“Nice,” he said, impressed. “And you kept giving the lessons after you got your license.”
“Yeah, I still get more lessons than flights compared to say, Devon, who’s been working for two years less than I have.” She lifted a shoulder. “It’s the twenty-first century, but female pilots are still few and far between, and not always a client’s first choice. Even though women have been flying as long as men, it’s still very much a boys’ club. Jobs are a lot harder to find. I’m lucky to get to work so close to home, but I don’t always get a fair share of the flights.”
Reaching over, he pulled off her sunglasses and waited until she met his gaze. “I’d hire you over a male pilot any day of the week,” he said.
She snorted. “Shock,” she said, not taking him seriously.
Which was for the best.
“Anyway,” she went on, “for now at least, teaching brings in more money, and more money helps me to pay down my loans.” She shrugged again, philosophically. “So I teach.” She looked at him. “Now you.”
“Me what?”
“Tell me something about you.”
“Well, for starters, my world is a man’s world, too. In my field, men outnumber women five to one.”
“Would you work with a woman as a partner?” she asked.
“In a heartbeat,” he said.
She smiled. “That was quick. You did realize I didn’t mean sexual partner, right?”
He grinned. “Either way. Women are smarter, sharper, more interesting, and far more fun to be with. No matter what we’re partnering for.”
Rolling her eyes, she got to her feet. “You coming?”
“Think you can go get the car and bring it over here to get me?” he asked hopefully.
Some of the annoyance left her face. “That bad?” she asked, her voice softer, her eyes softer, too, as she offered him a hand up.
Liking that, not above using that, he accepted her help but then groaned at the movement.
“What the hell did Wyatt do to you?” she murmured, slipping an arm around him. “Here, lean on me.”
Hell, yeah, he’d lean on her. Slipping an arm over her shoulders, he turned his face into her hair—which smelled grade-A amazing—and let his lips skim her ear.
She jumped a little and whipped her face toward his.
Their mouths brushed.
He groaned again—not in pain this time—but she pulled back with a frown. “Why did you push yourself so hard?” she demanded.
“Gotta get better,” he said. “Get back in the game.”
“What game?”
“Game of life.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Life’s not a damn game. And you’ve got to give your body time to heal. What better time than now while you’re on a break from work?”
A break indeed . . . They walked through the animal center. Peanut was undead and telling off a cat, who was sleeping through the whole thing, curled up next to the printer. Gertie was snoozing in a sunny spot, a puddle of drool beneath her face.
Out front, Parker slid into Zoe’s passenger seat and set his head back. Zoe shoved her car into gear and hit the gas. Parker enjoyed watching her handle the road, but mostly he enjoyed how when she worked the clutch, her long legs shifted, forcing her skirt up higher on her thighs.
“You ever going to tell me how you really got hurt?” she asked.
“I already told you.”
“Fine.” She shook her head. “You don’t want to tell me, that’s . . . whatever. But you don’t have to make stuff up. No wondering, no worrying, no wishes, remember? Live in the moment?” She glanced at him. “Or was that all bullshit?”
He met her gaze, surprised to find her eyes flashing with temper and . . . hurt. Well, hell. “Not bullshit,” he said. “That’s how I live my life.”
“Uh-huh.” Her jaw was tight, her body language tense.
And he couldn’t keep himself from asking. “Who was he?”
“He who?”
“The asshole who put you so on guard all the time. What did he do?”