Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(32)

Noah wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his body. I felt ab ridges.

Gah.

He ducked his head so that his lips tickled my ear, his words loud enough for Easy to hear. “You look amazing in whatever you wear, babe.”

I went a little melty.

Easy laughed.

“So how was the rest of your Vegas trip?” I asked, wanting to get off the subject of my gargantuan suitcase pronto.

“Good,” Noah answered. “We had a few jets break getting back, so some guys are stuck out there still, but not exactly a hardship. There are a lot worse places you can get stuck.”

Easy made a face. “I’m still pissed about getting stuck in the desert.” His gaze shifted to me. “I had to make an emergency landing in a neighboring country when we deployed to the Mideast. It was intense.” He gestured toward Noah. “Meanwhile, these guys got back and took leave and went diving in the Caymans.”

“Does that happen a lot? Uh, jets breaking?”

I knew nothing about planes, but that kind of sounded like a big deal.

Easy snorted. “We’re flying planes that were built when some of us were born, so yeah. It happens. Not to mention, the maintainers have to do their part. Maintenance has been on its ass since we left for Red Flag.”

“So when you say jets break, are you guys flying them when this happens?”

Noah answered. “It depends. Sometimes it breaks before we take off and we have to step to another jet. Other times you can have a problem when you’re in the air.”

“What do you do then?”

“Depends on the problem. We have a checklist and procedures we go through in the event of an emergency. Some stuff isn’t a big deal; other stuff is a lot worse. Our job is to make the right judgment call and decide whether we should stick with the mission, fly home, divert to the nearest runway, or eject.”

I didn’t like the sound of “a lot worse.” Or “eject.” I didn’t like the sound of any of this. Or the way they casually discussed the plane “breaking” like it wasn’t a big deal. I guessed it came with the territory, but that didn’t make it any less intense. My idea of risk-seeking behavior was eating more cookies than the recommended serving size or making out with strangers on a dance floor. It wasn’t this casual disregard for personal safety.

“Have you ever ejected?” I asked Noah, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

He shook his head.

My gaze drifted to Easy. “You?”

“Only if she isn’t cute.” He grinned. “Sorry. Pilot humor.”

Wow, it was surprising that he could fit in the cockpit with a head that big.

Noah squeezed my leg. “I’m going to go change, okay? I’ll be right back.”

I was a little sad to see the flight suit go, but I nodded.

Easy jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Do you want a beer?”

I hesitated and then nodded again, feeling like I needed the liquid courage. I didn’t know what it was, but I had a hard time feeling comfortable around Easy. Maybe it was how hot he was or the fact that he so clearly knew it and knew that everyone else knew it, too. Noah was hot, but in a less obvious, cocky way. Easy was in-your-f*cking-face. And some part of me had been trained since puberty not to trust a guy who was too good looking. I found it hard to believe that Noah would be friends with a guy who was a dick, but the verdict was still out on Easy.

He got up from the couch, his long legs encased in worn denim, wearing a ratty-looking navy T-shirt, striding to the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a beer dangling from his hands. I wasn’t a huge beer drinker, but I didn’t really want to stand out as being high maintenance. Or more high maintenance than I already appeared to be.

My outfit, for one, was admittedly a little over the top. I’d channeled my motto of “go big or go home” when dressing for the flight. I’d ended up with a tight pair of ripped jeans, in a look that was basically, “I did a drummer last night,” and had gotten me some side-eye as I’d strutted through the airport—justifiably so. They were also a little tough to walk in considering I could barely breathe, but hey, fashion was pain, right? Because I apparently didn’t give a f*ck, I’d paired the jeans with stiletto boots that walked the thin line between high fashion and hooker. I wore a low-cut sweater and I’d teased my hair out into fat curls that spilled down my back. It was totally over the top, but it was also kind of me, and given the appreciation that had flashed in Noah’s eyes, it was definitely the look I was going for.

I took the beer from Easy, taking a sip, silence yawning between us. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, and I figured he knew I didn’t like him. I also figured he didn’t give a shit. Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair, and maybe I was wrong to judge a book by its cover, especially considering mine sort of screamed bimbo.

I took a sip of my beer. “Sorry to show up last minute. I’m sure you’re tired from being gone for so long and it’s probably a pain to have someone staying here right after you got back.”

Easy shrugged. “It was important to Noah.”

“You guys are really close, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “We were roommates in college. We’ve been close ever since. He’s like a brother.”

“He seems like a really good guy.”