“I’d love to get out of the South, but the idea of being an IP isn’t entirely repulsive.” He couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but sometime in the past week, the thought of staying here, stable for a few years, pushing arrogant bucks like Juice Box and molding them into not just great pilots, but great officers, had become less appalling and more appealing.
He loved his Herc. If he were being honest,he loved mentoring Juice Box too. Inspiring pilots the way Kaci inspired her students—that was worthwhile.
And possibly the idea of seeing a little more of Kaci—recreationally, of course, not as anything serious—wasn’t entirely revolting either.
He still wanted to see the rest of the country and the world, but he wasn’t even thirty yet. He had time. “If I’d been married when my commander suggested being an IP, I would’ve jumped at the opportunity,” he confessed.
“Old ball and chain would’ve wanted you here more often, huh?”
“Iwould’ve wanted to be here.”
She nudged his shoulder. “Lance Wheeler, you’re a big ol’ softie.”
“You know that moment when your life falls to shit and you realize all you have left is your career?”
“Every day, sugar.”
He took another sip of coffee. Smart man wouldn’t have touched that with a ten-foot pole. “Rough week?”
“I live with me. Pretty much a guarantee everything’s harder than it should be.”
He couldn’t help an amused snort. “Might try going easier on yourself.”
“Or not going so far out of my way to be right all the time,” she grumbled.
“Or wrong,” he teased.
She humored him with a half-smile. “Or wrong.”
“Lot to be said for people who don’t half-ass anything.” The woman made him want to pull her into his arms and just hold her. Take care of her. Let him carry her troubles for her for a while.
As if she’d let him.
“You doing okay?” he said instead.
“I’m sorry.”
“For bringing coffee?”
“For being a drama queen last weekend when you took such good care of both of us to help me.”
She was making that little muscle in his chest do things it wasn’t supposed to do for a woman.
He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her hair. “You’re forgiven.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
She leaned into him and rested her arm on his thigh. “And I’m sorry I called you a pumpkin-chucking cheater.”
“Also forgiven. You want to go see my catapult?”
She shook her head.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Kaci?”
“I stuffed her in a duffel bag and threatened not to let her touch my potato gun everagain if she didn’t quit being mean to people who are nice to her.”
