How did she ever think he was a boring stick-in-the-mud? This man was fun and exciting—
“Will you stop bouncing up and down, please?” His voice sounded exasperated coming through her headphones. “You’re messing with my ballast.”
—and still a grumpy little Boy Scout. But a cute one. And his fussy side suited him.
“Get closer,” she called. “The plane keeps flying out of my pipper.”
He sighed. “You know, it isn’t as easy as it looks to—”
“Got him!” she shouted at the same time the beeping noise signaled another successful shoot down. She fell back into her seat and flexed her finger. She’d been clutching that trigger so tightly, it had started to cramp. But they’d done it. All four bogies eliminated. “Can we take a victory loop before we go down?”
“Your wish is my command.” Dax throttled up and pulled back on the yoke. They made a lazy vertical circle, Lissa laughing with glee the whole way.
“I didn’t mean upside down,” she said.
“No, but an upside-down victory loop suits you.”
Dax radioed in to Sky Combat and received permission to come down. His landing was butter soft, and Lissa was struck again by how talented Dax was. Really, she couldn’t have picked a better man to hitch a ride with.
He taxied to the end of the tarmac and pulled in beside the Red Baron. Popping open the cockpit door, Dax slid off the wing to the ground, then came around to help Lissa down.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and jumped from the plane. He caught her around the waist with a startled laugh and set her on the ground. His hands remained on her hips.
“Thank you!” She threw her arms around him and squeezed tight. “That was amazing. You can insult any of my paintings anytime you want.”
“That’s hardly likely to happen.” He ran one broad palm up her spine, the fabric of her thin T-shirt rising with his hand. “But I’m glad you had fun.”
Her skin tingled, and she didn’t know if it was from Dax or from the adrenaline high of the dogfight. But it didn’t matter. She felt good. Dax had made her feel good. And she wanted to return the favor.
Arching her head back, she rolled up onto her toes and brushed her mouth against his. He tasted of mint and coffee and she wanted to kiss him forever. He sucked gently on her upper lip, sending sparks right down her spine. She pressed her body closer, but it wasn’t enough. Gripping the back of his head, she jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist. Supporting her under her butt, Dax walked her backward until she hit the side of the plane.
She pulled her head back, breathless. “I had a really good time.”
Dax blinked, looking adorably disheveled. “I can see that.”
Someone cleared his throat behind Dax.
Dax turned and let Lissa slip to the ground. “Oh. Hi, Jace. Want some help putting these birds away?”
“That would be great.” The man who’d piloted the first plane Lissa had shot down nodded at her. “Good job up there.”
“Thanks.” She looked at the old-school military airplane she’d been up in and tapped its side. “Uh, do you need help pushing it into the garage?”
Both men grinned. “No, we’ve got it,” Dax said.
“’Kay. The ladies’ room?” she asked Jace.
He pointed. “Just around the other side of the garage.”
She trotted off to take care of business. When she came back, the planes were gone and voices came from the building she guessed wasn’t called a garage. Was it a terminal for such a small airport?
She strolled inside, meaning to ask Dax about the proper terminology. If she was going to do this again, and she was, that was something she should know.
“Thanks again,” Dax said. His voice came from behind the bright red plane. “You did a good job hanging out there like a ripe apple waiting to be plucked.”
“Do you think she suspected?”
“Nah,” Dax said. “She thought we were that good.”
Lissa rounded the nose of the plane. “Suspected what?”
Dax blew out his cheeks; Jace looked at the cement floor.
Dax shuffled forward. “Nothing. You ready to go?”
Dipping her chin, she examined Dax’s guilty expression. She looked around at the four planes she’d faux-shot out of the sky. “You dirty rat.” She shook her head. “You asked them to take a fall, didn’t you?”
“What? I would never …”
“Really,” Jace said. “You were amazing up there. A real killer.”
Lissa rolled her eyes. “All right, now you’re just rubbing it in.” She strolled up to Dax and lightly punched his gut. “I don’t have to win to have fun.”
He picked up one of her curls, stretched it out, and released it. “But it doesn’t hurt, right?”
She pressed her lips together, fighting her smile. Keeping her gaze locked with Dax’s, Lissa said to Jace, “You guys hungry? I’m taking this one out to dinner and you’re all invited. My treat.”
“Sweet,” Jace said. “I’ll tell the others.” He sauntered off to the office.
“You don’t have to pay for these bozos.” Dax frowned. “You don’t have to pay for me. I’ll get dinner.”
There went the grumpy grandpa again. She lost her battle with her smile. For a modern guy, Dax had some old-fashioned ideas. “You and these fakers just gave me the thrill of a lifetime. I’m getting dinner. And that’s that.”
Dax grumbled, and she hooked her arm around his waist and turned him toward the exit. “Stop moaning. Bottom line: Are these guys your friends?”
They stepped into the sunlight, and she shaded her eyes to look up at him.
“Yeah.”
“Then they’re my friends, too.” She tugged him to where the other pilots stood by the front door, discussing where to eat. “And friends buy each other meals as thank-yous. Deal with it.”
Dax hugged her into his side and rested his chin on the top of her head. They stood there a second, listening to the other men bicker. It was a pretty perfect moment. Lissa should know. She collected good moments. Collected them, and then moved on to the next one.
Her desire for dinner disappeared, her appetite dwindling away to nothing. She didn’t know if she wanted to move on this time. She knew what to do with friends: go out to dinner, joke around, have fun. And she knew what to do with flings.
But what did a woman do with someone who was becoming something more than a friend?
Chapter 11
Dax bobbed his knee up and down and stared out the window of the waiting room. He tugged at the knot in his tie.
The administrative assistant behind the lacquered ebony desk looked up from her computer and gave him a small smile. As if she could tell just how out of place Dax felt in the back rooms of Crook County United. As if she knew he didn’t belong here, begging for money.
His phone chimed in his pocket. Placing his folder with the proposal in it on the chair next to him, he dug out his cell.
And smiled.
A string of emojis—crossed fingers, hearts, and fireworks—filled the text message Lissa had sent him.
His thumbs flew over his phone. Either you’re wishing me luck or you’re asking me to take you to the Founder’s Day fireworks show. That won’t be for another couple of months. You’ll have to stick around in Pineville longer if you want to go.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he waited for her reply. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he only had about four more weeks left with Lissa. If she stuck around the full time before her classes started. Knowing her, she could disappear tomorrow with only a note written on her motel mirror in lipstick, saying the stars had told her to move on.
The bubble with three dots appeared on his screen, and Dax leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he waited for her response.
&
nbsp; Luck, even though you don’t need it. You’ll have that bank guy throwing money at you by the end of your meeting. That’s what the fireworks meant. Total success is in your future.
Another bubble, more dots.
Although I wouldn’t mind seeing those fireworks with you. Maybe I’ll come back for Founder’s Day. Marla said I could crash at her cabin any time, and it is SWEET.
Something fluttered deep in Dax’s stomach. She was thinking about coming back for visits? Maybe … well, obviously whatever they had going on now couldn’t last. Lissa flitted from place to place like a butterfly, and that probably applied to her boyfriends, too. She had too much spark and spirit to limit herself to just one person.
But Dax really liked her. He hoped they’d keep in touch. Stay friends, at least.
How do you know what Marla’s cabin looks like? he asked. Dax had been there a couple of times for parties. It was about thirty miles outside of town on the shores of Lake St. Marie. And even though Marla called it a cabin, the house hardly qualified as such. “Mansion” might be a better word. Five bedrooms, six baths, large pool, solarium … The list of amenities went on and on. Rustic it was not.
Marla, Iz, and I are here now, drinking margaritas and kicking back in the sun. Join us after your meeting?
Dax blew out a breath, his shoulders slumping. An afternoon hanging with Lissa and the girls would be great, but it wasn’t in the cards.
Can’t. Have to go back to work after this. Dinner tonight?
Of course. But I’m going to miss you today …
“Mr. Cannon? Dax?”
Dax started at the voice. He looked up past shiny Oxford shoes, over navy slacks with creases in them so sharp they looked like they could cut glass, to Ted Cooke’s face.
Dax jumped to his feet, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He straightened the knot at his collar, uncomfortably aware of the differences in their attire. Dax had hoped his sports jacket and tie would be enough to make his cargo pants and hiking boots look respectable. He hadn’t had many options. The one pair of nice shoes and slacks he’d owned hadn’t survived Brad’s wedding. Not with the impromptu limbo session that had ended in a mud pit. But he’d thought his business casual look might be respectable enough to induce someone to hand over a large pile of cash.
Until faced with Ted Cooke’s impeccable appearance. The loan officer made a quick up-and-down perusal of Dax’s wardrobe choice, making Dax’s stomach twist and roll, as if he was back in a dogfight.
Damn, was this what it was like being a girl, worrying over clothes? He drew his shoulders back. Screw it. He was a man, damn it. Men didn’t care about such crap. And besides, he wanted to own an adventure company. Hiking boots were part of his uniform.
He stuck out his hand. “Hi, Mr. Cooke. Thanks again for rescheduling. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” The loan officer’s handshake was firm and brief. “And please, call me Ted. Let’s go into my office, shall we?”
Dax grabbed his folder and plodded after the man. His hand itched to adjust his tie again, but he clenched the folder more tightly.
Ted closed the door behind them and pointed at the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
Dax plopped down and hooked his right ankle over his left knee. He bobbed his leg up and down as the loan officer circled his desk.
“So,” the man said, sinking into his leather chair, “I understand you want to buy a business.”
Dax planted both feet on the ground and scooted forward. “Yes. Off-Road Adventures. One of the few eco-tourism companies in central Michigan.” He opened his folder and handed his proposal across the desk. It was neatly bound with a plastic cover over the front, thanks to Lissa’s dragging him to a copy shop to print it out. “As I told you on the phone, I’ve been working for the company for going on eight years now. Not only am I a guide, but I help the owner with the books and manage the company when he’s away on vacation. It’s a small business and I know all the ins and outs. But I also have ideas on how to grow it.”
His heart pounded as Ted flipped through his paperwork. He was passing through the pages that represented all Dax’s dreams awfully quickly. And why wasn’t the loan officer getting out a calculator to run Dax’s numbers? Dax had spent hours triple- and quadruple-checking his math. If Ted was considering giving him a loan, wouldn’t he want to know Dax’s calculations were solid?
Dax swallowed. “In the back, I’ve attached a letter from the current owner. He knows I’m responsible and thinks I’ll be successful in taking over his business.”
“Yes …” Ted flipped to the back, eyed the letter for half a second, and flipped back to one of Lissa’s pie charts. “I saw a similar letter yesterday when your coworker was in here applying for his loan.”
Dax’s heart sank to the soles of his boots. Jesse had written Christian a letter, too? He ground his jaw. It only made sense, he told himself. Jesse wanted to sell, and more recommendations might increase his chances of one of them getting the loan.
But it still felt like a slap in the face.
He needed to differentiate himself from Christian. “I worked for Off-Road Adventures for three years before my coworker came onboard. I have more experience and have higher guide ratings than anyone who’s ever worked for the company.”
Ted slid his tongue along his top row of teeth. “And how old were you when you started working for Off-Road? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-one.” Dax’s shoulder blades inched together.
“What’s your highest educational degree?” Ted tapped a pen on his desk and looked at Dax expectantly.
“I went to two years of college at Oregon State with a three point average.” Blood pounded behind his temples. It couldn’t come down to a piece of paper. He’d learned on the job what he needed to know, from accounting to marketing. Two more years at college wouldn’t have taught him anything more that would help run this business.
“I see. But no degree?”
Dax exhaled slowly. “No degree. But a lot of successful businesspeople don’t have college degrees. Look at Mark Zuckerberg or Bill Gates or Steve Jobs. You wouldn’t deny them a loan because they didn’t graduate from college, would you?”
“Considering one of those men is dead and the other two could buy the entire state of Michigan, I don’t think it’s a question I’ll ever need to answer,” Ted said dryly. He sighed and closed the proposal. “Look, I’ll go over your numbers, but I’ve got to say you’re a high-risk investment. A degree, especially a business degree, would have helped. The owner: he’ll be carrying the rest of your note?”
Dax jerked his head in the affirmative. Dax needed the loan from the bank for the down payment, but the bulk of his debt would be with Jesse. The man had agreed to a low interest rate and very generous payment terms. “The business owner has a lot of faith that I’ll pay him on time. You can, too.”
“Maybe.” Ted folded his hands together. “But the main issue we have is your criminal record. Everyone knows of your conviction. That’s a red flag.”
A dull throb beat behind one eye, and Dax pressed his finger into it. His stupid pirate flag stunt was going to torpedo his chances of getting a loan. He wasn’t going to get Off-Road Adventures and he had no one to blame but himself. All because he’d been a jackass who couldn’t turn down a friend’s dare.
He swallowed past his thick throat. “It was a stupid prank. Hardly the act of a hardened criminal.”
“I know that.” Ted placed his elbows on his desk. “But it shows a lack of judgment. Of responsibility. You’re asking for fifty thousand dollars. That’s not an amount our bank likes to hand out to people who play childish pranks.”
Dax gripped the armrests of his chair, his fingernails digging into the fabric. “It was almost two years ago. I’ve been an exemplary citizen during my probation. Even Judge Nichols would attest
to that.” He forced a long, even breath out from between his lips, trying to focus on the goal. “What if I got another letter, this one from the judge? If even the judge who sentenced me thinks I’m a responsible citizen, that would have to have some weight. Right?”
Ted cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps.” He sat back and tapped a pen against his lips. “When does your probation end?”
“In two months.”
Ted nodded. “Like I said, I still have to run through your numbers. See if your projections make sense. If they do, I might be able to convince the manager to offer you the loan.”
Dax scooted to the edge of his seat. His phone dinged, but he ignored it.
Ted held up a hand. “But I’ll want to see that letter from the judge, and the loan would be conditional on your finishing your probation without any further run-ins with the law. We would add a clause that would make any loan due and payable immediately upon any legal infraction.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Not wanting to give the man a chance to change his mind, Dax stuck his hand across the desk and shook the heck out of the loan officer’s. “I’ll get that letter to you pronto”—he hoped, just as soon as he sweet-talked Judge Nichols into providing it—“and you’ll see, I’m really a very responsible person now.”
His phone dinged again. Frowning, he pulled it from his pocket to silence it. It slipped from his fingers and tumbled to Ted’s desk.
With a picture of Lissa in a bikini holding a margarita smiling up at them. Whoever had taken the picture had gotten a great action shot. The photo captured the moment when the lime-green liquid was sloshing over the glass’s wide rim, and a good amount of the margarita had already soaked Lissa’s fire-engine-red bikini top.
Ted’s eyebrows shot up. “Responsible, huh?”
Cheeks hot, Dax plucked the phone up and shoved it back in his pocket. “Just a friend having fun at a friend’s pool.”
“That’s a lot of friends.” Ted sniffed. “Needless to say, incidence of drunkenness also wouldn’t help your cause.”
Forever Wild Page 11
