The next morning, at half past seven, Bug Martin sat shoehorned into the co-pilot seat of Mitch’s Cessna TTx waiting for Griff to finish his pre-flight inspection. She had no qualms about flying 1,200 miles in a single engine aircraft with Griff at the controls. He was a great pilot. What she objected to was being stuck inside a four-foot-wide cockpit with the egotistical jackass for the next five to six hours. Especially when she had a pounding headache from the restless night she’d had and her hand throbbed from the well-deserved punch she landed on Griff’s gut.
Even though her hand still hurt like a mother, and she would’ve fractured some fingers if he’d had the chance to clench his abs, she didn’t regret it. Every time she replayed their exchange in her mind, she started trembling with fury. She was self-centered? He was the one who ditched his crew mates to chase after a woman who had already dumped his sorry ass twice.
When Mitch brought up the idea of calling Griff and asking him to fly to Martinique, Bug had kept her opinion to herself because she honestly didn’t think he would come. She shouldn’t have stayed quiet because look where it landed her, stuck in hell for the next three days.
Griff appeared in the open doorway. “Everything looks good.” He reached up and hauled his muscular, six-foot-tall frame into the cockpit with the easy grace of an athlete. As he settled into his seat, his broad shoulders encroached on her personal space. She leaned away from him and pressed herself against the passenger-side window like a cartoon rabbit being launched into space against its will.
As Griff reached out to flick some switches on the control panel, the scent of his musky cologne filled her nose. His arm inadvertently brushed hers, and her stomach fluttered.
With panic.
It fluttered with panic.
She wasn’t normally a fearful flier, but she suddenly couldn’t catch her breath. Could there be a loss of cabin pressure when the plane was still on the ground and the cockpit door was wide open? Because she was pretty sure she was about to pass out from hypoxia.
She tugged at the neck of her t-shirt in an effort to loosen it and focused on breathing deeply and exhaling slowly as nonchalantly as possible.
What the hell? Just because he smelled like the inside of a frickin’ GQ magazine wasn’t a good enough reason to be getting all giddy and light-headed.
It just meant his cologne was too damn strong.
She grunted in annoyance and mashed herself against the passenger-side door again.
“Here.” He offered her a headset.
She ignored the offering.
He nudged her arm. “We don’t have to talk, if that's what you want, but it’s going to get very loud in here in a couple of minutes.”
She rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the mansplaining.” She would rather risk developing temporary tinnitus than have to listen to his voice in her ear for the next four-plus hours. She took the headset from him and dropped it on the floor between her legs.
He shifted in his seat to face her. She felt his gaze on her face like a caress and it sparked the flutters again.
She muttered a curse and looked at him. “What?”
“You know better than anyone how hard goodbyes are for me. Hell, you hate them too. I thought a clean break would be easier.”
She hated the earnest expression on his face, and the way it deepened the two vertical grooves between his eyebrows. “Easier for you maybe.”
“I tried texting you a couple of times to check in, but you didn’t respond.”
She hated the way a lock of his lush, dark blonde hair hung down over his forehead, defying the swept-back style. “Two weeks after you left, you texted me out of the blue about the Dolphins’ score.”
“You didn’t reply.”
“Because I was at the game and pissed you weren’t there with me. I had to sell your ticket to Christian.”
“Wait. You went to the game with Saintervil?”
“Yes, and I thought spending five hours stuck in traffic on the A1A with him was the definition of pure torture. Turns out, hello, Merriam-Webster, ya got it wrong. Today has got that day beat, hands down, and we aren’t even in the air yet.”
Griff’s eyes narrowed, and the gray irises darkened like storm clouds.
She’d struck a nerve. Good.
Bug matched his stare.
“Can’t argue with you there,” he said. “Now stop screwing around and put the headset on. The faster we get to Martinique, the faster we can get this job over with.”
When she made no move toward the headset, Griff reached between her legs to retrieve it himself.
“Hey!” She jumped at the unexpected invasion and shoved at his arm. Thankfully, she wore baggy boy jeans. “Back off! I’ll get it myself.”
He already had the headset in his hand and offered it to her. She grabbed it and shot him a dirty look as she put it on.
He paused to slip on his mirrored sunglasses before he began flicking switches and adjusting knobs on the control panel.
Bug rested against her seat, dodging the occasional brush of Griff’s arm.
The plane’s engine roared to life, growling like a hot rod on steroids, and she remembered her headache. Wincing, she curled into her seat, grateful for the noise-reducing headset even though she was forced to listen to the husky tone of Griff’s voice as he conversed with the control tower with the confidence and casual ease of a professional pilot.
As she stared out the passenger-side window, the sun glinted off the glass making it difficult to see who had just exited the terminal door. The man made his way down the metal stairs to the tarmac with a backpack slung over his shoulder.
He waved at them like he was flagging down a taxi in the rain. Overkill, since they hadn’t moved an inch yet. They were still waiting to be cleared to line up for take-off.
Bug pulled down her headset’s microphone so she could speak into it. “Griff.”
“Yeah?”
“Look.” She pointed to the man jogging toward the plane.
“Noooo. What does he want?”
Bug sat forward shielding her eyes from the sun. Christian Saintervil cut in front of the plane making his way around to the pilot’s side door, which still stood open.
Christian shouted something up to Griff.
“Hang on.” His exasperation came through the headset. He left the engine running and slid out of the cockpit.
More delays. Just great.
Bug couldn’t make out what Christian was saying, but when Griff placed his hands on his hips and his back stiffened, she knew it couldn’t be anything good. He didn’t lose his temper easily or often, but Christian knew how to push his buttons.
Guilt niggled her. Christian wasn’t the only one provoking Griff just because he knew how. Maybe she was coming down too hard on him. After all, he said he was sorry. She just couldn’t get past her disappointment. He swore he’d never go back to that woman. That he’d closed that chapter in his life and had new dreams. Maybe it had just been the whisky talking, because the moment Hannah called, he was gone. And now they were engaged? Nope. He deserved to be heckled a little while longer, but she had to be more prepared to take what he hurled back at her, because he wasn't a pushover. At least, not with her. Hannah was a different story.
Griff opened the rear passenger door behind the pilot and held it for Christian. As he slid into the seat and dropped his backpack on the floor, the douche had the gall to wink at her. Christian Saintervil, the former owner of a scuba adventure company out of Antigua, had joined Thompson Salvage as a diver almost two years ago. With jet-black hair and arresting light blue eyes, he was too good looking and too obnoxious to be likeable. But he was pretty good at his job and loyal, so Mitch kept him around.
When Bug glared at Christian, he pressed his lips to the palm of his hand and blew her a kiss.
“Imbécile,” she murmured with the French pronunciation as she turned away from him and flopped back in her seat. Sometimes cursing felt more satisfying in her native language.
“I heard that.” Christian’s low breath came through the headset.
Bug’s headache flared.
Griff climbed into the cockpit and secured the door before donning his own headset again.
“Will there be cabin service on this flight, captain? I like my martinis dirty, two olives.”
“Shut up, Saintervil. No one wants to listen to your mouth for the next four hours.”
“What’s he doing here?” Bug shifted in her seat to look at both of them.
Christian flashed his Colgate smile. “I’m coming along to chaperone the two of you.”
A blush climbed up Bug’s throat and warmed her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard a rumor ol’ Griffy here is engaged. Can’t have him be tempted by his ex-lover, can we?”
“Ex-lover?” Bug choked on the word. As if. “Don’t be an ass.”
As her face grew even hotter, Griff shot her a curious look. She sat back in her seat and busied herself with fastening her seatbelt so she didn’t have to look at him.
“Back off, Saintervil.”
“Come on, Griffin, you two were as thick as thieves back in the day. You can’t tell me one thing never led to another when the two of you were boozing it up. You had to have been as curious about what was hiding beneath those grease-stained coveralls as I was.”
“Was?” Griff arched an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, I get it, man. I get it.”
“Bug and I have always been just friends,” Griff insisted, but the color in his cheeks made him look as if he wasn’t telling the truth.
“Ignore him. He’s just baiting you,” Bug said. Nothing ever happened between her and Griff, because she wasn’t his type. He was into tall blondes like Hannah Frisk and the other Amazon princesses he’d hooked up with from time to time when he was on the crew. He never once gave Bug any indication that he was even remotely interested in her. His flush was caused by irritation, not guilt.
She turned around as far as the seat belt would allow. “Knock it off, Christian. What’s the real reason you’re here?”
“Mitch’s birthday is coming up, and I found the perfect gift for him in San Juan. I want to see it in person before I buy it, so Griffin has agreed to drop me off when you stop to gas up and then pick me up on the way back.”
A voice from the control tower came through the headset giving Griff instructions for take-off.
The plane jerked slightly and started moving as Griff steered them toward the designated runway lane.
She eyed Christian. It was really difficult to believe Griff would agree to take him to Puerto Rico. If he was anybody else, maybe. But Christian? He was already getting on Griff’s nerves. “What kind of gift did you find for Mitch?”
Christian was reading something on his phone.
Bug reached through the seats and poked his knee. “What are you getting him?”
Christian reluctantly tore his gaze away from the screen. “A mint condition, one of a kind, five-gauge grape leaf instrument panel from the 1920s for The Lilliana. Mitch is gonna flip.”
Bug nodded. That was a good gift. “He’s been searching for a period-appropriate instrument panel for over a year. Good call.”
Still didn’t explain why Griff would agree to give him a lift though.
“I’d like to think I know a thing or two about one-of-a-kind things.” Christian winked at her and her face flamed with heat again.
She shot him a glare that threatened his imminent demise if he uttered a word about what happened between them after the Dolphins’ game.
He mimed turning a lock over his lips and throwing away the key.
She mouthed the word asshat and turned around in her seat.
The sounds of his chuckles echoed through her headset.
Griff didn’t miss the exchange between Bug and Saintervil, but he didn’t have time to question the little pang of jealousy that caught him between the ribs. They were next in line for take-off and he had to focus on getting them safely in the air. Once the plane was at a cruising altitude, his thoughts returned to the woman dozing beside him.
Physically, she hadn’t changed a bit since the last time he saw her. Her short, brown hair still stuck up in messy spikes. Her pretty, oval face wasn’t smudged with grease at the moment, but it was still devoid of makeup. Long lashes framed her big brown eyes, making her look feminine despite the lack of effort. Beneath her baggy t-shirt and boy jeans, she still had a slender, petite body that leant itself to diving into tight spaces and locating the good stuff the rest of crew couldn’t reach without a cutting torch. If he was observing her from the eyes of a male who didn’t think of her as one of the guys, and his former best friend, he would have said she was cute in a tomboyish kind of way. Then he’d duck, because she’d probably punch him in the mouth for noticing.
Saintervil had a reputation for hitting on every attractive female in his vicinity. Had he had the balls to hit on Bug? Griff mentally snorted. He would’ve liked to have seen that. He couldn’t imagine Bug submitting to a kiss from Saintervil or anyone for that matter. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think about it, because Bug was Bug. His old pal. His drinking buddy. His favorite person to talk to about football or fishing or to shoot the shit with about nothing at all. They were just friends. Period. Saintervil was wrong about that. If he'd made the mistake of trying to move in on Bug after Griff left, she would have set him straight.
But what if she hadn’t turned Saintervil down?
The thought made Griff queasy.
It was disconcerting to imagine Bug growing close to somebody else on the crew, especially a douche like Saintervil. When Griff first met her, she kept to herself, did her job, then disappeared until her next shift. He understood her in a way he wouldn't have before his military career abruptly ended, and he took pride in the fact she’d warmed up to him of all people. They’d shared a special bond and, yeah, maybe he was being selfish because he was the one who left, but he didn’t want her to connect like that with anyone but him.
He glanced over at Bug and caught her staring. His stomach did an odd little flip. She quickly shut her eyes, and he averted his gaze to the horizon.
Heat crawled up his neck and his grip tightened on the yoke. What the hell? Why was being near her again making him so edgy? Probably because she wouldn’t accept his apology, which only made him feel more guilty.
He couldn’t change the past, so they needed to put it behind them and focus on the task at hand. This trip had to go smoothly. If he didn’t make it back to Kansas City in time for the interview and score the pilot gig, he’d never be able to afford the million-dollar home Hannah wanted in Sunset Hill.
But he would make things right with Bug before he left for Kansas City again. He really missed her, but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw her again. Maybe she could come out to visit him. He was gonna make more of an effort to stay in touch this time.
“So how is the lovely Hannah?” Saintervil said in a grating sing-song voice.
Griff tensed, but kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. The darkening clouds off to the east matched his mood. They were the only blemish to the clear blue sky.
“I catch her some mornings on the Meteorology Channel,” Saintervil continued.
Bug snorted. “When do you ever get up that early?”
“When my overnight guests wake me up with a sunrise surprise.”
Griff wanted to punch Saintervil in the mouth for putting that image in his head.
Sometimes Bug didn’t know when to leave things alone. “If you’re so preoccupied,” she said, “when do you find time to watch the weather?”
“What can I say, I’m a multitasker.”
“Will you shut up!” Turning around to reach for Saintervil, Griff bumped the wheel and the plane banked to the right.
Bug grabbed his arm to stop him, and the feel of her hands on his bare arm shocked some sense into him. Their eyes met, and the electrical current sparked by her touch traveled to his gut like a lit fuse and burst into a warm, shimmery fireworks display.
His gaze lowered to her lips, and he wondered not for the first time in his life what it would be like to kiss her.
“Are you insane?” Christian shouted. “I’m about to lose my breakfast back here.”
Bug shoved Griff’s arm away and braced her hand on the door to keep herself from falling against it.
It suddenly dawned on Griff that they were nearly at a right angle over the sea. He grabbed the yoke and leveled the wings, but once they were on course again, he glanced over at Bug.
She was relaxed and staring out the window as if nothing had happened.
“Where did you get your pilot’s license? Walmart?” Christian complained, though it was his own damn fault for distracting him.
“Why don’t you keep your mouth shut, and let me focus on flying.”
“You can’t shake the image of me kicked back in bed watching your honey break down the weather while some random hottie rides me into the ten-day forecast, can you?” Christian chuckled with delight.
“I swear, Saintervil, if you don’t shut your trap, I’m going to land this plane on the nearest airstrip and shut it for you.”
“Damn, Griff, you sound just like my dad. He couldn’t take a joke either. I didn’t think male prudes existed until I met you.”
Griff started to turn around again but stopped when Bug put her hand up. “Don’t let him get to you. He breaks your balls because you react like this.”
“He’s too easy,” Saintervil quipped.
“Shut up, Christian,” Bug glared at him, “or you’ll find my fist in your face, and I don’t need to be on the ground to put it there.”
“All right. All right. Sheesh. I forgot how alike you two are. Two angry peas in a humorless pod. How’d you ever survive without each other?”
Griff’s gaze met Bug’s.
A smile tugged the corner of her mouth.
He smiled too. She always had his back. How did he manage to live without her?
“Why did you let Christian come along if you know he’s just going to drive you nuts?”
Griff shrugged. “Because I owe Mitch a lot, and he’s really going to love that instrument panel if Saintervil isn’t BS-ing us.”
Christian leaned forward. “Uh, you both realize I can hear you?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Bug said, ignoring him. “He may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s loyal and, beneath the surface, he’s not such a bad guy.”
Griff couldn’t believe she was actually defending the guy. He waited for Christian’s lewd remark or slimy comeback, but for once, he kept his mouth shut.
Bug turned in her seat to face him. “If you want me to chip in for the gift, let me know. I’m sure Ax and Amanda wouldn’t mind either.”
“Thanks. That’s … actually kind of you.” Christian sounded sincere and maybe a touch bemused.
Griff definitely was.
“I, uh, I’ll let you know,” Christian said. “The instrument panel might not live up to the hype.”
“Well, even if it has some flaws, don’t give up on it. There’s still time to restore it if you think it’s worth the trouble.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Bug faced forward again and closed her eyes.
No, Griff didn’t know how he’d lived without her for the past year. The question was, had she found a way to live without him?