Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(80)

The blond guy introduced himself as Easy, the other one as Merlin, and the dark-haired guy who was “mine” told me his name was Bandit between pulls of beer.

I blinked.

Boy band? Professional wrestlers? Guys reliving their high school years?

My gaze swept from Rachel to Julie and back again, wondering why I seemed to be the only one concerned about the fact that a group of thirty-something-year-old men had just introduced themselves by such bizarre monikers. Were they part of some preppy motorcycle gang?

“Umm . . .”

“They’re fighter pilots,” Julie announced with a grin, her body angled toward the one called Merlin.

Oh, hell to the no.

Considering Shaw Air Force Base was only an hour away from Columbia and two hours from my hometown, I’d always considered it a stroke of good fortune that I’d managed to avoid meeting any of the F-16 pilots who called South Carolina their temporary home.

Apparently, my luck had changed.

I’d known one fighter pilot in my entire life, and since that experience had left me completely and utterly f*cked—and not just in a screaming-orgasm sort of way—once had been enough.

“Why don’t you sit next to me?” Bandit asked, patting the seat of an empty barstool.

Rachel and Julie flashed me encouraging smiles. One of the great things about making new friends was the fact that they didn’t know your every failure or all your flaws. But that meant they also had no clue that this was basically my own personal version of hell.

One night. I’d just wanted one night to go out, have fun, meet a cute guy, and maybe get laid. Okay, so sex was definitely off the table considering lady town had gone into lockdown mode at the phrase “fighter pilot,” but that didn’t mean I still couldn’t have a good time. I mean it wasn’t like Eric was here. And how many F-16 pilots could there be in the world? Maybe they didn’t even know him.

I climbed up onto the bar stool, a lead weight settling in my stomach. I’d stay for a drink. Then all bets were off.

“Can I get you something?” Bandit asked.

“That’s okay. I’ll get it.” I turned and caught the bartender’s attention, ordering a glass of wine for myself, feeling like I’d brought the group’s mood down considerably. Everyone was in full-on flirt mode, the couples clearly paired off for the night, and I felt bad for the one they called Bandit for getting stuck with me.

I turned back to face the group while I waited for the bartender to pour my glass of wine, pasting a smile on my face.

“So how long have you guys been stationed at Shaw?”

“I’ve been there for a year.” He gestured toward Easy and Merlin. “They’re visiting from Bryer Air Force Base . . . here for a buddy’s bachelor party last night . . .”

I heard Bryer and my world came to a crashing stop.

Motherf*cker.

The world really was way too small.

I wasn’t one of those girls who kept in touch with her exes—not the ex, at least—the one who took my heart and shattered it, then ran over it with his car, and for an encore set it on fire. We weren’t friends on social media, everyone who knew me from before, who’d known us, knew better than to bring him up with me. But at the same time, we were both from a small town, and even though he hadn’t come home for the better part of a decade, he was the local boy who’d hit it big, the troublemaker who’d turned it around, joined the military, and become an officer and fighter pilot. So I’d heard that Eric was living in Oklahoma. That he flew F-16s there. And despite all my best intentions not to keep tabs on him, he was frequently in the back of my mind. I’d waited for years, my heart in my throat, wondering when someone would mention in passing that he’d gotten married, mentally steeling myself for the inevitable blow that ultimately didn’t come.

Then again, he’d made his choice clear a decade ago when I’d lost out to a hunk of metal. Maybe he didn’t wear a wedding band on his finger, but he’d promised ’til death do us part all the same.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if they knew Eric—I figured the fighter community was pretty small, the F-16 community even smaller, and Bryer its own little world—but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. On one hand, didn’t everyone want to win the “who’s doing better” contest after a breakup? I didn’t want him to be suffering or anything, but if he was desolate in my absence, had developed a weird fetish where he’d stopped clipping his toenails, and had lived a hermit’s life for the last decade, I wouldn’t exactly shed a tear.

“We were going to Tin Roof to see if there’s any music playing. Want to come?” Bandit asked.

I considered his offer for a moment. “Yeah, maybe I’ll come for a bit.”

I could just casually mention him. No big deal, right?

“We’re just waiting on our buddy, Thor,” Bandit whispered in my ear, a flirty smile on his face. I had to give the guy some credit—I had the personality of a wet mop tonight and he was still looking to score.

“Okay.” I took a sip of my wine, making an effort to smile, feeling a little guilty for ruining this guy’s shot at getting laid. Would it be weird if I casually mentioned that nothing was going to happen? It would give him a chance to find someone else for the night, at least.