Fly With Me (13 page)

JORDAN

I left Florida first thing in the morning Friday, my flight arriving in Oklahoma City in the early afternoon. I took a cab to Noah's house, struggling to get my bag up to the front door, lifting the mat for the key he'd left there. I found it and unlocked the door, hauling my bag over the threshold and shutting the door behind me with a thud.

I walked back to Noah's room, setting my suitcase down, checking my cell to see if he'd texted. He'd mentioned that if he finished up with his debrief, he'd try to come home early and spend the rest of the day with me.

I couldn't wait to see him. Nearly three weeks apart from each other was way too long. I didn't know what it was about this relationship that made the distance so tough. Maybe it was that we were just starting out. We were still in that honeymoon, can't-keep-my-hands-off-you phase, which only made the time apart seem even longer. And it was also the fact that this was our norm. It wasn't like he was on a business trip; our relationship was defined in so many ways by
being apart. By me being the one who came to see him. Our relationship was shaped as much by the time together as it was by the absence of each other.

I started rummaging through my suitcase, setting my toiletries in the bathroom adjoining Noah's room, hanging up the outfit I'd planned for tonight to avoid wrinkles. And then the door swung open and I turned, my gaze landing on Noah.

I opened my mouth to say, “Hi,” but the word got lost somewhere between our lips as he devoured me, his hands running over my body, kissing me until I went dizzy. God, I'd forgotten how good he could kiss. Forgotten how amazing his tongue felt, the slight nip of his teeth, the hair against my face . . .

Wait. What?

He leaned back, his arms still wrapped around my waist.

I froze at the sight of my man, tall and lean in his flight suit, aviators in hand . . . mustache.

What?

“God, I missed you,” he groaned. “You look gorgeous.”

I'd woken up at 3 a.m. just so I would have time to do my hair and makeup before I arrived. Given the thing on his face, clearly he hadn't been as concerned.

I couldn't look away. “Mustache” wasn't the proper word. Mustaches were trimmed and groomed, and while definitely not my favorite thing, there was symmetry to a mustache. This was just like a forest of hair had moved in, bushy and unruly, and invaded his upper lip.

What the fuck?

“Sorry, but I have to go back to work.”

I tore my gaze away from the mustache, focusing on the words coming out of his mouth.

“I thought you were home.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, but we had a last-minute flail with the schedule and they need me to lead a four-ship.”

He'd taught me that a four-ship meant a formation of four planes.

“I'm probably not going to make it back before the party starts tonight, so can you catch a ride with Easy? He's coming back and can get you on base.”

My mind sped as I tried to dissect all the things being thrown at me. I was nervous enough about going to this squadron thing without the added pressure of now going with Easy, who I wasn't even sure liked me. I wasn't going to know anyone there; I'd sort of been counting on Noah to be there. And I really wasn't excited about the fucking forest on his face.

I'd flown across the country expecting the Noah who was sweet on the phone with me, and instead I'd gotten Grizzly Adams. Grizzly Adams mixed with a bad 1970s porn star. I'd sort of thought he'd be excited to see me, too. No, I didn't expect him to get up at 3 a.m. to do his hair and makeup, but was personal hygiene too much to ask for?

My eyes narrowed as I gestured at that thing. “What's going on?”

“I told you. Flying tonight. I'll be home late. Sorry.” He stepped back, releasing me. “I gotta go.”

Wait. What?

“I mean what's on your face?” I blurted out, figuring that was the easiest and most obvious place to start. I gestured toward his lip, not really wanting to touch it, already mentally cringing over the fact that it had brushed my face.

I had a thing about hair. On anyone. Boyfriend or not, I always landscaped for myself. So to say I was not thrilled to see a mustache on my boyfriend's gorgeous face was the understatement of the year.

“It's March, babe.”

That was his explanation? I stared at him like he was delusional—no, scratch that—I stared at that thing on his face. It was like a hairy caterpillar had crawled up and taken residence over his lip.

Ugh.

Tell me the mustache wasn't a permanent thing and I'd just met him on a brief hiatus. We'd met in February. Last time I'd been out here had been the last weekend in February. And our video sex chat had been a few days after that and the quality hadn't been all that great. Sure, I'd seen some stubble, but not this.

“You don't shave in March?”

He gave me a look like I'd just said “fuck” in church. “It's Mustache March.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Mustache March.”

“What the fuck is Mustache March?” I asked, my foot tapping now. Meg was getting married
next weekend
. No way I was taking him to my sister's wedding with that thing on his face. No fucking way. A whole month? Those pictures would last forever. How could he not mention this? I didn't mean to be superficial, but he looked like a total perv.

He just stared back at me like we spoke a different language. Maybe we did. He was clearly speaking Fighter Pilot and I was speaking Girl Who Is a Bridesmaid in Her Younger Sister and Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding.

“We grow mustaches.”

He said this proudly, as if mustaches were something to be glorified. His lips curved. The caterpillar twitched.

Was this normal behavior? Had I somehow time warped back to college and fraternity rush week or something?

“We?” I asked, my voice weak. It was like a car crash I couldn't look away from.

“Everyone. The squadron. Fighter pilots. Pilots. The Air Force.”

“Everyone grows a mustache,” I repeated.

What the fuck?

He checked his watch. “Babe, I gotta brief soon.” His voice became impatient now, and my annoyance grew. I got that in the grand scheme of life, it wasn't a big deal, but right now, it felt like a big deal.

I'd flown across the country to see him. Multiple times. My friends and family thought I was crazy. I was beginning to think I was crazy. He hadn't been able to pick me up, now he couldn't even stay, and then to top it off, he'd said he wanted me to meet his friends, and now he was going to miss out on most of that. I didn't know if it was the lack of sleep or what, but the mustache, stupid as it was, felt like the tipping point.

“Can we talk about this later?” he asked, his voice growing even more impatient.

Oh, yeah, I was getting pissed.

“No. No, we can't talk about this later. My sister's wedding is in eight days. Are you telling me that thing is going to be on your face in all of the family photos?”

He grinned, and I swore he almost puffed out his chest with pride. I couldn't.

“Yeah, it's awesome, right?”

Oh my God.

“No.”

“Babe.”

“No.”

The smile slid off his face as my tone changed, my foot
tapping even faster. We hadn't been together long enough for him to see my temper, but I had a temper. A big one. And it was about to blow. I didn't like feeling like I was an afterthought or an inconvenience, and I definitely felt like both now.

“Everyone grows a mustache,” he repeated.

“Even the women?”

“No.”

“So not everyone grows a mustache.”

Noah's eyes darkened, and I got the feeling
he
was getting pissed. If I'd been a little more together, I would have registered that he was probably not the kind of guy who handled being told what to do very well, but I was in the middle of losing my shit, so that
didn't
register.

“I don't have a pussy, so yeah, everyone in my world grows a fucking mustache in March.” He glanced at his watch again, the gesture spiking my temper. “I don't have time for this. I need to go.”

I glared at him.
Asshole.
“Well, you definitely won't have
my
pussy if you don't shave that thing off your fucking face.”

I hated saying the P-word—did any girl actually like it?—but desperate times called for desperate measures. If I had to speak Fighter Pilot to get that shit off his face, I'd do it. Not to mention, I wasn't feeling too into him right now anyway.

Noah closed the distance between us, the expression in his eyes changing from slightly annoyed to supremely pissed off. Good, now we were even.

“You're saying you won't have sex with me for all of March if I have a mustache?”

I mean there was like a week left in the month, but I had to draw a line somewhere, flimsy though that line may be. It was my own
Lysistrata.
“That's what I'm saying.”

Arrogance flashed in those beautiful dark eyes and I felt a fluttering in my lady parts.
Shit.

Since he'd never seen my temper, and we'd never actually had a fight, we'd also never had angry sex. Which when done well, could be really freaking hot. And considering Noah did
everything
well, I didn't doubt he'd deliver there, too.

“Bullshit. You can't go the whole weekend without my cock, babe.”

Possibly true, but right now this was the best play I had.

I leaned in closer, letting him get a whiff of my perfume and a chance to look down my shirt at the not-insubstantial cleavage there barely contained by the red lacy bra.

“Bet I can.” I leaned back after a moment, after I knew he'd gotten enough of a show to want more, my gaze settling meaningfully on the area between his nose and upper lip. “Especially when you look like that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Chicks dig the 'stache.”

My hands fisted on my hips and a laugh escaped. “Newsflash, no one digs the 'stache. You look like Chester the Molester.”

“Who the fuck is Chester the Molester?”

“Someone with a
'stache
exactly like yours.”

He groaned, the anger sliding off his face. “I'm not shaving no matter how cute you are.”

Something fluttered in me as he said that, and a little bit of my anger slid away.

“Wanna bet?”

A gleam settled in his eyes as he leaned into my body, the thin fabric of his flight suit doing nothing to hide his growing arousal. Another flutter.
Shit.
I shifted slightly so his hips were pressed against mine and he was between my legs.

“I bet you can't make it through the weekend without my cock, babe.”

Well, now my anger was completely gone.

“Can,” I whispered, my voice shaky as he bent his head, his lips grazing my neck. My head fell back, my body clearly not getting the
Lysistrata
memo.

His lips curved against my neck and then his teeth nipped at the skin there and I felt myself getting wet.
Shit.

Noah pulled back, a satisfied smirk on his face, and I knew he could read the arousal flushing my skin and the way my chest rose and fell.

“Sure, babe.”

I should have realized that daring a fighter pilot to do anything would only encourage him.

“Tell you what. If you can make it without sex for the next
week
, I'll shave it off for your sister's wedding.”

That seemed doable. I could make a week. Hell, I wasn't going to volunteer the information, but I'd gone months without sex when I was single—
vibrators didn't count, right?

“Define sex.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘Define sex'?”

“Like a week without sex, or a week without sex with you?”

The second the words left my mouth, I realized I'd chosen poorly. Really fucking poorly. I'd meant to clarify on the whole vibrator issue without getting
too
specific, but apparently I'd just inserted my stiletto into my mouth instead.

Arghhh.

“Are you thinking of fucking someone else?” Noah asked, his eyes wide, his tone incredulous. God, he was getting growly. This did serious things to my body.
Shit.

“No.”

“Then what does it matter if it's sex, or sex with me, it's all the same thing.”

I made a face. “Hate to break it to you, but you are not my only supplier of orgasms.”

His entire expression changed as I figured he got my meaning. “Babe. Gotta tell you the idea of you making yourself come is hot as fuck. Even hotter is the idea of me watching you do it.”

Gah.
He definitely got my meaning.

For a moment, I really had to wonder if the mustache fight was worth it.

He kissed me hard. “Gotta go fly, babe,” he whispered against my mouth, tickling my lips. “You wanna bet? You're on. If you can make it a week, I'll shave. If you can't . . .” It lingered between us. “If you can't, you're mine the way I want it, when I want it. And the 'stache stays.”

This was not necessarily a hardship. I was almost ready to throw it for sex on tap.

Focus on the 'stache.

I nodded. “Done.”

He grinned, and I sank down on the edge of the bed, watching him swagger out of the room, my odds suddenly not looking so good.

NOAH

I couldn't concentrate.

The sortie had gone well, the debrief fine. But my mind was back in my bedroom, back with Jordan. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd fucked up with how I'd handled things with her.

I felt like an asshole for not picking her up at the airport today. And I was even more pissed about the fact that I hadn't been able to spend the rest of the day with her. I'd been dying to see her, and when I'd gotten a call from Rush, who ran the scheduling shop, I'd known I was going to disappoint her. And maybe I should have mentioned the mustache, but honestly, it had never occurred to me. I'd been a fighter pilot for over a decade. The married guys did Mustache March. Their wives didn't seem to mind. Apparently, Jordan did.

I walked out of the vault where we stored all our classified materials and ran into Joker. As squadron commander, he worked even more intense hours than the rest of us and
was always the first one in and the last one to leave, his office light on every weekend. I figured Dani was a little bit of a saint to put up with his continued absences.

He jerked his chin in greeting. “Did your girl get in okay?”

I nodded, my answer mostly true. I hesitated, feeling like an idiot, but also figuring I needed relationship advice, and considering my top choices were Easy, who fucked anything hot that moved, and Thor, who had a broken engagement behind him that he refused to talk about a decade later, Joker seemed like the best bet. Besides, there were a ton of married guys in the squadron, but few were as happily married as Dani and Joker appeared to be.

“Does Dani, uh, hate Mustache March?”

Joker let out a bark of laughter.

“Seriously?”

I guessed that answered my question.

“She fucking hates it.”

“But you still do it.”

“She deals.”

In the years I'd known Joker and his wife, I'd never heard Dani raise her voice, never heard her curse. Somehow I didn't think she and Jordan would
deal
in the same way. Maybe I should have just shaved the thing. I'd gotten caught up in the moment and hadn't thought about how surprised I would have been if she'd radically changed her appearance or something.

“Let me guess, your girl isn't a fan?” Joker asked.

“That would be an understatement. She's pissed. I didn't handle it all that well, so now she's really pissed.”

He shrugged. “She'll either get over it, or you'll cave. Just pick your battles. Is she coming tonight?”

I nodded.

I felt guilty about that, too. The party at the O-Club had started two hours ago. Maybe I shouldn't have suggested Jordan go with Easy. She'd definitely been nervous.
Fuck
. This was why I was shit at relationships. I was so used to just worrying about myself, my focus on my job and the mission, that I hadn't even thought about her feelings.

Joker grinned. “Good luck. See you at the club in a few?”

I nodded again, my mind back on Jordan. I'd been an asshole earlier. I needed to make it up to her. Somehow.

JORDAN

I ended up being spared from one-on-one time with Easy when he brought a date, a pretty, dark-haired girl named Sonya.

She talked the whole way to the base, her stories distracting me from the nerves rolling around in my stomach and making my heart race.

It turned out she was in vet school—
definitely
way too smart for Easy—and from the sound of things, their arrangement, or whatever it was, was really casual. Easy took a call from another girl to set up what sounded like a date while she was there, and Sonya legit didn't bat an eye. I would have kneed him in the balls, so I figured she was a better person than me. I didn't really get why he brought her. I mean, I liked her a lot. But Noah had definitely described this as more of a family thing. And neither Easy nor Sonya looked all that into each other besides the obvious physical intimacy between them.

Not my business.

Except she was young and nice, and sort of reminded me
of Meg, and I liked her. And I didn't trust Easy as far as I could throw him, which considering that body, wouldn't be far at all.

He took both of us to the visitor's center, repeating the process I'd gone through with Noah in Vegas.

Bryer was a smaller base than Nellis, but it had the same nondescript look. The buildings looked a little rundown, the architecture a hodgepodge that didn't quite match. Beige colors dominated. Function definitely reigned supreme. Easy pointed out the flight line, the rows of F-16s parked under giant metal hangars.

And then we were pulling into the parking lot of the club, and my nerves picked up.

Sonya flashed me a grin and I figured it was obvious I was freaking the fuck out.

“The guys'll be nice,” she whispered as we followed Easy in. “Some of the wives are fun.” She hesitated. “Some of the wives will ignore you 'cause you're not a wife.” She shrugged. “You get used to it.”

It was a little pathetic how important it was to me that this went well. Meeting the friends was so official, and I'd gotten the impression that because Noah's job kept him away from his family, his friends
were
his family. So I really wanted them to like me. Especially since I couldn't quite get my stride with his best friend.

Easy explained the history of the club as we walked in, and how the building was divided into an officers' side and an enlisted side, which seemed strange to me, but Easy just answered that it gave guys a place to relax and let their guard down among their peers. Still, weird. The whole rank thing and the way guys had saluted Easy going through the gate was just so different from what I was used to. Despite the manners my mother had attempted to drill into me, I
was pretty laid back. The rules and customs overwhelmed me, creating way more opportunities for inadvertently insulting someone than I was comfortable with.

We hit the bar, and the nerves got worse as I surveyed the crowd.

The vast majority formed a sea of green flight suits. While not every guy was hot, there was an overabundance of fit guys dressed in uniform, so I figured anyone who had a man-in-uniform fantasy would be hard-pressed not to feel like they'd hit the mother lode. As long as they were willing to overlook the mustaches. Noah had not been kidding; all of the guys had mustaches, ranging from,
desperately trying to grow facial hair
to
attack of the giant hairy caterpillar.

Interspersed between all of the green were the women who I guessed were the wives. By the look of things, Sonya and I had totally missed the mark on our outfits.

Fuck.

I glanced over at Sonya, who looked like she couldn't have cared less. I, on the other hand, wanted to sink into the ground. Most of the women were dressed in jeans, their bodies covered in sweaters or fleece. I'd toned it down a bit, minimized the cleavage, made the hair a little smaller, but in comparison I felt overdone and ridiculous.

I so did not belong here.

And then I caught sight of a woman walking toward us, and I figured if there were a poster child for being an Air Force wife, this was it.

She had long copper-colored hair, and pale skin that made her look like a porcelain doll. Her eyes were a startling green, her makeup flawless. She wore dark jeans that fit her like a glove and a black turtleneck. Gorgeous gray boots completed the ensemble.

She stopped in front of us, and her mouth spread into a
wide smile. She hugged Easy, who stiffened for a second, his usual swagger tempered. She pulled back and flashed that same smile at Sonya. And then she turned to me.

Her smile widened. Blinding. Genuine.

“You must be Jordan. I've been dying to meet you. I'm Dani.”

She spoke with a soft Southern accent that called to mind sweet tea and porch swings.

So this was Joker's wife. The Dani that Noah had wanted me to meet.

“It's really nice to meet you,” I replied. Something about her manner was instantly welcoming.

“I've heard so much about you since the guys got back from Vegas. I'm so glad you could make it to hang out with the squadron.” She gestured toward the bar. “Do you want a drink?”

“I can get you ladies something,” Easy interjected, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

You ladies?

I made a face, which I was pretty sure he caught by the snort that escaped his lips. Yeah, I was definitely not winning any points in the best friend department. Crap. Dani's lips twitched as she noticed both of our expressions. I figured we looked like a pair of bickering siblings.

Easy took our drink orders, and then Sonya decided to go with him to the bar, leaving Dani and me alone.

“Do you want to go sit?” she asked.

I nodded and followed her to a table, feeling like all eyes were on me.

“I'll let Noah introduce you around,” she said as we sat across from each other. “He should be here soon. I just spoke with Joker and they're wrapping up work.”

I was ready to have Noah beside me. I definitely kept
garnering a lot of stares, and while Dani was really nice, I wasn't sure I could say the same for the rest of the crowd.

“It has to be kind of awkward coming to one of these things on your own.” She smiled. “The first time I went to a military function with Joker, I was scared out of my mind. We'd only been together for a few months and he invited me to the Air Force Ball. It was romantic, but not only was I obsessed with making sure I had the perfect dress, I was also petrified that I'd make a protocol faux pas or something.”

I grinned. “Yeah, that about sums it up. I'm way out of my depth here. The military is definitely a bit of a foreign concept to me, although Noah's been awesome about giving me a little Air Force primer. How long have you and Joker been married?”

“Five years.”

She looked to be about my age now.

We chatted for a few minutes until Easy came over with our drinks, minus Sonya. Noah was right. I liked Dani. A lot. She had a way of making people feel comfortable and we'd clicked. I really hoped we'd become friends.

I expected Easy to drop off our drinks and go in search of his date, but instead he filled the empty seat. Within seconds, it was obvious he and Dani were close. The smirk and attitude he so often displayed had disappeared, and instead he almost seemed like a nice guy. He made a few jokes, asked her some questions, listened when she spoke. It was like his asshole persona had disappeared completely behind a veil, leaving me wondering which one was the real Easy.

Eventually Dani excused herself to greet some of the new arrivals. I got the impression that her position as the
squadron commander's wife made her the social hostess, a role she seemed well suited for considering how nice she was. Before she left, she turned to me and gave me her cell number. “If you ever need to talk, or just want to hang out while you're visiting Noah and the guys have to work or something, give me a call.”

I grinned, feeling like I'd definitely made a new friend. “I will.”

She walked off, leaving me at the table with Easy. I had no idea where Sonya had gone.

I gestured toward where a group of guys congregated around a pool table, shouting and elbowing one another, raucous laughter spilling out over the club.

“I'm okay if you want to go play with them. You don't have to sit with me all night.”

Easy's smirk returned. “I'm fine. I told Noah I'd keep you company until he got here.”

“So you're, what, my babysitter?”

He laughed, completely unfazed by the bit of bitch I threw his way. “Something like that.”

“What are they playing?” I asked.

He didn't bother looking; clearly this was a common occurrence. “Crud.”

“Crud?”

“Fighter pilot game.”

My eyes narrowed as I watched the guys running around the pool table, arms and elbows out, a billiard ball pinging between them. It looked intense and more than a little violent. The odds of serious injury seemed high.

“So basically, it's fighter pilot Quidditch.”

A strangled laugh escaped his lips. “Please tell Noah that.”

I barely stifled my eye roll.

“You don't like me, do you?” Easy asked, using that same tone he always displayed when he talked to me, so different from the one he'd used with Dani. As though I amused him and more in a “laughing at me” than “with me” sort of way. He definitely felt like the annoying brother I'd never had or wanted.

“Not particularly.”

At this point, it seemed ridiculous to deny it.

“Why?”

“You kind of seem like an asshole.”

“That's because I am kind of an asshole.”

God, he really was. I didn't get it.

“What's the deal with you and Noah?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The bestie thing.”

He looked even more amused. “The
bestie
thing?”

“You know, you're Robin to his Batman.”

“Why do I have to be Robin? Noah's my wingman way more than I'm his.”

I laughed. “Is that why you keep throwing me attitude, because I didn't fall all over myself when I saw you and instead chose Noah? Did I hurt your pride?”

He smirked. “He's going to have his hands full with you, isn't he?”

I ignored the implication that I was high maintenance because, really, tell me something I didn't already know.

“And that's a bad thing? Let me guess, you like your women to shut up and put out?”

“Honey, you have no idea how I like my women. And for the record, no, I don't think it's a bad thing that you challenge Noah. He's serious. All the time. Flying has been his
life for as long as I've known him. He needs more. He smiles with you. And he's trying to make this work, even though relationships aren't exactly his forte.”

I blinked.