My dad shakes his head. “No, I’m going to get you a toaster oven. We’ll go shopping after this. My boo bear won’t be staying in a place where she can’t bake her favorite Pillsbury chocolate chip cookies.
I swear, my dad still thinks I’m in sixth grade.
“That’s not necessary, Dad, but thank you.”
“No, we’re going shopping. It’s the least I can do since you won’t let me pay for your place out here.”
I sigh and start to blow up my air mattress. I took a Jeep full of my belongings and left the rest in my parents’ basement. It will be meager dwellings at first, but I’m bound and determined to make a change in my life. And right now? That means a new job, new city, new apartment, and new everything else. Look at me. I’m adulting.
There has to be some kind of change, because the way I feel about myself hasn’t been exactly spectacular. I’m hoping this fresh start will be exactly what I need.
“Dad. You helped with my rent in Colorado, but I really want to do this on my own here.” For many reasons, but one of them to prove my mom wrong. She didn’t quite say it, but I knew from the look she gave me every time she came over to my apartment she judged me for not paying my rent by myself.
Now? I’m going to be independent, and that means no help from my dad.
Growing a little more stern, he stops me blowing up my air mattress and tilts my chin so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “Ryan, I’m proud of you for being ambitious and going after what you want, but if you think I’m going to hop on an airplane without at least filling up that mini fridge of yours with food, you’re sorely mistaken. You might want to do this on your own, but I’m still your father, and if I want to get you a few things for your apartment, that’s my damn right.”
I might be stubborn, but there’s a reason for it. I got it from my dad and from the look in his eyes, I have a feeling I won’t be getting my way.
Point to the old man.
* * *
“I really like what you’ve done with the place,” Leah says as she takes in my apartment, which takes her about two seconds given the tiny space. “It’s very camping chic. The real plant in the corner is a nice touch.”
My dad went a little overboard—even though I begged him not to—but if there is one thing you can count on when it comes to my dad? He’s determined to spoil me any chance he gets. It’s why I have state-of-the art camping chairs directed at a mini flat-screen TV and Blu-ray player.
I organized my apartment into sections: living space, with my two camping chairs; my bedroom, which is in the corner closest to the bathroom; and then diagonally opposite of my double-decker air mattress is my little kitchenette section with a folding table acting as my only counter and storage space. My dad wasn’t too thrilled about the setup, but I told him it would be fine. I would be fine. I sent him on his way yesterday and then took the time to really make the place mine. Small, but mine.
Leah got me the job that moved me here, and to show her my gratitude, I invited her over for some homemade cocktails blended together in the Ninja blender my dad insisted on getting. I put up a two-second fight once I saw the many drinks I could make in it.
Okay, I’ll admit, I cracked on the blender.
But smoothies and cocktails! I really didn’t have a choice.
“Thank you. I was going for camping chic, so I’m glad I accomplished that.”
“Didn’t you have furniture in your old apartment?”
I nod. “But it was furnished by the owner. What I did have wouldn’t fit in this small space.”
Leah gives the place another once-over. “You really did utilize the space well.” She eyes my bed. “Is that an air mattress?”
I nod and hand her a piña colada I mixed before she got here. “Yes, it is, so please refrain from wearing any spikey clothes near it.”
“I’ll refrain.” She takes a sip of her drink and then takes my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze while letting out a girly squeal. “Ah, I can’t believe you’re here. Are you excited?”
“So excited.”
“The girls are excited to work with you. I’ve shown them your work, and they can’t wait for you to get started. But just so you know, I’ve laid claim on you, so I’m always your first priority, remember that.” I wonder if she has any idea how fantastic hearing that is? I’ve needed this. Affirmation. To gain back my confidence.
I give her a wink and take a seat in one of my camping chairs. “Don’t worry. You’re my number-one girl.”
“Good.” She takes a sip of her drink and sits down as well. “Wow, this chair is comfortable.”
“Only the best for Daniel Collier’s daughter.”
Leah laughs. “Ugh, I’m so mad I missed your dad. I would have loved to say hi. I used to have a crush on him growing up.”
“What? Ew, don’t say things like that.”
“Well, it’s true. There was something about the way he loosened his ties when he got home from work. Made my little teenage heart skip a beat.”
“Seriously, you need to stop.”
She laughs. “I wasn’t the only one. A lot of our friends, including Rory, had a crush on your dad. He was so handsome.”
“I’m going to poke you in the eye with a mascara wand; that’s the ragey level you’re bringing me to.”
Chuckling, she holds her straw between her fingers and takes a long drink. “What, you didn’t feel the same about my bald, potbelly father?”
“I mean, when he stuck his hand up his shirt and scratched the hair on his belly, that was something. Certainly an image I haven’t got out of my head.”
“The man has no class.” Mirth laces her voice. “But I love him. Speaking of my dad, he still thinks I’m a vet.”
“No, he does not.”
She nods while sipping her drink. “He so does. I take random pictures with people’s pets and send them to him to keep up the illusion.”
I tilt my head back and let out a long chuckle. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Come on, you know my dad. If he found out I was a Vegas showgirl, he’d have a coronary. Lying to him is keeping him alive.”
“Lying for life. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of that.”
“You’re going to hear way worse living here. Trust me, you’re about to be opened up to a whole new world.”
We’re silent for a second letting Leah’s words settle in.
“Do you really take pictures with random people’s pets?”
Confirming my suspicions, she pulls out her phone and shows me a picture of herself with a few different dogs, all smiling, and in every picture, she’s wearing scrubs.
“What the hell are you wearing in these pictures?”
“Oh,” she swallows. “I always carry a scrub shirt in my purse in the off chance I run into an animal.” She taps her head. “It’s all about thinking ahead.”
“You’re so ridiculous. So are you going to give me the grand tour?”
She groans and slouches in her chair. “Am I going to have to be your tour guide? Don’t you know anyone else here?”
Yes, but not really.
I’m tempted to tell her I know Colby, but that will probably welcome questions, and I don’t think I want to answer any questions about him. It’s way too complicated. It was the hottest night I’d had in years—probably ever—but I’m actually a little embarrassed I told him he was a good fuck. I mean, come on. The guy would know that. Him and his broody moves. Thinking we’ll stay clear of Mr. Brooks for a while.
“You’re it, babe. Sorry.”
“I figured as much. Well, don’t expect me to show you around. Instead, we’re going to experience.”
“Experience?”
She slowly nods.
“Every Sunday, some of the girls and I head to the pools for drinks and tanning. This Sunday, I believe we’re headed to The Venetian. One thing you’ll learn about Vegas is that the pool parties are killer. DJs, drinks, food, and hot guys in swim trunks—doe
sn’t get better than that. Every Sunday, it’s a ritual, so get ready for it. You packed a bathing suit, right?”
“Of course.”
“What kind of bathing suit?” She eyes me suspiciously.
“Uh, a regular two-piece? It’s red.”
She makes a disapproving sound. “That won’t do. We’ll go bathing suit shopping this week.”
“How do you know it won’t do? You haven’t even seen it.”
She motions with her finely manicured finger at my face. “From the way you scrunched your nose and said regular leads me to believe it’s full coverage.”
“Of course it’s full coverage.”
Leaning over, she pats me on the leg. “In Vegas, nothing is full coverage, sweetheart.” Oh. Shit.
Chapter Seventy-Five
COLBY
“Thanks for meeting me. I feel like a dick for not picking you up.”
Sage shrugs her shoulders, looking pretty in a green dress, brown sandals, and her hair pulled back in some weird twisty braid thing. I had to meet her at the restaurant instead of picking her up at her house because I was running late at the airfield.
Luckily, I brought clothes to change into and was able to take a shower in the lockers. The restaurant I picked was a little farther than expected, and with Vegas traffic I barely made it on time. My hair’s still wet, and I’m now covered in a light sweat since I had to sprint to get here when I couldn’t find parking close to the restaurant.
My pursuit for parking and trying to get here on time was a reminder why I don’t go out much; it’s a fucking hassle. And I know I sound like an old man saying that, but it really is a hassle, so why bother?
Now? Well, maybe there will be a reason to deal with the hassle?
“At least you smell nice.” She stands on her toes, leans in, and tentatively gives me a small side hug. She’s so fucking cute. Before she can pull away, I wrap my arm around her narrow waist and bring her in closer for a real hug. Her cheek presses against my chest with the top of her head barely reaching my chin, and it’s nice. Comforting actually. God, when was the last time I felt this sort of touch? No wonder humans need touch.
It takes her a moment, but she wraps her arms around my waist and returns the gesture, her body relaxing. So goddamn sweet. She smells like heaven too, the same flowery perfume she wore on our first date.
The hostess calls out Sage’s name, interrupting our greeting, and guides us through the busy restaurant to a booth in the back where we can experience a bit of privacy from the booming crowd. I requested something somewhat quiet since Sage has such a soft voice. I want to be able to hear her and talk to her without having to strain to listen.
“Your server is Zack, and he’ll be with you shortly.” The hostess places the menus in front of us along with some silverware and takes off.
Smirking, Sage leans forward and says, “This place is much better than the all-you-can-eat buffet.”
Fucking saucy woman. She’ll never let me live that down. She may not look like Balboa, but she’s definitely related.
To be honest, I like it when she teases me, when she comes out of her shell. It’s as though she’s unsure how to act at times. A little awkward, but she’s a pretty awkward. It makes you chuckle and puts a smile on your face. On my face. A smile I haven’t worn in a long time.
Not to mention, she has a beautiful smile, and when she’s mischievous with it, I like to see how many times I can generate the same reaction from her.
“Maybe we can forget that night altogether, start fresh, act like this is our first date.” Please, for the love of fuck, let’s forget that night.
She shakes her head. “Oh no, I don’t think so, mister. Despite the chicken-wing bandit and weird dinner, I had a really good time.” A little blush spreads across her alabaster skin, smooth and silky, as if her skin has never seen a day in the sun.
“Yeah?” My brow lifts.
Her lashes flutter, her smile deepening. “Yeah, a really good time.”
Fuck if that doesn’t send a surge of pride through my chest. There was no way it was the best or most inventive date ever, so knowing she had a good time puts me at ease.
It’s easy when I’m looking for a one-night stand. I don’t have to do much, and I don’t go looking often, but dating is an entirely different story. And Sage is completely different than Rory, so I’m way out of my league when it comes to knowing what I’m doing. Sage waits for me to take charge, so she seems to have the patience of a saint . . . even with me.
All-you-can-eat buffet. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking?
“I’m glad.” Awkwardly, we smile at each other for a few beats before we turn back to our menus, silence falling between us.
Focus on the menu, not on the beautiful girl in front of you.
Okay, what do I want?
Burger?
Sandwich?
Pizza?
I glance over my menu, unable to control my urge to study her, figure her out. Balboa is so boisterous and loud, and Sage is the complete opposite. Long eyelashes flutter upward just in time to connect with my gaze. Her smile replicates mine, her eyes intent on me, a noticeable excitement brewing between us. Not saying a word but giant grins on our faces, we go back to our menus and for the life of me, I can’t keep my mouth in a flat line. The corners are permanently tilted, while the words on the menu collide with each other, my focus nowhere to be found.
Okay, what to eat. Chicken . . .
My eyes wander back to Sage who’s studying the menu intently, her lips quirked to the side, her head lowered enough that she doesn’t see me taking her in. Soft features, porcelain skin, the softest brown eyes I’ve ever seen framed by dark glasses. So gorgeous. And there is a sense of fragility surrounding her that I like, almost as if she needs someone to protect her.
And I’m good at that—protecting. It’s my entire life: protect and serve.
There is a tilt of her head to the side as she studies the menu, her top teeth rolling over her bottom lip, contemplating what to get, almost as if she can’t decide between two things. She glances up and catches me staring at her. Immediately her cheeks go red, and it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.
She pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear that fell out of her braid, her fingers slender and small as they graze the side of her head.
Blinking a few times, she sets her menu down and says, “Are you just going to sit there and stare at me? You’re making me think I have something in my teeth.”
“You don’t.”
“Then what is it?”
I pause, look her square in her warm eyes and say, “You’re beautiful, Sage.”
Another blush stains her cheeks as she bows her head shyly, the compliment highlighting how reticent she is.
“Thank you.” Her voice is soft before she picks up her menu and says, “You’re going to be trouble, Colby Brooks. I can feel it.”
“Good trouble or bad trouble?”
She lifts a brow in my direction. “Jury is still out.”
* * *
“This is so good.” Sage pops her fork out of her mouth and holds it with both hands, looking toward the ceiling, looking grateful for the bite she just took. “Seriously, great call. I was skeptical at first, but this is so freaking good.”
I sit back in my booth, fork in my left hand, watching Sage fawn over buffalo cauliflower as if it’s the best thing she’s ever put in her mouth. Being an observer, I enjoy studying her, her quirks and the little sounds she makes when she likes something.
After every bite she takes, she follows it up with a wipe of her napkin that she places delicately back on her lap, and then a sip of her water.
When answering a question and she’s nervous, she always plays with her glasses, and when she gets excited about something we’re talking about, she folds her hands in front of her on the table and has a light bounce in her seat.
She also likes to tilt her head when talking to me, only on occasion
though, like she’s studying me just the same.
“Want me to order another round for you?”
For a moment, I think she’s going to say yes, but then she shakes her head and rests her fork on the table. “I want to keep room for my burger that’s coming my way.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to see you take that thing down. I have my doubts.”
She tsks me. “Don’t let this body deter you; I can take down some meat.”
I’m mid sip of my drink when I sputter water over the table, an image of Sage taking down “meat” rapidly firing through my head.
“Are you okay?” she asks, completely oblivious to what she just said.
I hold my hand up. “Yup, fine.”
“Are you sure? I think water came out of your nose.”
“I’m good.” I wipe my face with my napkin, and take a deep breath. “For the record, saying you can take down some meat might have a different connotation, especially to perverted fighter pilots.”
It’s true; we’re all idiots who have a maturity level of twelve-year-olds at times. I have no shame in admitting it. As pilots, our minds are consumed with the mechanics of what we’re flying and the seriousness of the tasks we’re asked or will be asked to perform. So when we get a chance to let loose, we revert back to our teenage years.
Sometimes I wonder if some of the guys ever left their teenage years behind them . . .
Hesitating before she speaks again, I can see her little mind working to understand what she said. When she’s clued in, her mouth cutely shapes into an O before she chuckles, bringing her napkin to her mouth.
“Oops.” She shrugs. “I feel like I should have realized that, especially since I’m living with Rocky and Rowdy, two of the biggest perverts out there. You can’t say anything around them without it becoming a sexual innuendo.”
“Rowdy is bad.” I scratch the side of my jaw. “You should hear him on the com when we’re in the air. The ass never stops.”
“Oh I believe it. He’s . . . interesting, isn’t he?”
The Duets Page 60