Page 87 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

I glanced down at Max, who was weaving between my legs like he owned me. “Cats don’t think. They just follow whoever feeds them.”

“Is that what you tell yourself about everything?” Pickle asked. “That it’s just about convenience? That nothing actually matters?”

Another burst of laughter came from across the tarmac. I couldn’t help myself. I looked over. Tyler was demonstrating something with his hands, probably some heroic story about battling flames, and Janna was watching him with rapt attention. Her tank top had ridden up even higher, showing off her flat tummy that my mouth had been on yesterday.

I should have left a big ass hickey on her. All over her. Inside her thighs. That belly. Her neck. Her boobs.

“Hey, Pickle, see those two firefighters hitting on Janna?”

Pickle shrugged, looking casually amused. “Tyler and Marcus? Yeah, so what?”

Fury flickered in my chest. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Pickle smirked. “Nah.”

Was he purposely trying to make me look like an idiot?

Doubtful.

My feelings weren’t rational.

I’d never felt this before. This clawing, gnawing thing in my chest that made me want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably the tall asshole who was currently making Janna laugh like he was the funniest man alive.

Was this what jealousy felt like? This irrational need to claim something that wasn’t mine? Because technically, she wasn’t mine. We’d agreed on that. No strings, no complications. Just sex when we could manage it without the whole crew finding out.

But watching her smile at those hotshots, seeing the way she leaned in when she talked to them, made me understand why people did stupid shit in the name of love. Or whatever the hell this was. I’d never been in a relationship long enough to experience this kind of territorial bullshit. Had never wanted to.

The women I’d been with before were temporary. Convenient. I could take them or leave them, and I usually chose to leave them before things got messy. Clean exits were my specialty. No drama, no tears, no begging me to stay.

But Janna? Fuck. Janna was different. She’d gotten under my skin in a way that scared the hell out of me. And now I was standing here like some lovesick teenager, ready to start a fight over a woman I basically called my fuck buddy.

The rational part of my brain—the part that had kept me alive through countless dangerous situations—was telling me to walk away. To stick to the plan. When the season was over, everyone would go back to their lives. I was here full-time but I didn’t know what her deal was. Janna and I had not talked about anything beyond tomorrow. I didn’t know shit about her and vice versa.

One of the guys flirting with Janna pulled her arm. She was giggling and it was all very G-rated, but I didn’t like it. It wasn’t rational to feel like I wanted to rip the man’s arms off and beat him with them, but fuck it.

When Janna landed in his lap, it was over. I saw red. Before I could stop myself, I walked out of the hangar and strode toward the group.

“Herc!” I heard Pickle’s warning tone, but I ignored him.

I had locked on my target. Testosterone radiated from those guys like a heat wave. I could tell they thought they were going to take our women home.

As I neared, one firefighter gave me a smile that said exactly what he had in mind. It was guy code. He was casually letting me know he had staked a claim on her for the day. Dumbass. I staked a claim on her long before his ass showed up.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked.

The laughter died on Janna’s lips as she scrambled out of Tyler’s lap, her face flushing red. Both hotshots looked up at me with expressions that shifted from confusion to challenge in about two seconds flat.

In our line of work, it was easily a five to one ratio. Five guys for every woman. Things tended to get a little tense. Usually, it didn’t happen until much later in the season, but I was pissed.

“Just having a conversation,” Tyler said, standing up slowly. He was tall, I’d give him that, but I had at least twenty pounds of muscle on him. “Problem with that?”

“Yeah, actually, there is.” I kept my voice level, but every muscle in my body was coiled tight. “The lady’s not interested.”

Janna’s eyes flashed with anger. “Excuse me? I can speak for myself.”

“Can you?” I shot back, not taking my eyes off the two assholes. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re being hassled by a couple of tourists.”

Marcus stepped forward, his chest puffed out like some peacock. “Tourists? We’re hotshots, asshole. We fight fires while you flyboys play around in the sky.”