“He crash-landed us in a cornfield.”
“Is he okay?”
“Isheokay?” She rubbed her dirt-streaked hands down her pants. Her favorite Ole Miss shirt was ruined, her feet had blisters, and her knees and ankles ached almost as much as her calves and thighs. “That man took aim at a mutant flying ostrich, killed the plane’s engine, nearly made me have a catatonic stroke, and then he called me a baby. And you want to know ifhe’sokay?”
“So that’s a no.” Tara handed over a bottleof water.
Kaci’s phone rang. She pulled it out and glanced at it, and unwelcome tears clogged her throat.
“Um, does he know where you are?” Tara asked.
Kaci shoved the phone at her.
Lance was right.
She was a big ol’ baby. And she didn’t know how to admit when she was wrong. Or how to say thank you for everything he’d done for her.
“Hi, you’ve reached Kaci’s phone,” Tara chirped. “Oh, yes, we’ve met. I was there that night she kissed you at Taps… Uh-huh. I can—no, no, she’s fine. Do you need a ride back home too?”
Kaci flared her eyes wide and made awhat the hell?gesture at her friend.
Tara ignored her. “Oh, good. Great. Yeah, I imagine that has to be a pain in the ass.Hey, so I know this is awkward, but I write romance novels in my spare time, and I wouldloveto pick your brain about—hey!”
Kaci hung up the phone and shoved it back in her pocket. “Bad timing, sugar.”
“He’s worried about you. And he says to go ahead and take you home. He’s making sure the plane gets back to the Aero Club.”
Being the responsible one. Cleaning up a mess he wouldn’t have been in if it weren’t for her. “I think I screwed up,” she whispered to Tara.
Tara looped an arm around her for a shoulder hug. “All the best people do from time to time. You hungry? I brought beef jerky and bananas.”
She wasn’t hungry.
But she was tired of fighting all the time.
And of all the men in the world, Lance deserved to be fought with the least.
“I don’t want another military man in mylife,” she said.
Tara squeezed her again. “Sometimes, we don’t get that choice.”
After four hourstaking care of the plane, another hour and a half drive back home with Juice Box chattering the whole way, and a five-mile run, Lance still wanted to hit something.
Instead, he settled for heading out with the guys to spend some quality time with Gertrude and that bottle of Jack at Pony’s man cave. He was tossing darts and riding a buzz when an unexpected knock sounded at the door.
He didn’t think much of it until the room went silent behind him.
Slowly, he turned, knowing without looking that he would never be prepared for whatever it was she was up to.
“What the hell do you want?” Pony said to Kaci.
She was in jeans that hugged every curve, shitkicker boots, and a skintight pink cotton shirt that perfectly showed the outline of her bra. Her lips were painted, eye makeup smoky, hair mussed and styled and falling about her shoulders. She lifted her pert little nose, but uncertainty kept her blue eyes dimmer than usual. “Just bringing by what I owe y’all.”
She reached over beside her, grunted a little, then lifted a keg into the doorway.
“That filled with cyanide?” Pony asked.
Her nose twitched, and a flash of irritation brought a spark to her eyes, but her voice came out far meeker than Lance would’ve thought possible. “It’s SweetWater IPA.”
