Her eyes grow wide.I can just make out the green color of her iris from behind the long, thick eyelashes glued to her lids.“Like a Jedi?”she breathes.Her voice almost sounds seductive when she whispers in awe like that.
Note to self—make sure Bryttni experiences a steady stream of awe on this trip.
“Just a pilot,” I tell her.
“A hot pilot.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
The truth is, I’m also a rancher, a tech wizard, and a former Navy SEAL.But I don’t mention any of that.I get the impression that Bryttni is happy with a one-dimensional hot pilot.
But it makes me wonder.With all the ways I could define myself these days, is pilot even at the top anymore?Especially with the success of StellaR Tech.A few years ago, I could not have imaged that the little surveillance tech my older brother Finn and I created would become a billion-dollar business, with the help of my other brothers Cal, Evander, and Special K.
I slip an arm around Bryttni’s waist and palm her ass with my other hand as I tug her close.She giggles when she feels my hardon press against her belly and raises her face to mine for a kiss.I feel her fingers unbuckle my belt.Unzip my fly.She’s shoving my pants to my knees.
Fine.Maybe if we stay within arm’s reach of the radio…
“I’m about to hurl!”
I spin around.Summer Stevens sways in the center aisle, grabbing onto the back of a white leather passenger seat for balance.
“Summer?What the fucking hell are you doing on my plane?”
My best friend slaps her free hand over her mouth and lurches forward.She points at Bryttni.
“Huuumm-ammt?”she asks.
Bryttni crosses her arms under her Double Ds and frowns.“Who amI?Who areyou?”
CHAPTER 2
Summer
I hate flying.What’s the purpose of defying gravity when there’s perfectly good ground wrapped around the planet like a snuggly blanket?Especially since some of that ground is covered in grass, trees, mountains, lakes, and rivers.
We humans have options.We can walk, run, ride, swim—even snowboard if the urge to do something truly stupid strikes—and it’s all good.So there’s absolutely no sane reason for anyone to fly.
Yet here I am, up in the air and concluding that my plan isn’t working all that great.It sounded simple enough when I came up with it.I’d stow away in Declan’s jet.The jet would take off.I’d walk up the aisle to the cockpit.I’d announce to him that I was hijacking the plane and forcing him to turn around and land in Las Vegas so that we could prevent a disaster from happening.
Evander and Phoebe can’t be allowed to elope.
But when the jet leveled off in the air and I tried to walk up the aisle, a wave of nausea and dizziness slammed into me.I figured it would go away if I laid down for a moment, so I pulled out the sleeper sofa in the back.
No bueno.
And now we’ve been flying for well over a half hour.I think I see ocean down there, but it makes me sicker to look.I can’t hold it any longer.The only bathroom is near the cockpit and that’s where I’m headed, no matter if I have to crawl.
It’s all my fault.I ate a leftover Philly cheesesteak on my drive to the airport, and the thing is hankering for revenge.
I can’t believe I was forced to get in this tin can in the first place!Butsomebodyhas to take care of business.Declan is perfectly capable of handling this alone, of course, but he isn’t.He’s the kind of guy who gets easily distracted and forgets basic things, like how his brother Evander and our neighbor Phoebe—the sweetest and kindest woman any of us have ever known—simply cannot be allowed to get married without us!
Somebody’s got to man up in this scenario.That woman is me.
Declan and I both know what Evander’s up to.We stood right next to him at Finn and Emma’s wedding when he said that nosy families were the reason elopements have become so popular.And he said this while staring at Phoebe dressed in a red velvet, floor-length gown with a slit all the way up to her thigh.
Lordy.
Men.
