This attraction to Jagger, the longing, the craving to be near him, it was wrong, and Will deserved better. “I…I have to go.” I scrambled back.
“Paisley, don’t.”
I fumbled with my door handle. “Why do we always have these conversations outside my car?” I muttered. “I have to go, Jagger.”
“We always have these conversations outside your car because you’re always trying to leave. You could try finishing a conversation, you know.”
An unladylike snort escaped me. “That’s not the least bit true. These…talks happen because I’ve already stayed too long. I’m sorry about the swim lessons.”
“He…” Jagger took a deep breath. “Carter can’t be that big of a dick. He’s a pompous asshat, but he doesn’t want you to drown.”
“Will is going to teach me himself. He’s not what you think he is. He’s a good man, a good friend.”
“Friend? Is that seriously how you think of him?”
“He is my friend!” I shouted, and then gasped, my eyes darting around the empty parking lot to make sure I hadn’t caused a scene. “That’s the base of any real relationship, what makes it the strongest, so don’t mock it. And he’s not up for discussion, remember? Wasn’t that your request?”
The muscle in his jaw twitched, but he withdrew slowly, his hands reaching for the sky before they clasped the back of his head. “Well, I’m your friend, too. And a friend says something when the other’s dating a douche bag.”
I didn’t try to stop him from walking away. Mostly because I couldn’t give him a good enough reason to stay.
Chapter Thirteen
Jagger
Maybe one day you’ll be proud that I took a chance—hung everything out there on the line. But you’ll probably only be more pissed that it wasn’t your damned line.
Three fucking weeks, and I’d only seen the top of Paisley’s head at the library. Whenever I was working there, she avoided me like the plague. The only way I’d known she’d even seen the back room were the organized supplies on the new shelves.
We were a day or two from finishing, and then I’d have no excuse to see her anymore.
“Hey, where are you? Because it’s sure not here,” Josh asked.
I blinked twice and woke the fuck up. “I’m here.” I tapped my pen on the desk, stretching my legs out in front of me, wondering how much of the lecture I’d missed.
Our instructor, Mr. Givens, looked at the clock, and I followed suit. Mondays always seemed the longest, but today was dragging ass.
“Who do you think it will be?” Josh asked in a whisper.
Carter turned from his seat ahead of us and shot Josh a glare, like he was the noise police. I shot it back, and it turned icy on his part. What the fuck did he have to be so angry about? He got to keep Paisley, while I lost my friend. I swiveled my finger in a circle, and he took the hint and turned around, but not before he shook his head. He disapproved of my choice of finger, apparently.
“It’s close,” Masters said.
“My money’s on Jagger.”
That earned Josh a snort from Carter. He tapped his ring on the desk for good measure, like he needed to remind us that he’d graduated West Point.
“Good bet,” Masters replied.
I ignored them both and concentrated on the PowerPoint ahead of us. Not that I didn’t already know this shit. It had been committed to memory since I picked up a book on the principles of flight when I was thirteen. Regardless, I made sure to take a look at each slide as he presented them.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering what’s going to happen this afternoon for the flight schedule,” Mr. Givens segued. My grip tightened on my pen so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. First solo flight went to the highest on the OML, which was a pretty closely guarded secret. Not that we didn’t all try to keep tabs on test scores to figure it out ourselves, but this would be the only real way to measure before the official list was posted at selection. “You solo flight when you’re ready, not because it’s your turn.” He pinned the schedule to the board. “Those of you who are ready are listed on today’s schedule, along with who your stick buddy will be for the remainder of primary.” He smiled like he hadn’t altered our entire lives, announcing that we’d also be assigned our pilot partners. “Enjoy your lunch. Meet here at thirteen hundred.”
He walked out, and chairs screeched as the class rushed the board. I hung toward the back, flipping Paisley’s nickel over in my fingers. I knew all about the nickel flight tradition and had given my IP a different one. The shiny coin in my hand was the first gift I’d been given in six years; I wasn’t letting anyone have it.
Josh came over grinning, clapping Masters on the shoulder.
“Well, did you make the varsity football team?” I asked.
“Hell, yes, and I scored Grayson as my stick buddy. But you—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Carter’s exclamation cut Josh off.
“What’s wrong, West Point? Didn’t make the cut?” I called out. Josh elbowed me in the ribs, but that didn’t stop the smirk of satisfaction crossing my face as Carter glared at me.
“Fuck you, Bateman. Looks like we’ll be seeing enough of each other as it is. I’m going to grab lunch with Lee.”
Hearing her name out of his mouth squeezed my chest like a vise. My fist clenched, and I couldn’t manage to draw a full breath until he was out of my sight. “He’s an asshole.”
Josh raised his eyebrows at me. “Good news or bad?”
“Both,” I answered.
“Looks like you solo first.”
My head snapped toward his, looking for any indication that he was messing with me. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” He smiled, mock-punching my shoulder. “Good job, man.”
First. I was going to solo first. Top of the Order of Merit list. I had a shot at an Apache, and not fucking my friends over. “That’s…” I couldn’t find the words. “Where’s the bad in that?”
Josh laughed. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
Nearly everyone left, either ecstatic about soloing in the afternoon or utterly dejected. I didn’t have a problem getting to the schedule or finding my name in the first slot. Hell, yes. This was everything I’d been— What the fuck?
“This should be interesting,” Grayson said, standing next to me.
I’d gotten Will Carter as my damn stick buddy. Fuck my life.
I juggled our drinks—two beers and a sweet tea—like a professional frat boy and headed to our table. Masters accepted his tea with a nod, because speaking more than the required amount of words might kill the guy, and Josh gave me a half smile. “Thanks, man.”
We all relaxed and drank as our classmates ambled in, grabbing drinks at the bar and dragging chairs over to join us. Once over a dozen of us were there, some with girlfriends or the occasional wife, we had to combine tables. The bar filled quickly for a Friday night, with both flight school students and local girls. A couple of them were eye-fucking me from their bar stools.
“What’s with you?” Josh asked. “I get to be pissy. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen my girlfriend, but what’s your excuse?”
I shook my head and wiped the condensation off my glass. Beverages, people…everything sweats down here. “Nothing, man.” I spun the nickel on the table.
“Bullshit.” He scoffed.
“Let it go.”
“I’ve known you for three damn years, Jagger. All you ever talk about is hockey and helicopters, so you’re going to have to explain why you’re not jumping through your ass in joy right now. You soloed first, man, first! I get the little chastity vow you’ve self-imposed, but you’ve got two hot girls over there dying to make your lap their seat, and you look like your dog just died.”
“I don’t have a dog.” I couldn’t explain what I didn’t understand myself.
“You know what I mean. I know it blows that you’ve got Carter as your stick buddy, but at least you guys wil
l push each other.”
Push each other right off a damn cliff.
He leaned forward and dropped his voice, “You know you can talk to me.”
“He said to let it go,” Masters answered quietly. “Sometimes voicing something gives it power over you. He’s got to acknowledge his own shit storm before he lets someone else witness it.”
I raised my beer in salute and drained half the glass.
“Dude, you speak?” one of our classmates asked Masters, looking dumbstruck.
Masters glared in response.
“Masters no speak. Only grunt,” replied Montgomery. The street-to-seat nineteen-year-old kid had the nerve to make monkey motions at Masters. Why the hell did they let babies into flight school?
“How was that solo-cycle ride, Montgomery?” I countered.
“Fuck you, Bateman.” The kid turned bright red. He’d ranked last on the OML, soloed last, therefore had to pedal the infamous solo cycle down the airfield.
Persley cleared his throat. “Right. Anyway”—he raised his voice and his glass—“here’s to us, for all completing solo flights without burning one in!”
A cheer resounded, drowning out the music. “And here’s to Bateman for soloing first!” Josh slapped my back and lifted his glass to another cheer.
“To Bateman.” Carter’s mocking voice grated as he took the empty seat directly across from me. I spun the nickel and kept my eyes focused on it.
“Congratulations, Jagger.”
I stopped the nickel midspin, seeing Paisley standing behind him. She’d come. She never came to these things. She wore a fitted top the same green as her eyes, and it might not have shown off that amazing rack she had, but it was sexier than anything the spandex sisters at the bar were wearing. She smiled, and my fucking heart stopped beating momentarily, then hammered.
Get a grip.
I clenched the nickel in my fist and answered her smile with my own. “Thanks, Paisley. Want me to grab you a chair?” I threw out the olive branch.
“She doesn’t need a chair.” Carter wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “Do you, Lee-Lee?”
I arched an eyebrow at the nickname. It sounded ridiculous, like a five-year-old child instead of the beautiful woman in front of me.
“I’m fine,” she said softly, as if she was answering my thoughts and not his question. She blushed and tucked that soft blond hair behind her ears, then wound her arm around his shoulders like she was happy to be there. Of course she’s happy to be there. He’s her damn boyfriend.
Dropkick Murphys came on the jukebox. Paisley smiled as “Rose Tattoo,” her favorite song, started to play. She arched an eyebrow at me, and I gave her a small nod. Yes, it’s for you.
Carter locked eyes with me, turned her head, and kissed her, never wavering in his gaze. “Yep, she seems pretty fine to me.”
“Well, I’m glad one of us is,” I responded without thinking. Shit. My mouth was going to get me into trouble. That familiar pressure rose in my chest, and I knew this was not going to end well. Too bad I didn’t give a shit enough to stop it from happening.
“What does that mean?” Paisley shot at me, her eyes narrowing.
I gave her my best mocking smile. “Well, Carter has a pretty girl in his lap. I’m feeling like I might need the same kind of treatment.” I winked at the prettier of the girls at the bar, the one with her tits hanging out, and she giggled. That was more like it. I turned to Paisley. “That a problem for you?”
Her jaw flexed twice. “Nope. Why would it be?”
“Oh, this is priceless,” Masters muttered under his breath and finished his drink. “Another?”
“That’d be great.”
He stood as the busty little brunette swayed over to us, her hips arriving before the rest of her. “Hi there,” she said with a breathless southern accent and a slow, sultry smile.
“Hi there yourself,” I answered with the grin I knew could drop her panties before we hit the parking lot.
“Mind if I take a seat? I was gettin’ all sorts of lonely over there.” She batted her eyelashes, and Paisley made a sound that was half snort, half growl.
“Not at all. I’m Jagger, and you’re…?”
She smiled, her makeup cracking at the corners of her mouth. “I’m Marjorie.” She moved to take Masters’s seat.
“I’m sorry, Marje, but that’s Masters’s seat. Seems to be a full house tonight.” Paisley’s sweet drawl had a distinct, intriguing bite. How far could I push her before she reacted?
“Oh, Paisley Donovan. I didn’t barely see you there all snuggled up on…Will Carter, is that you?” Marjorie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, which matched Paisley’s.
Carter lifted his beer in greeting. “Marje.”
I scooted my chair back as Masters handed me a fresh beer. “Small towns are fascinating.”
Marje took the opening and sat in my lap, her skirt riding over her thighs to where my jeans were the only barrier between us. “You don’t mind, do you? Those chairs are a little cold.” She threw puppy-dog eyes at me.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable. Jagger’s sworn off women,” Paisley drawled.
Marjorie sent me a sly smile. “Jagger doesn’t seem to mind me. Do you, darlin’?”
“Not in the least.” Not if it forced Paisley into some sort of dialogue. Anything was better than radio silence.
“Maybe he’s just sworn off the pale, boring ones. How is life in that little…library of yours, anyway?”
Paisley’s smile could have sweetened Grayson’s tea. “Still full of books. We’ve got some you might like, pictures and all.”
Josh whistled, and I took a deep drink of my beer, my eyes boring into Paisley. “I think that’s southern for ‘the claws just came out,’” Josh whispered.
I turned my cap backward. “I’d have to agree.”
Carter leaned away from Paisley. “Play nice, Lee.”
Fucking Carter.
“So you’re a flyboy?” Marjorie asked, turning to look at me.
“I’m in flight school,” I answered, tipping my glass toward Carter. “I’m actually Carter’s stick buddy.”
Carter blanched, and Paisley whipped her head, whispering something I couldn’t make out. From the look on Carter’s face, it wasn’t pleasant. “I was going to tell you,” he answered.
“Will Carter, a pilot! All those times we snuck out to…watch those helicopters take off at night, and now you’re flying one. Imagine that!” Marjorie’s voice dripped sugar. “And of course you’re first in your class, right?” She turned to me. “He always was.”
I leaned my head to the side and arched my eyebrow at Carter, whose glare could have sunk the Titanic. “There’s one prick in my way,” he answered, and then grunted in pain. Paisley’s elbow reappeared on the table.
Marjorie giggled, a high-pitched sound that more resembled a helium-sucking donkey. “Where on earth did you lose your accent to, Will Carter?”
Paisley bit back a smile, catching her lower lip in her teeth. Damn, I wanted to suck it free. My hand clenched, catching Marje’s thigh in the process. “Oh, you can do that again.” Marjorie smiled over her shoulder and rotated her hips across my groin. Paisley’s smile vanished.
“I spent a few years in New York. I think I left the accent there,” Will answered.
“Maybe you should fetch it,” Paisley muttered.
Marjorie picked up my beer and drank the last quarter of it. I was too busy watching the changes on Paisley’s face to give a shit. “Imagine. You two together!” She sighed. “Isn’t that just perfect? Who would have ever thought?” Paisley’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, sure, we all knew Will would end up with a Donovan girl, all right…” Paisley sucked in her breath. “Just had him pegged for the pretty one. Shame about your sister, God rest her soul.”
Paisley motioned to stand, but Carter locked his arm around her waist, keeping her firmly in his lap. “Relax, Lee-Lee.”
“Well, I’m e
mpty,” I said, standing quickly. Marjorie slid off my lap, barely catching herself on the edge of the table. “Paisley, can I get you a drink?”
“She doesn’t drink,” Will answered.
“But she does talk,” I snapped.
Paisley swallowed, her eyes still zeroed on Marjorie. “I’d love a lemon water, Jagger. Thank you.”
“Of course, Lee-Lee Donovan can’t be caught drinking,” Marjorie teased. “Whatever would her daddy say? Now her mama—”
“Marjorie Jenkins!” Morgan’s singsong voice was more than welcome in my ear as she came around the table, putting her purse in front of Paisley. “My goodness. Did you forget the other half of that skirt at home? I mean, I know Auburn invited you not to return, but that’s no reason to think fall didn’t actually come. That skirt looks a smidge cold for November, and a smidge trashy with that freshman twenty. Not that we don’t completely support your stress eating, bless your little heart.”
Marjorie huffed. “Morgan, fancy seeing you here, tagging after Lee and Will. Guess nothing changes there.”
“Morgan—” Carter failed to keep the peace. Personally, I was ready to find the popcorn until I saw Paisley’s face. She had her swimming face on, the one that said she’d rather be doing anything else, but she’d tough it out.
Morgan’s smile was bright…and frightening. “And imagine finding you in Oscar’s, trying to pick up flyboys to haul your ass out of Enterprise. Guess we’re both creatures of habit.”
“This shit is better than Jerry Springer,” Josh muttered, joining me at the bar.
I ordered our drinks and leaned against the counter. “She’s upsetting Paisley.”
“I thought that was your goal.”
“Pissing her off and hurting her are two different things.” And Carter wasn’t doing a damn thing to stop it.
“You are walking a fine line, Jagger.” Josh thanked the bartender for his beer and took a drink.
“It’s what I do best.”
Morgan must have finished off Marjorie, because she huffed and swayed her hips in my direction.
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