Page 51 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“I know what you’re going to say.” She moved close enough to touch, her hand coming up to rest against my chest. “That it’s complicated. That we work together. That you don’t do relationships.”

Her palm was warm against my skin, right over the tattoo of the C-130. “All of that’s true,” I said.

“Don’t add a but to that statement. Leave it alone. Eat your breakfast and then I need you to do something for me.”

I smirked. “Demanding little princess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not that. I need a ride. I want to go see a friend. My rental was picked up yesterday so I’m wheel-less.”

I blinked. “You just got here. You already have friends?”

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s how it works when you’re not a prickly Peter. When you know how to talk to people.”

I couldn’t resist and leaned in close. “Why talk when I can use my tongue for other purposes?”

She visibly shuddered. I smiled and took my plate to sit at the table.

“So, uh, was that a yes?”

“Sure,” I said. “After we eat.”

We finished breakfast, grabbed some to-go mugs of coffee, and headed out to my truck. She directed me along winding back roads, out past the edge of Hollow Gorge. It didn’t take me long to figure out where we were headed.

“Sullivan Farm?” I said. “You’re friends with Martha Sullivan?”

“Met her at the diner,” she said casually. “She mentioned something I couldn’t resist.”

We parked near a big red barn. I’d been out to the farm a few times over the years. Martha’s pies were legendary. She welcomed everyone. At the end of the season, she always put on a big feast to thank us for keeping her home and business safe.

Martha and Joe stepped out of the barn. Martha had her usual bright smile.

“I’m glad you made it,” Martha said and hugged Janna.

Joe shook my hand. “Good season so far?”

“So far,” I said. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Ready to check it out?” Martha asked Janna.

I frowned, wondering what it was we were doing. What the hell was Janna checking out? A goat? Apple trees? Was she graduating from cookie baking to pie making?

“It’s in here,” Joe said and started walking to a different barn that looked like it might fall down any day.

I followed behind the group and of course I couldn’t stop looking at Janna’s ass in those cutoff shorts. I wasn’t sure if she wore them to tempt me. I doubted it. She was just that sexy. Not everything is about you, Dalton.

Joe pulled open the big doors. I quickly sprang into action to help him. And that’s when I saw what had gotten Janna out here. I had to shake my head. She truly was a pilot. It was the fabric of her being.

The sunlight hit a beautiful, battered, ancient biplane. Yellow paint flaking. An honest-to-God crop duster, tucked away in a barn ready to claim it. The plane had seen better days but it was still a work of art.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

“I know,” Janna breathed.

“We’ll be out and around,” Martha said, gesturing outside vaguely. “Let me know what you think. We might just need to junk the thing.”

“No!” Janna and I both said at the same time.

Joe and Martha laughed and walked away. They were rambling about pilots.