A low chuckle bubbles out of me as I slowly nod my head to confirm. “Yeah, he’s interesting. That’s a way to describe it. Interesting but a good guy. Very loyal.”
“A good quality to have. What would you say your best quality is, Colby?”
“Best quality? Hmm . . .” I pull on the back of my neck as I think about it. I’m good at picking out everyone else’s positive qualities, but mine? That’s a different story. “I don’t know, honestly. It’s not something I think about often.”
“So you’re not in your cockpit, pondering over your best quality while going at Mach speeds?”
“Not so much.” I shake my head in mirth. “What about you? What would you say your best quality is?”
She folds her hands in front of her, not skipping a beat. “Seeing the best in people.”
I don’t know her very well, but there is no doubt in my mind this is true.
“Yeah? What do you see in me?”
I wait as her eyes rake over me, her gaze like a laser beam examining me. “I see a man who wants nothing more than to do the right thing. Which means if he has to order the buffalo cauliflower for his date, he will.”
I wink at her. “Damn right I will.”
* * *
Giant cookie.
Coffee.
A beautiful girl.
And great conversation.
It’s a good night.
“Bite?” I offer as we sit on a bench, an enormous snickerdoodle being shared between us, as we watch tourists and locals pass us by, the wind providing for a cooler night.
Smiling at me, a twinkle in her eye, she leans over and takes a bite of the cookie, only to lean back on the bench and savor every morsel.
“Okay, I can get used to the food here.”
“Minus the buffet.”
She pats my leg. “Minus the buffet. Seriously though, thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to pay again.”
“Of course I did.” My brow pinches together. “I asked you out, I pay. Plus I’m pretty sure your brother would have my head if I made you pay.”
“He’s very old-fashioned like that.” She rolls her eyes, her body language a little stiff, but starting to warm up to me as she slightly turns, her knee knocking into mine. “So what if I asked you out on a date? Does that mean I get to pay?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“No.” I take a bite of the cookie.
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
I tip her chin up, the feeling of her soft skin on my finger awakening a part of me I haven’t felt in a while. “Life isn’t fair sometimes, Sage.”
She studies me for a second and says, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“How come you’re not like the other guys, going to nightclubs all the time?”
“Not my scene. Don’t care for it much.”
“Ever?”
“Not really.” I break off a piece of cookie and hand it to her. “I’m like you, the homebody. I’ve been very regimented my entire life. I’ve kind of had a one-track mind—be a fighter pilot. I guess I don’t know how to really let loose.”
And I really don’t have any need to. I once had it explained to me that my need for quiet and order was because I’m an introvert. During work hours, I’m surrounded by people, instructions, stress, activity, conversations—constant input. And the combination wipes me out. I’ve learned that I recharge by spending time alone.
But, being with Sage now, I wonder if I might need to explore more outside of my rituals and comfort zones.
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask her, growing serious.
“I wish that you would be.” She places her hand on my forearm tentatively and says, “I like you, Colby, and I want to see where this goes, but I’ve been burned in the past. It’s why I’m so cautious, and why Rocky is so protective. So I ask that you’re just open and honest with me about everything.”
“Burned?”
She shakes her head. “A story for another day. You tell me what you were about to say.”
How could someone burn Sage? She’s so sweet and demure, which seems untouchable to me when it comes to burning someone, although someone like her might be the most susceptible to dickheads.
Focusing on our conversation and what I was about to tell her, I say, “I didn’t have the best childhood. I won’t get into it now, but I found an escape at a young age and it was planes. It’s what has ruled my life for the past seventeen years. I haven’t learned how to really move away from that yet. I guess I haven’t really lived outside of the Air Force so I might be”—I pull on the back of my neck, feeling embarrassed—“boring.”
Shit, I never really thought about that until now. I am. I’m boring. I was more fun in college when Stryder was dragging me everywhere or when we were parachuting on the weekends. I had more of a life back then. Now, if I’m not in the cockpit or in the gym, I’m at home, reading a damn book, building a new model plane, or watching some documentary about flying.
Christ. I am boring. What a horrifying realization.
“You’re not boring. I haven’t found that at all. You’re actually really interesting to me.”
I want to argue with her. I want to tell her I have a stick up my ass and don’t ever do anything fun, but I also want to see her again, and convincing her that I’m a stick-in-the-mud might not be a good idea.
Instead, I say, “Yeah?” and playfully wiggle my eyebrows at her, which makes her laugh.
“Yeah.” She bumps her shoulder with mine and then snags another piece of the cookie, popping it in her mouth in one quick movement. She settles in next to me, her bare shoulder leaning into me, and I’m half-tempted to put my arm around her but hold off. Sage seems like a girl you take things really slow with.
“What do you think they’re doing?” Sage asks, nodding to a couple dressed in matching shirts and holding giant drinks in their hands.
“Hmm.” I break off another piece of cookie and chew on it as I think. “I want to say total party animals who’ve been married for thirty years and are here on vacation as a bucket list trip.”
“Ooo.” Sage looks up at me, impressed. “That’s good a very good answer, and I want to say probably accurate.”
“Tourists are easy to pinpoint.”
“You think so?” She squints, eyeing me suspiciously, challenge in her eyes.
I motion to the crowd. “Go ahead, test me.”
“So confident, okay . . .” She scans the crowd, her cute little finger tapping her chin. “What about that couple over there, the ones with the hot dogs?”
“Couple from Europe, getting the true American experience.”
She laughs. “And them right there, the girl with the five-inch heels?”
“Ah.” I nod. “Escort and her pimp.”
She bursts out in laughter and playfully swats my leg. “They are not a pimp and escort. What is wrong with you?”
“They could be. Look, they’re talking to a man right now. Bet they’re making a deal for the night.”
She shakes her head in laughter. “You’ve been watching Pretty Woman, haven’t you?”
“Guilty,” I joke, making her laugh even more.
With a deep breath, I take that moment to move my arm around her shoulder and bring her in closer to my side. Her laugh subsides as she takes in our new position. For a brief moment, I have a horrible feeling she’s going to pick up my arm and return it to where it was, but instead she snuggles in closer and breaks off another piece of cookie. And . . . it feels good. She fits me, with her lightness and sweetness, her quirky sense of humor. This feels good. I don’t think I’m desperately lonely or wanting a girlfriend per se, but if there is a chance for more here, I think I’d be a fool to ignore it. I need to . . . woo.
* * *
“You do realize how ridiculous this is, right?”
I shut Sage’s car door after the incredibly short drive from my house to hers. I made her wait for
me to park my car in the driveway, then hop in her car so I could walk her to her door.
Ridiculous, yes. But I have my reasons.
If I remember anything Gramps taught me, it was how to be a gentleman and how to “woo” a woman. He used to tell me countless stories of how he constantly won my grandma over with his smooth moves. I’m trying to channel him right about now.
“Do you need me to carry anything?” I ask, not dignifying her question with an answer.
Keys in hand and purse on her shoulder, she says, “I’m good.”
A little wave of nerves shoot up my spine when she rounds the corner of her little car and I hold my hand out to her. She pauses mid-stride, takes in my gesture, and waits a breath before slipping her hand in mine.
She feels good, her palm pressing against mine, her shoulder gently brushing against mine.
“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun,” she says as we take small steps up the front walkway.
“I had a really good time too. Sorry about almost being late. I’m not usually like that.”
She tugs on my hand. “Colby, I get it. My brother is a pilot. I know your schedules are hectic and unpredictable at times. If I wasn’t going to be understanding of that, then I never would have gone out with you.” Is she always so thoughtful?
“Well, thank fuck you’re understanding.” We reach her front door, the outside light on, but thankfully, no prying eyes are looking through the windows.
She turns toward me and adjusts her purse on her shoulder with the hand that’s holding her keys. I move in a step, closing the space between us and tilting her chin up with my index finger, my hand still clasped to hers. I want more. For the first time in a long time, I want to spend time with a woman away from work.
“See me again?”
“You want to go out again?”
I nod, my eyes feeling heavy as I stare at her plump lips, and there is one thing on my mind—other than securing another date with this woman: kissing her.
Hell, I wanted to kiss her the first night we went out but given how reserved she is, I gave her a hug, but it didn’t fill my craving.
Sage intrigues me. She makes me want to know more about her, to find out what her lips feel like on mine, or the little sounds she makes when I scoop her into my grasp, our bodies flush and yearning. I want to know other ways I can make her blush.
I’m interested, more than interested, maybe a little infatuated, and I want to earn the chance to peel back the layers that formed her into the beautiful woman she is today.
“Yeah, I want to go out again. I like you, Sage, and I want to see where this goes.”
She smiles, her eyes falling to the side for a moment before she lets out a long sigh and looks back at me. “Does that mean we would be dating exclusively?”
I nod. “Yeah, it does. Is that okay with you?”
She drops her keys in her purse and moves her hand to my chest, her palm pressing against my pecs. I have to prevent myself from taking in a sharp breath from the way her hand burns through my shirt. “That is perfect for me.”
“Good.” I swallow hard, and feeling more nervous than ever, I lift my other hand to her cheek where I cradle her head and bring her closer.
Her eyes search mine as I lower my mouth but don’t go the full distance. I pause, wait for her to protest, to tell me she’s not ready. But when she licks her lips and moves forward a few inches, I take that as my cue.
I gently bring her mouth to mine, my thumb stroking her cheek as I press my lips against hers.
Full, soft, fucking perfect. Tentatively her lips move against mine, never opening wide enough for my tongue, but exploring enough to let me know she’s definitely interested . . . more than interested.
The light on the porch starts to rapidly flicker on and off, our little twosome about to be interrupted. Reluctantly, I pull away but keep my nose close to hers. “I think our little party is about to be broken up by your brother if I don’t say goodbye soon.”
She sighs. “He’s so mean to me. I should be able to kiss a guy out on the front stoop without interruption.”
“I agree, but it seems like Balboa has other plans.”
“We should have kissed in your driveway.”
I thumb toward my house behind me. “Want to walk back over there? I’m more than happy to move this somewhere else.”
She laughs and presses her forehead against mine. “I should get inside.” She pecks me quickly on the lips before stepping away. “Thank you for tonight, Colby. I had a great time.”
Another step and she’s inching away from me when I’m not quite ready for that to happen. I yank on her hand, pulling her back into my chest where I take her mouth with mine one more time for good measure, to make sure she goes to bed thinking about nothing but this kiss and the way I feel wrapped around her body.
The door to the house opens and Balboa pops out, shirtless with a scowl. He pulls on Sage’s hand and says, “Say good night. It’s time for bed.”
Protesting in her sweet voice, she says, “I don’t do this to the women you bring home.”
Balboa eyes me up and down, a warning in his eyes passing between us. Don’t hurt her. I get it and don’t plan on hurting her.
“Men are horndogs. Flyer is no exception. If you keep kissing him, he’s going to be fucking you in that bush over there.”
“Balboa, come—”
“Don’t test me, Flyer.” He points his finger at me. “You got your goodnight kiss, now move the fuck on.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Sage says, trying to free herself from his grasp, but his python of an arm wraps around her waist and pulls her into the house, as she kicks her little legs.
“See you at the airfield.” With a quick two-fingered salute, Balboa slams the door and locks it.
What the fuck was that?
The distance between our houses doesn’t give me enough time to recount the kiss we shared, and all it does is tempt me to go back to her house and steal one more.
I make my way into my house, shut the door, and press my hand to my forehead where I take a second to gather myself, the gravity of what just happened pulling me back down to earth.
I kissed Sage, and it was fucking nice. No, it was more than nice, it was . . . addicting. Welcoming lips eager and wanting more, fuck, I wish her brother wasn’t Balboa right about now, because I would be telling him to shove it while I stole more kisses from—
Knock. Knock.
Shit, it better not be Balboa warning me again. The dude can be a little overprotective. Then again, if I had a sister and the shoe was on the other foot, I think I would be just as protective.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door, ready to be blasted with a lecture . . . Before I can say anything, Sage moves into my space, grips my cheeks, and pulls me down for another kiss.
Stunned for a heartbeat, it takes me a moment to register what’s happening, but once I do, I circle my arms around her waist and hold on to her tight, our lips locked, our bodies molding as one.
“Sage Bethany!” Balboa’s voice roars across a few yards.
She quickly pulls away and looks to the side, toward her house. “Crap, he’s coming. Save yourself.” She quickly gives me another little peck then takes off, running through the yards to get to her house. Balboa chases after her, Sage laughing the entire way, looking so goddamn innocent and perfect that I can’t help enjoying this lighthearted moment. Because I can’t remember the last time I laughed and relaxed . . .
She’s like a breath of fresh air, and even though I had no clue, was content with how my life rolled, perhaps I need that in my life.
Maybe, just maybe, I need this girl—this breath of fresh air—in my life to reawaken my soul. If she wants that. Only time will tell.
Chapter Seventy-Six
RYAN
Eleven years old . . .
“What do you have in your hand?”
I look at the red piece of fabric and then back at my mom. “
It’s . . . it’s a bathing suit.”
Dad was supposed to take me shopping today but got called into work, which meant I’m stuck with Mom. If the party wasn’t tomorrow, I would have waited for Dad since he’s so much more fun.
It’s been horrible.
I so desperately want to flee the store and go cry in the car, waiting until my dad can come join us, but I know that’s not going to happen. When he’s called into work, it’s usually serious. He apologized profusely, told me he would bring home dinner and to have fun with Mom.
Have fun with Mom. Not sure I’ve ever had fun with her. Why does he still think I would have fun with Mom. Doesn’t he see how much she hates me?
I finally have some friends. It took me a few weeks, but I ate lunch with some really nice girls last week, and they invited me to an indoor pool party they’re having tomorrow. I’m super excited, and I realize how important this moment is in a young girl’s life. It’s going to be my first girl-boy party. Danielle and Tory both told me Drake Wilson was going to be at the party.
Let me repeat that. Drake Wilson.
He’s the heartthrob of sixth grade with his Abercrombie shirts, and spikey hair with bleached tips. He’s a total dreamboat, not to mention, he’s taller than all the other boys in our grade. And he has a signature Von Dutch trucker hat that he wears on occasion that makes his dark eyes look even darker when he’s wearing it.
So cute.
And he’s going to be at the party.
Tory and Danielle were saying he has pretty big biceps for a boy our age, something you can see well when he has his shirt off. I’m excited to see. I like biceps. I think they’re sexy.
I giggle at the thought of myself saying sexy.
“Are you listening to me?” My mom snaps her finger in my face.
“Sorry, I was thinking about something. What were you saying?”
She thrusts a black one-piece bathing suit in front of me with checkered racing strips down the side. “Try this on.”
“Ew, no. That thing is really ugly.”
Irritated, she holds it up and motions to the piece of fabric as she speaks. “It’s black, which is flattering on every woman. It’s a one-piece to hide everything that shouldn’t be showing.” She narrows her eyes in on my stomach. “And the stripes on the side will elongate your torso, making you look slimmer.”
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