Page 35 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

She snorted. “Actually, same. I’m not a fan of those Boeing 737s. Or anything similar.”

“I don’t like being a passenger. Never have. I’d rather be the one in control.”

She glanced at me over her shoulder, her smirk widening. “So, what you’re saying is, you’re a control freak?”

“I’m saying I don’t trust anyone else to keep me alive,” I shot back.

“Aw, Dalton,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not even a little,” I said.

She laughed, the sound light and carefree, like she didn’t have a worry in the world. It was infuriating. “Well, that’s too bad. Because you’re stuck with me for the next hour.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered.

She adjusted the controls slightly. “You know, if you relaxed a little, you might actually enjoy this. If we had a radio, I would let you pick the music.”

“I’m plenty relaxed,” I lied.

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not buying it. “You’re all tense and twitchy, just waiting for something to go wrong.”

“Because something could go wrong,” I pointed out.

“But it won’t,” she said confidently. “Because I’m an amazing pilot.”

I rolled my eyes. “Modest too.”

She grinned. “Modesty is overrated.”

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. She was impossible and way too sure of herself. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“You know if you keep frowning, your face is going to get stuck that way.”

“Good,” I said. “Then maybe people will stop bothering me.”

She laughed again. “You’re such a grump.”

“Pay attention,” I snapped.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re such a buzzkill. We’re soaring through the air with some of the prettiest landscapes around and you’re frowning. Lighten up, buttercup.”

Buttercup?

“It’s difficult when my pilot acts like she’s joyriding.”

“I’m just flying,” she said.

“If you want to survive a real wildfire, you’ll listen when I tell you something matters. Now, ten fucking degrees to the east.”

She didn’t respond, but she adjusted her flight path anyway. We crested the next ridge, flying tight through a narrow canyon. A gust threw us a little sideways. I could see the telltale gray clouds in the distance. I had considered delaying the flight, but if she couldn’t handle a little rainstorm, she wasn’t going to cut it. We hit a little more turbulence, telling me the storm was definitely coming our way.

“You good?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“You’re too close to the ridge,” I barked.

“We had clearance.”

“Not enough.”