Blue Moon (Blue Devils Book 2)

by Alana Albertson

  Stay in your lane, Sawyer.

  “What’s up.”

  She rapidly typed on her phone, inserting hashtags, locations, emojis, and gifs, all the bullshit Instagram crap. I was surprised she didn’t put a puppy filter on her face.

  Finally, she put her phone away. “Thanks for that. I get that it’s annoying, but my followers loved the posts I did earlier today about the Angels. I’m sorry—I’ll make it up to you. You look really handsome in that uniform, by the way. You have so many medals.” She blushed.

  I didn’t bother returning her compliment. She already knew she was hot and used it to her advantage. Otherwise, she wouldn’t spend her entire life posting selfies. Hell, she probably had a man. She was too beautiful to be single. And she was clearly used to getting her way. Everyone probably bent over backward for her because of her looks. I wasn’t going to be one of those guys who fell for her act.

  After a few moments in silence, she started talking again.

  “Do you like San Francisco?”

  I love San Francisco. I just wish I didn’t have to spend one of my only days in this city with you. But that’s my own damn fault. First for the dick flight path, and then for asking you out. I only have myself to blame.

  Aloud I said, “Frisco is great.”

  She gave me a condescending smile. “Just a tip—no one calls it ‘Frisco.’”

  Whatever. I’d planned to open the car door for her, but after her story stunt, I decided against it.

  I got back inside, and she climbed in next to me.

  Damn, why did she have to smell so incredible though? Like a tropical smoothie I wanted to drink down.

  She looked around the car and fidgeted.

  I glared at her. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I was just wondering if this car had a top.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course, it has a top. Do you have something against convertibles? It’s a beautiful night.”

  “I don’t, actually. They’re quite fun. But I curled my hair and plan to take more pictures tonight, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer if you put the top up, please.”

  Talk about high maintenance. This woman definitely wouldn’t be up for some wild sex—heaven forbid she got a hair out of place. “Well, lady, if you don’t like the wind blowing in your hair, you’re with the wrong man. During the flight today, you almost passed out from the G-Force. Your hair was one big rat’s nest, and your makeup sweated off, too. Plus, you puked while all your followers watched. Is there a filter for that?”

  Her eyes bulged, and she sank into her seat. “It’s okay. I understand.” She looked away, and her bottom lip quivered.

  Ah, fuck. I reluctantly pressed the button for the convertible top.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  She looked hesitant for a second, and then said, “I’m just going to add to my story really quick.”

  Jesus. She couldn’t be off her phone for a minute. This was definitely a mistake.

  After exhaling loudly, she primped her hair and smiled.

  “We’re now heading into San Francisco. DM me your questions for Sawyer.”

  Who was she? A Kardashian? Who watched this shit anyway?

  I’d been wrong about her. She must’ve been putting on an act at the base. She was exactly who I thought she would be when Beck first showed me her picture. A fake-ass, fame-hungry chick who only used people to get what she wanted. She was fucking smoking hot, no doubt, but any momentary desire I had to seduce this chick went away with her constant filming.

  Fuck. I could peace out of this date now, but I didn’t want to risk pissing her off and having it come back to bite me in the ass with Beck. So, I would take her to the gala, be civil, drop her back home, and then never see her again.

  My hands gripped the steering wheel, and I scowled at her. “Do you always do that?”

  “Do what?”

  Fuck, it was impossible to hide my disdain. “Record everything that happens to you. Does anyone actually care what you’re doing every second of the day?”

  She grinned and flashed her phone at me. “Actually, yes. I already have over a thousand views on the first story I posted minutes ago. I searched for you and didn’t see any social media. Is your account private? What’s your handle? I’ll tag you.”

  Damn, this woman was really getting on my nerves.

  “Handle? The only title that matters in my life is my call sign. I spend my life chasing highs, not posting nonsense. You media whores are the worst. I can’t believe you get paid for posting about your life.”

  There. I’d done it. I didn’t care what Beck had said. This girl was a spoiled brat. Someone had to put her in her place. And I was happy to be the man to do it.

  Her face tensed up, but instead of yelling at me, she flashed me another beautiful smile. “Yeah, I agree with you. I can’t believe I get paid for posting either. But I do, and it’s my job, and I’m lucky to have it. You may see it as stupid, but for many people, seeing my pictures brightens their day. Also, you’re a Blue Angel. Your job is to recruit for the Navy. Maybe a little boy or girl will see my stories about you and become a pilot someday. So, contrary to what you may think, there is some worth and value to my job.”

  Fuck. She’d actually put me in my place. How long had it been since a woman had done that?

  Answer: never.

  I exhaled. “It’s not just for the Navy. It’s for the Marine Corps as well. I’m a Marine. Hence the dress blue uniform.”

  “Oh, sorry about that. See, this is fascinating. Tell me more.”

  Do I have to? I just wanted to get this night over with as quickly as possible. To distract myself, I focused on the slit in her dress, exposing her luscious thigh.

  “Maybe later, Sol.”

  She squeezed my hand, and heat jolted to my cock. I accelerated as we entered the highway and took another sideways glance at her.

  Sol, I don’t blame all your followers for stalking you. We might not have a single thing in common, but you are a goddess. And, by the way, you look fucking incredible in that dress.

  Chapter 6

  Sol

  I spent the next stretch of the drive tugging at my locks, winding the strands so tightly, and biting the split ends. My hair was now tangled, which was ridiculous since I’d just given Sawyer a hard time about having the top down. I was so lame. It should have been a fantasy come true to ride in a convertible with a sexy pilot, but here I was, super worried about my curls. I needed to relax and live in the moment.

  I stared at the man in the driver’s seat. He looked so handsome. His sexy uniform and shiny medals made him look like a prince. His huge hand shifted the gear in the car, and I got wet imagining that same hand controlling my buttons.

  Unfortunately, I’d already annoyed Sawyer. He’d been short with me, had called me “lady,” and now wouldn’t even make eye contact with me, though I caught him checking me out more than a few times. He probably regretted asking me to join him for the gala. He seemed so raw and authentic, and I was as fake as store-bought salsa.

  Had I already ruined this date already by asking to record a story? How stupid was I? Of course, he was pissed—when he asked me out, he’d even told me that he wanted no cameras. I didn’t blame him for being mad at all. I hadn’t been thinking—it was second nature to record everything I did. I hadn’t realized he’d have such a strong reaction to my request.

  I hoped I could turn this night around.

  My mind raced, and I tried to come up with something to say. Nothing sounded good, so I turned my attention back to my vice—my phone.

  Wow. Two thousand views already! My fans loved Sawyer.

  Their messages popped up.

  Oh, my god! He’s so hot! Is he single?

  Good question. I definitely wanted to know about his relationship status. Plus, this would give me a chance to try and smooth things over from earlier. I cleared my throat, and he glanced over at me briefly, archin
g an eyebrow.

  “My fans want to know if you’re single.”

  Fans, Sol, your fans do. You don’t care at all, right?

  He licked his lips and undressed me with his eyes. “Yeah, as fuck. I don’t have relationships. Ever. You?”

  I sucked in a breath. I wasn’t used to men swearing openly in front of me. I was a virginal pageant girl, proper as a princess. To be sitting next to a man so raw and unrefined rattled me. Even so, he sent my fantasies into overdrive. I bet he was a real-life dirty talker. I’d never dated a man with such a filthy mouth. I was such a good girl, but sometimes I wanted to be bad.

  “Yup. I’m focusing on my career right now.”

  He laughed. Great. He saw my career as a joke. But I expected that, and frankly, I felt like a joke, too. So, I shrugged it off and moved on to the next question.

  “Someone wants to know how to become a Blue Angel pilot.”

  He smirked. “Be the best pilot in the Marine Corps.”

  Wow, modest much? He had definitely acted nicer back on the base, but maybe that was just because it had been a work obligation. So then why had he asked me out on a date if he’d disliked me? Or maybe he’d been interested after the flight but then changed his mind after I filmed that story. Yeah, I’d totally blown it.

  I hate myself.

  I typed the answer to my followers and then finally put my phone away. I had to find out if there was a decent man under his cocky exterior.

  He eyed me curiously.

  “You sure you want to put your phone away? We can mount it on the dashboard so people can see our every move. I can sing songs if they like. In fact, I can even serenade you with ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling.’”

  Yes! Do that!

  But he was clearly mocking me. I couldn’t help feeling a little hurt, but I tried to keep that to myself.

  “Funny. But if you’re game, that would make a great story. It would go viral for sure. Let’s do it.” I tried my best to keep my tone lighthearted and fun.

  He didn’t laugh. This was so awkward. Like one of those Tinder dates from hell where the guy was super-hot, but you had nothing in common. Time to switch gears. “I read you’re from Iowa. Do you miss it?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Thanks for the non-answer, buddy. Why was he being so vague? I turned and gazed out the window, rolling my eyes so he couldn’t see.

  At least we were now driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, so I focused on the view. As we were stopped in the usual bridge traffic, I considered getting out of the car. Not to jump off the bridge or anything crazy, but I could definitely call an Uber to get a ride home. And take an amazing picture of the city at night for my feed.

  Focus, Sol.

  I tried again.

  “I was born and raised in Marin. I love it here. There are so many beautiful places to hike. It’s super diverse, too. Weather is usually great, though it can get chilly. Great restaurants, world-class ballet, opera, and symphony. What’s not to love?”

  He sneered, and his voice turned bitter. “The people. Every year the residents protest our air show—calling us warmongers who spread hate. Claiming we could crash into buildings and kill people, which is ridiculous. Like we’re fucking terrorists instead of the people who protect this country. The locals here have no respect for our military.”

  Well, he was right about one thing—there was a massive protest planned this weekend during the air show. I could see and relate to both viewpoints. Maybe I could help Sawyer understand why they felt the way they did.

  “I hear what you’re saying, and that must frustrate you, for sure. But the Bay Area is very liberal, and the Blue Angels are a recruiting tool for the military, so that’s off-putting to the many residents who want to live in peace and harmony.”

  Sawyer tightened his grip around the stick shift. Even the beauty of the city lights couldn’t distract me from his rage. I could almost feel the heat in his words when he spoke. “Peace? What the fuck do you know about peace? I’ve been in combat, have you? It’s great to live in your delusional little community while the real men and women fight for your freedom to be vapid narcissists on social media. You don’t think we’d like peace? That we like risking our lives at war? What should we do when countries are bombing innocent civilians overseas? Or planning terrorist attacks on our soil? There’s no such thing as negotiating with terrorists—we’ve tried talking to them. It doesn’t work, lady.”

  Wow. His disdain for me and my hometown hung thick in the air. I should be livid, but I wasn’t. I strongly disagreed with his viewpoint and even more so with his delivery, but my time on the pageant circuit had taught me to kill people with kindness. So that was precisely what I’d do, whether he liked it or not.

  “I understand and respect your viewpoint. But Sawyer, just so you know, I’m not a vapid narcissist. I truly care for others, and I give so much of my time to charity. If you got to know me, you’d see that. We can use these photos of the Angels to demonstrate the beauty and honor of what you do to the Bay Area. But the way you’re speaking to me, and about my community, will not endear you to them, or me. And frankly, it’s unacceptable. I won’t tolerate it. If you continue to call me names and cuss at me, I won’t even do the rest of the posts I agreed to.”

  Unsurprisingly, he didn’t respond or make eye contact. I bit my lip and willed myself not to cry. I tried so hard to be a good person, and I hated how people saw me. It wasn’t just Sawyer; the trolls online were always so intense. Most days, I wanted to delete my profile, move to a mountain cabin, and retreat from the world. But I couldn’t quit. This was my job. My life. My sole source of income. I had to deal with the monster I’d created.

  We were now driving in the Marina District, and I glanced over at Sawyer a few times. He opened his mouth and looked at me as if he wanted to say something but instead of speaking, just closed it. After a long stretch of silence, he pulled over into a rare open parking space on the street. Sad to say but that parking space was probably the best thing that had happened to me on this date.

  “Look, I hate doing the media flights we did today. Normally, I can get out of them, but this time my commanding officer forced me to do it. You seemed really sweet, and of course, you’re beautiful, so I asked you to the gala because I wanted to get to know you better. I didn’t appreciate you videotaping us when I picked you up. I don’t want to sound pathetic, but I felt like you were using the Angels and me. It just set me off.”

  Videotaped? Oh, he meant when I recorded a story. I didn’t want to make this situation worse and explain the difference, because either way, I’d messed up. A lump grew in my throat. Dammit—no wonder he felt used. Why had I done that? I could totally understand where he was coming from, and I appreciated him being honest with me.

  “I’m so sorry, Sawyer. I wasn’t even thinking. I usually record my entire day. I wasn’t trying to use you. I was really excited about this date, but I totally blew it.”

  His hand grazed my cheek. “It’s cool. I’m sorry I overreacted. I’m very private. I don’t even have any social media accounts, so it’s hard for me to understand. My entire world is flying, and the Marine Corps is my life, so I tend to lose it when people try to flip the narrative and say we’re a bunch of savages. But I shouldn’t take that out on you.”

  “It’s okay. I get it. You’re a highly decorated military pilot and definitely deserve respect.”

  “Thank you. And it’s not okay. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been talking to you, Sol. Let me make it up to you.”

  I pursed my lips and nodded, feeling proud that I stood up for myself and remained calm, even though all I wanted to do was go home, draw myself a hot bath, and cry.

  He looked toward a bunch of local shops in the distance. “Hey, do you want to stop and get some coffee before we head to the gala?”

  Yes! Coffee! That was just what I needed to take the edge off. Well, a glass of rosé would’ve been my first choice, but coffee would do for now.
r />   “That sounds perfect. I could use a vanilla latte.” With pretty latte art so I can post a picture. I smiled at him again and decided to keep that desire to myself.

  He opened his car door and then walked over to my side to open mine.

  “Thank you.” He gave me a cocky grin in return, and I couldn’t help blushing.

  We walked to a neighborhood coffee shop and ordered. After he paid, his attention focused on something outside, but I couldn’t see what it was.

  “Hey, I’m going to step out for one second. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait for our drinks.”

  Once he was out of sight, I grabbed my phone and made a quick call to Kelli.

  “Hey. How’s Sawyer? He’s gorgeous, especially in that uniform. Your followers are freaking out! Engagement is through the roof.”

  “He’s hot for sure, but I already pissed him off by filming that story of him when he picked me up. And I found out that his commanding officer forced him to take me on the flight today. I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

  Kelli exhaled. “Oh no, that’s unfortunate. I’d assumed since he was an Angel, he’d be An Officer and A Gentleman.”

  I rolled my eyes. Sometimes Kelli could be so cheesy. I preferred that to her nagging though. “Well, he’s an officer, but not a gentleman. He’s rough around the edges and definitely not what I expected. I wonder what his backstory is.”

  “Find out and story it.”

  “No. Not doing that again. He’s not into Instagram—he doesn’t even have an account. Can you believe that? But I want to find out more about him for myself. He intrigues me. Did I mention he’s gorgeous?”

  “Yes. Kiss his ass so you can get more photos with him. Make sure to get a bunch of pictures at the gala.”

  My heart sank. No, I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to use him. “I’ll see. Bye.”

  Our coffees finally arrived, but there was still no sign of Sawyer. Maybe he’d ditched me.

  I took a picture of our drinks then carried them to a small table and sat down. Alone. Like I always was. Only a warm beverage to comfort me.