I snapped a few pictures, edited the best one in my favorite photo app, applied my signature filter, and then posted to my Instagram.
Take a moment for yourself. Hope you all have a beau-tea-ful day!
I added a few emojis, and then copied and pasted my hashtags in the first comment.
#solanasanchez #marincounty #tea #ilovetea #tealovers #tealover #teatime #teacup #sausalito #teapot #teaaddict #teaparty #teas #teaofinstagram #teasofinstagram #teastagram #teastory #marin #marinite #sausalitocalifornia #californiagirl #afternoontea #teabreak #sausalitoliving #afternoonteatime #afternoonteaparty #chamomile #chamomiletea #looseleaftea
Thank god I had a list of tea hashtags already stored in my phone’s notes. I counted again—twenty-nine. I needed one more for the requisite thirty hashtags for maximum visibility.
I paused and looked at the picture. I wanted to hint to my followers what I was going to do tomorrow. So, I added another hashtag:
#onceinabluemoon
There. Posted. Only two more posts today to go.
I finally grabbed my mug and took a sip of my tea. The lukewarm liquid was bitter.
Served me right for caring more about the picture of my mug than the warmth or strength of my tea.
I took my tepid, over-brewed drink and sat on my balcony. The views of the picturesque houseboats and the Golden Gate Bridge filled me with joy. Normally, on the weekends the Blue Angels were in town, I would sit on my balcony and watch the whole show while sipping margaritas and eating guacamole.
But this time I was getting my wings.
Kill me now. I took another sip of tea and prayed the chamomile would calm my nerves. What if I puked on Sawyer tomorrow?
I was certain all the ladies he took up in his plane must swoon over this hunky pilot. A fly-along was the perfect gimmick to meet women.
But with his sexy looks and prestigious job, I was sure he didn’t need any tricks. A man that hot probably had a girlfriend anyway or was a complete player. Not that it mattered—he would only be in town for the weekend, and I wasn’t interested in having a fall fling.
I gazed out at the bay. It was so beautiful out here. I appreciated this simple moment and was grateful for the freedom my lifestyle afforded me. My parents sacrificed so much in order to send me to the best schools. Now, they spent most of their lives traveling, and I only saw them on vacations. I wished we could be closer. But we weren’t. And that was what I was missing in my life. That deep emotional connection. I had no one who was really there for me.
I finished my last drop of tea and said a silent prayer that I would have a safe flight tomorrow.
But as scared as I was, I couldn’t wait for morning to come.
Chapter 3
Sawyer
I arrived at the base bright and early, ready to accept my punishment. I definitely resented having to take this woman up in my plane.
It wasn’t that I was angry about promoting the Blue Angels. I was so proud of who I was and what we did. And I’d have been honored to take up someone who really made a difference in this country—a disabled veteran who fought for our country, a civilian who disarmed a crazed gunman, or a policeman who had risked his life in the line of duty. But not an influencer. I couldn’t stand the public’s obsession with these nobodies. People who were famous for doing nothing yet were worshipped by the mindless masses. I didn’t have Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter accounts. And I never would.
I saw Beck standing in the hangar with our buddy, Declan, the only other single pilot on the squad. But unfortunately for me, Declan was not a good wingman. He was an excellent pilot, no doubt, but he wasn’t into picking up random women, though he loved grabbing greasy burgers at dive bars with me. But it was fine that he didn’t like to party—I was happy to go solo.
Beck patted my back. “Glad you showed up.”
I smirked. “Didn’t have much of a choice, now did I? Where is she?”
“She’s not here yet.”
I turned to Declan. “I’ll trade you a beauty queen for a vet.”
Declan laughed. “Not a chance, Huck. Besides, the ladies love you.”
And that they did. “Fine, I’ll take one for the squad.”
Beck looked toward the parking lot and suddenly perked up. “And here she is now.”
I glanced where he was looking and saw a woman walking toward us.
Solana.
She waved, and I reluctantly waved back.
But when she came into focus, my mouth watered.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Damn, she was a complete knockout wearing a bright yellow sweater that hugged her incredible rack. Her shiny black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and I imagined how it would look tangled and wild after sex. Her bright red lips were plump and full, ripe for kissing, and her rocking body filled out her jeans. She had the perfect hourglass figure. Talk about a total bombshell.
She flashed me a big smile and beelined right over to me.
“Hi! You must be Captain Roberts—I’m Solana, but I go by Sol. I’m honored to be chosen to fly with you. I have a big Instagram following and a blog which I will post pictures of this flight on, but I mean, you probably know that. I mean, gosh, I’m such a dork, because you probably read about me in the profile my PR agent sent over. Or maybe you didn’t. I don’t know what I’m saying. Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m just really nervous and so excited to meet you.”
I laughed. She was adorable and surprisingly awkward for how beautiful she was. I needed to ease her nerves. I winked at her. “The pleasure is mine, Sol. You can call me Sawyer.”
She said hi to Declan, and then I introduced her to Beck. “Officer Daly, this is Solana Sanchez.”
“Nice to meet you, Solana. You’re in great hands. Huck is our best pilot.”
“Well, it’s nice to be reassured. I’m scared to death.” Then she looked up at me. “Huck? I thought your name was Sawyer.”
I pulled her closer and whispered into her ear, “Huck’s my call sign.”
“Got it. I’ve seen Top Gun. I know what a call sign was.”
I smirked—everyone thought TOPGUN was the ultimate goal for military pilots. I’d been in combat, graduated from TOPGUN, and it had all been a piece of cake compared to the feats I pulled off as an Angel.
A strong gust of wind blew at us, and she dropped her purse. As she bent down to retrieve it, I was graced with an incredible view.
Man, look at that ass.
Nope, Sawyer. Nope. Not this one. Do not hit on this woman.
She straightened back up and bit her nails.
I wanted to hug her and press her banging body against mine, but that was entirely out of the question. What was the proper greeting for a lady? A kiss on the cheek? A high five? Usually, I’d just say, “Let’s go back to my hotel.” Fuck. I’d lied to Beck. I had no idea how to be a gentleman. Just a jackass.
I took her hand and kissed it like a lovesick sap.
Beck and Declan stepped away and proceeded to laugh their asses off. Cocksuckers. I’d deal with them later.
Sol kept smiling at me, then pursing her lips and looking at her feet. I was used to sexually aggressive women wearing cheap perfume, not shy ones with bubbly smiles who smelled like juicy mangoes.
I stared into her beautiful whiskey-colored eyes, trying to think of something witty to say, but she spoke first.
“I have to admit I’m super scared. I’m not great with heights. Or speed. Or turns. Basically, I’m not good with any form of motion.”
I smiled wide and swallowed a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m all about the motion.”
A flush crept across her cheeks. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I must sound so stupid. I’m a wreck.”
She was nothing like I tho
ught she would be. Based on her pictures, I figured she’d be overly conceited and full of herself. But I didn’t get that vibe from her at all. She seemed shy, sweet, and dare I say—innocent.
I dug her.
“Well, don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe up there. All you have to do is trust me.”
I extended my hand to her, and she took it.
“Sounds good. I trust you.” She paused and then stared into my eyes. “This may sound silly, but I have a feeling that meeting you will be life-changing.”
Oh, one night with me will definitely change your life.
“Oh, it will be, sweetheart. You can count on that.”
Chapter 4
Sol
Holy hell, Sawyer was fine.
Those pictures I’d seen of him online didn’t do him justice.
Handsome was the understatement of the year. He had the best body I’d ever seen. I could see glimpses of tattoos on his muscular arms underneath his uniform. His eyes were mesmerizing, and I legit melted when he winked at me.
But unfortunately for me, I had already made an utter fool of myself in front of him.
I have to admit I’m super scared. I’m not great with heights. Or speed. Or turns. Basically, I’m not good with any form of motion.
I cringed—I was such a dork. I couldn’t believe I’d said that.
I started to bite my nails but quickly forced myself to stop because I didn’t want to ruin my manicure. There were a ton of other crew members around servicing the planes. One guy had a big checklist, another was doing something to the tires, and one was tinkering with an engine. Why had I agreed to do this again?
As if Sawyer could sense my nervousness, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I inhaled his scent—pure testosterone. I was doomed.
Blue Moon (Blue Devils Book 2) Page 2