“That would be appreciated.”
With his fork, Stryder scoops up a bite of my pancakes and says, “Nellis Air Force Base is right outside of Vegas, you know. I could contact Colby to help you move.”
“No, no, no.” I wave my hand. “Not necessary. My dad is going to help me move. You don’t need to bother Colby.”
Rory places her hand on Stryder’s forearm, leaning forward in her chair again, her eyes filling with excitement. “No, that’s a good idea. At least Stryder can let Colby know you’re going there. He could keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not corrupted by a pimp.”
It’s almost impossible to hold back the giant eye-roll that threatens to take over my eyes, but I do.
“I’m not going to be corrupted by a pimp, and please don’t contact him. I’ll be fine. I need to do this on my own.”
“But it’s Vegas.”
I lean over and take my friend’s hand in mine. “And I’ll be fine. I promise.” I will, because it’s my time. It’s time to make my life make a difference. Las Vegas, here I come.
Chapter Seventy-Three
COLBY
“Who you texting, Flyer?” Balboa’s deep voice booms from over my shoulder, startling the piss out of me.
My phone fumbles between my hands as I try to calm the jump-start in my heart.
“Christ.” I turn toward him. “No one.” Lie. I was about to text his sister.
“Is that right?” He eyes my phone. “Let me see your phone.”
“Why?”
“Yeah, why?” Bent asks, walking up to the briefing desk where Colt is checking out the weather for the day.
“Word on the street is, he asked for my sister’s number.”
“You did?” Rowdy asks, setting his helmet on the counter. “I thought you said your sister is off limits.”
“She is, especially to you.”
Rowdy holds up his hands. “Why me? I’m a gentleman. I treat a lady well.”
“Says the guy who scooted his date out the door at midnight.”
Rowdy likes to think he’s a gentleman, when really he’s a dick.
“She wanted to cuddle.” Rowdy shrugs. “I don’t do that shit.”
Turning back to me, Bent nudges my shoulder, his harness clanking with his movements. “So, were you about to text her?”
Knowing I can’t get out of his inquisition, I say, “Yep.”
“Oooo.” Rowdy drums the counter with his index finger knuckle. “Looks like Flyer is about to get the Balboa treatment.” Rowdy leans past the muscular mass in front of him and says, “Good luck, man, he packs a hefty punch.”
Jaw shifting back and forth, his eyes narrowing in on me, he says, “It’s about goddamn time. She’s been asking me for the last two days if you were going to text her. I’m sick of it.” He pulls a pen from behind his ear and starts making notes in his notebook about the weather report.
“What?” Rowdy asks. “What’s this bullshit? You’re letting Flyer take out your sister? What happened to the beatdown mentioned, how no one is allowed to ask her out?”
Not even lifting his head, Balboa says, “I know he won’t do anything stupid, unlike you.”
That’s very true.
“I was going to see if she was available tonight,” I answer, turning back to my phone.
Balboa makes a final note, clicks his pen, then turns toward me and presses the pen to my chest. “Just don’t fuck around with her. She’s special. Got it?”
“Yeah. Got it.”
Balboa gives me a curt nod before walking away, leaving Rowdy grumbling about something incoherently.
Focusing on my phone, I type out a text.
Colby: Hey, sorry about the delay in our date. Things have been busy here at the base. Are you available tonight?
I press send and then listen to Colt and Bent talk about our training for the day and the clear skies we get to fly in with moderate wind. Should be a piece of cake. At this point, nothing fazes me when I’m in the cockpit. That happens once you’ve been deployed a few times overseas, thrown into the thick of things, into an entirely different terrain than you train in. Today seems like a flying day I could do with my eyes closed. But I never allow myself to feel that cocky. It can only take a moment of lack of concentration for something to go very wrong.
“Ten minutes, boys,” Bent says, slapping his hand on the counter. “I’m going to take a leak.”
Rookie mistake since he’s already strapped into his gear.
“What are you going to do with Balboa’s sister?” Rowdy asks, knocking me in the shoulder.
I rest my arms on the counter and turn my head in Rowdy’s direction. “Not sure. I told her I would show her around town.”
“Town, or base? Because you could walk the grounds of Nellis with no problem, but navigating Vegas, good luck, man. You know nothing.”
He’s got me there. We were transferred here a year ago from Tyndall, and I’ve spent most of my time on base, never exploring Vegas because it’s not my scene. So offering to be a tour guide for Sage might have been a bad idea.
“I can make it work. I’m not worried.”
Growing serious, Colt asks, “Is this like a real date? Because I can’t remember the last time you took a girl out.”
“Sure,” I answer casually, not wanting to be ribbed by the guys.
“It better be a date, because Balboa will have your ass if it’s anything other than that.”
My phone beeps in my hands. Lifting off the counter, I say, “He has nothing to worry about. Meet you guys out there.”
I throw my helmet bag over my shoulder and open up the text with one hand.
Sage: I hate to look like I have nothing going on in my life, but in all honesty, I have nothing going on in my life, so I’m available tonight. Don’t judge me.
I chuckle to myself and answer her back.
Colby: No judgment. How about I pick you up around seven?
Sage: Works great. I can dress casually, right? I’m not much of a nightclub girl.
Colby: Good, I hate nightclubs. Casual is good. See you at seven.
Sage: Fly safe.
I pause when I read her text message, a little flutter taking flight in my stomach. Fly safe. I can’t remember the last time someone said that to me, someone of the opposite sex. I also can’t remember the last time I felt this type of . . . joy? I haven’t been celibate since moving to Vegas, but I certainly haven’t dated. My commitment to the Air Force hasn’t deviated, and has been my priority. Fly safe.
I pocket my phone, a smile on my face. This feels good.
* * *
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a truck this high,” Sage says, taking in my vehicle. “It’s very tall.”
It’s not that tall but then again, she’s short.
“I’ve had it since college. I guess I’m used to it now.”
“Well, it’s much bigger than my little Honda Civic.” She glances at me. “I bet you wouldn’t fit in the car just like Rocky. His head touches the ceiling.”
I chuckle and pull out onto the road. “Balboa is a huge dude. Still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you came from the same parents.”
“It takes people some time.” She pauses and then says, “Full disclosure. I’m wearing a ton of sunscreen right now.” She pushes her glasses up on her nose and then twists her hands together. “I didn’t want you to think what’s that smell? It’s my sunblock. I have very fair skin but wanted to wear something nice today that wasn’t going to make me all sweaty, so I put on a ton of sunscreen earlier.”
My lips pull to the side, a smile forming. “Well, I wasn’t wondering what that smell was, but just to put your mind at ease and not wanting skin cancer is a valid thing, so . . . uh, good job wearing your sunblock.”
“Thank you.” She smooths out her baby-blue sundress and lets out a light sigh. “Can I be honest with you?”
The truck comes to a halt at a stop sign, so with one arm on the steering whe
el, I glance in her direction, my aviators blocking my eyes when I say, “Of course.”
“I, uh, I don’t go on many dates, so I might not be very good at this.”
When I first met Sage, I sensed innocence about her. She was quiet, a little awkward, and not very outgoing. When she came to my door, I saw a little bit more of her personality, but still reserved. Her confession doesn’t shock me.
It actually almost seems like she’s the female version of myself. Reserved, quiet at times, awkward when the moment is right. This date should be interesting.
“Don’t worry,” I say, driving off base. “I don’t date often either. So we can both be rusty together.”
“Really?” I catch her hopeful look.
“Really. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Sage. I’m not like the other pilots.”
“I guess you’re not. You carry around a grocery list. My brother doesn’t carry one around and since I’ve moved in, I’ve seen him bring home two different girls.”
I’ve seen Balboa in the bars. He’s just as much of a player as the rest of them, but I don’t mention that to Sage, because I’m sure that’s information she doesn’t want confirmed.
“Balboa is definitely not someone who carries around a grocery list.”
“Well, I’m glad we established that we both don’t date. That makes me less nervous.”
Me too. I’m not good at this shit. The only serious relationship I had was with Rory and that was over six years ago. She was the one who pulled me out of my shell. She was the outgoing one who kept our relationship interesting and refreshing. I followed her lead.
If Sage is like me, does that mean one of us is going to have to step up and be the outgoing one?
I sure as hell hope it doesn’t have to be me.
Looking out the window, Sage says, “Do you have any plans?”
“I have an idea.” I chuckle to myself. “I guess it’s my turn to be honest too.”
“Oh?” Sage faces me.
With my arm propped on the driver’s door, I play with the small hairs at the back of my neck. “When I asked to show you around, I wasn’t thinking about how I know really nothing about the city. I kind of stick to base and stick to myself. I’ve only been out a few times when the guys force me.”
“Are you a homebody?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
She motions to her body. “You heard me say the amount of sunscreen I put on. Of course I’m a homebody. I love grilling up a steak and watching a movie.”
“Wait, what?” My brow pinches together. “You grill up a steak?”
“Of course. Rocky taught me everything I know, and it really chaps his butt that I’m better at grilling than he is now. And before you ask, I do it all. I season, I marinate, and I stand there hovering over the grate, beer in hand, watching intently as my meat cooks.”
I can’t help it, I let out a low chuckle. I drag my hand over my mouth and say, “Not to sound like an insensitive ass, but I never would have expected you to say that.”
“Don’t worry, I get it. I look more like a tea and crumpets girl. But don’t let my image throw you for a loop. I like to grill.”
I nod, mulling over that information. “You know what that means?”
“I’m going to have to make you a steak sometime.”
“Exactly.” I turn toward her and something takes over me as I flirtatiously wink and garner a smile from her.
Maybe I can do this . . . dating thing.
* * *
“That was weird,” Sage says, walking next to me.
“Just a little.” I feel a wave of embarrassment run from the base of my spine to my cheeks, spreading quickly. “For the record, I thought it was a good idea at first. Cross it off your bucket list.”
“Yeah.” She clasps her hands together in front of her. “You sure can eat a lot.”
I press my lips together, wishing I could redo this. Am I really that out of practice? I guess it’s been a long time since I had to come up with amazing date ideas. Sage is right; that was really weird. Taking a girl out for the first time to a Vegas-style all-you-can-eat buffet was not the best idea.
I awkwardly pat my flat stomach. “Had to get my money’s worth.” The smile on her face barely reaches her eyes. Shit. “I’m sorry that guy took a chicken wing off your plate.”
She nods. “That was the really weird part. I know it was all you can eat, but I don’t think they intended people to eat off strangers’ plates.”
“Definitely not.” I nudge her shoulder, hoping I really didn’t ruin this night. “I might have done some poor research an hour before our date. All-you-can-eat buffets are huge here. Sorry, Sage.”
She nudges me back. “If I did research for this date, I’m pretty sure I would have taken us to the same place. It was all-you-can-eat crab legs, and that’s hard to pass up.”
“Fancy and fulfilling.”
That makes her laugh, which eases the tension coiling in my shoulders. “When you look at it that way, I have to admit, impeccable dinner option.”
“See, if we ignore the chicken-wing bandit, we have a great start to the night.”
“And the kid who tripped me by the mac and cheese.”
“Don’t worry.” My hand bumps with hers. “I gave the kid a look afterward.”
“A look?” Sage playfully grips her chest. “My hero.”
We fall in line, our pace the same as we walk the strip, taking in the drunk tourists and street sideshow acts looking to score some extra bucks from gambling tourists.
“What’s next?” she asks.
“Uh . . . I guess this is where I say something intelligent about the city?” I think about it for a second and then say, “It gets really hot here, but I guess you know that given your copious amounts of sunscreen.”
“Yeah, that I know.”
I tap my chin. “Uh, did you know that the daily shrimp consumption in Vegas is over sixty thousand pounds?”
“Really?” Her face morphs into disbelief. “I mean, we both ate a few at dinner, but sixty thousand pounds.” She shakes her head. “That’s a lot of cocktail sauce.”
“And fishtails.” In front of us is the Bellagio, and I nod toward it. “Want to take a look at the fountains?”
Her face lights up. “Now that’s something I know is also iconic to Vegas.”
“See, not so bad. Fully belly and a water show. I almost seem like I know what I’m doing.”
“Almost.”
I press my hand to her lower back and guide her toward the fountains where we find an empty section of the concrete fence to ourselves. I take a seat and face her, and she does the same.
She avoids all eye contact with me, shy and almost . . . scared.
“Everything all right?” I ask. Is she enjoying herself or wishing she hadn’t bothered?
She nods. “Everything is good.” She glances at me. “Do you enjoy flying?”
Just like that, the rest of the tension in my shoulders starts to ease. “I don’t think saying I love it will give my feelings justice. It’s a part of me, something I know I was meant to do my entire life.”
“Rocky is the same way. Always wanted to fly. Were you just like him and had a bunch of model airplanes?” Yes, but maybe not for the same reason.
“So many.” I chuckle. “Mine are in a storage unit in Colorado Springs right now. With all the moving around we do, I didn’t want to risk damaging them. A lot of them belonged to my grandpa.”
“He handed them down to you?”
“Yeah. He was my best friend for so long; a role model.”
“Was?”
I nod. “He passed away shortly after I got my wings to fly. He never got to see me in a Raptor. I had plans to fly him down with his nurse and watch me take off, do a few things in the air and then land, but he died unexpectedly in his sleep.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.” Fucking. Horrible. Absolutely. Devastating.
“Took a little bit to accept, but the more time passes, I know he lives on with me in that cockpit. He was a pilot, and he’s the reason I’m where I am today.”
“That’s so sweet.” Sage is kind and sweet, and I finally feel like she’s relaxing with me. And I want that.
“What got you into optometry?”
“Would it be weird if I said I’ve always found eyeballs fascinating?”
“No.” I shake my head. “We all have our passions. I have planes, you have eyeballs.”
She chuckles and shakes her fist while she talks. “But yours sounds so much more interesting than mine.”
Sitting close enough to her, the fountains behind us subdued for the moment, I bump my shoulder with hers. “They’re both interesting.”
Her eyes fall to the ground for a moment before she looks back at me, and that’s when I see it. There’s a twinkle in her eye, a tilt to her head, a smirk on her lips. She’s having a good time. I might be out of practice, but I can do this, and I can do this with her.
“Thank you for taking me out tonight.” Her finger grazes mine, shooting a sensation I haven’t felt in a long time up my arm. “I’ve had a really good time so far.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Yeah. Rocky was right, you are one of the good guys.”
Balboa approved? Hell, I’ll take it.
Chapter Seventy-Four
RYAN
“They weren’t kidding when they advertised efficiency apartment, were they?” my dad comments, looking around my new tiny space. It’s a far cry from my one-bedroom apartment in Colorado Springs.
When I searched for apartments, I looked for cheap in a safe area. The cheapest I could find was six fifty a month, and it was this studio apartment, efficiency style, meaning—I don’t have a kitchen, just a mini fridge, hot plate, and microwave placed in one square space I get to call my new home.
“It’s not that bad.”
“You don’t have an oven.”
“I don’t really cook, so no big deal.”
The Duets Page 59
