Page 100 of Cockpit
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I can feel it when he kisses me goodbye.
I can hear it in the tone of his voice when he says he’ll call me later.
I can see it in the look in his eyes as he shuts the door behind me.
I think about it all the way home and still can’t figure it out. Maybe I don’t want to.
All I know is that Grayson Malone just pulled the most classic display of “this is casual sex,” I’d ever seen.
It was just a display, though.
Because what we just did was so much more than casual. It was intimate and tender and demanding and so many things, and I’m not sure what the hell to think about that other than wanting more.
“So, let me get this straight. The Malone guy—the contestant from your hometown who you kind of remember from high school but don’t—is the one you’ve been sleeping with?” Zoey asks. We are at a small table in the back of the Greer Vineyard’s tasting room, and even though there aren’t many people around, I’m tempted to shush her.
“For the fifth time, yes, yes, and more yes.” I take another sip of wine, hoping this will be the end of it but knowing this is only the beginning.
“But you neglected to tell me the man you were sleeping with and hot pilot boy were one and the same. Why?”
“It slipped my mind.”
“Ha.” She laughs. “More like he slipped into you and you forgot your mind.”
“Well . . . can you blame me?”
“But you’re sneaking around doing the whole clandestine lovers thing why?”
My mind goes back to last week. To the naughty texts and the sexcapade at The Cottage. And then I realize how much I’ve missed him since he started back to working his twenty-four-hour shifts.
Texting is fun, but it definitely isn’t the real thing.
“Work. My dad. The appearance of impropriety that I’m sleeping with the contestant who is currently winning the contest,” I finally say when I realize I haven’t responded.
She gives me a sour look and lifts her brows. “So, the small-town gossip you told people was a total lie really wasn’t?”
“No. Some of it is a lie. Do you see a ring on this finger? Do you see me engaged?”
“You know I’d kick your ass if you were hiding that from me, right?” she asks as I avert my eyes and look around again. “Wait. You don’t want that, do you?” The expression on her face—raised brows, lax jaw, wide eyes—looks just like the shock in her to
ne.
“No! Of course not,” I say and shake my head like she’s crazy. “We’ve only been seeing each other a couple of months and—”
“And your parents dated for what? Three months before they got married and are now going on forty years of wedded bliss.”
“You’re crazy.” I laugh and take a sip of wine to quell the mini panic attack her words just brought on as I envisioned Grayson in a tuxedo, standing at the end of an aisle, waiting for me to walk to him.
“Okay, so then why are you being so secretive about him with me? Why did I not even know there was a thing? And more importantly, why are you overthinking this? If he’s a wham-bam, oh-hot-damn type of guy, then enjoy the bam and the wham and scream hot damn before walking away when it’s done.”
“God, it’s good to see you, Zoey.” I missed her hard-hitting, no-nonsense, I’m-going-to-call-you-on-your-bullshit attitude.
I need it to clear the fog in my mind and stop the things in my heart that I don’t want to feel but do.
“I know. I’ve missed the hell out of you. I feel like I’ve lost my left arm without you near, and being one handed is kind of hard, which is why I came here to surprise you. I’m also the one who keeps you honest, so give me answers or else I’ll ply you with more wine to get you drunk so you’ll talk.”
“Funny.”
“It isn’t like I haven’t done it before,” she says and takes a sip of her merlot.
