“I say I’ve got to get going.”

“So that’s a yes, right?” he called out as she headed down the hall toward the side exit to get to the other hangars.

She stopped and turned back. “Joe, I’ve got a bunch of paperwork to finish, weather to check, flight plans to file, and I need to check on the Cessna Caravan. I’ve got lessons and a flight.”

“Actually, you’ve got two flights,” he corrected. “And the Caravan’s still grounded.”

It had been grounded for a month for repairs and maintenance, way longer than either of them had expected, but she’d been told it would be done today. “Still?”

“Yeah. You’ve got the—” He flipped through the schedule. “—Cardinal today.”

“How much longer on the Caravan?” Zoe loved the sturdy single-engine Cessna.

Joe shrugged. “I’ve lit a fire under maintenance.”

Dammit. There was nothing wrong with the Cardinal, which was also a perfectly capable single-engine, but the Caravan had a turbine engine, so it had more oomph and was way more fun to fly. “And what do you mean two flights?” she asked. “There’s only one on the books.”

“I added a new one last night and moved your schedule all around, delaying your lessons. Sorry, I forgot to text you.” He flashed his smile again. “Okay, so I guess I need two favors. But hey, you’re going to get paid for the flight.”

She hated when he messed with her schedule. She actually made more money on the flight lessons she gave, which helped her pay off her loans. Getting a pilot’s license and keeping it was incredibly expensive. “You do remember the last time I did you a favor?” she asked. “I ended up flying your mother to Breckinridge and we got snowed in? Do you have any idea what it’s like to spend three days with your mother?”

“I’m familiar,” he said with a shudder. “Which is why I paid you to do it.”

“It was her seventieth birthday,” Zoe said, “and she was meeting—and I quote her here—her boy toy.”

Joe laughed. “Yeah, you probably deserved double time on that one.”

Zoe looked around, suddenly worried. “She’s not my additional flight today, is she?”

“No. He is.” Joe gestured to the man walking in the front door, his long legs eating up the space, his every movement exuding an easy confidence.

Parker James.

Completely of its own volition, Zoe’s gaze ran over him from head to toe. He was of course fully dressed now, but that didn’t matter. She could still see him as he’d been in her shower earlier, the room steamy and humid, his long, lean, hard body slick with water and soap running in rivulets down it.

She stared at him, doing her best to hold back all the tumbling mass of emotions hitting her at once. Normally she was good at that, really good, but naturally her one really good life skill deserted her, leaving everything she felt all over her face. Annoyance. Embarrassment.

And let’s not forget the very reluctant lust.

Parker stared at her right back. Not annoyed. Not embarrassed. As for what he was feeling, he kept his own counsel.

Damn him. And then Joe’s words sank in.

Parker was her first flight?

“Zoe,” Joe said. “This is—”

“You,” she said to Parker.

He smiled. She didn’t know all of the smiles in his wheelhouse yet, but she labeled this one The Big Bad Wolf.

Five

Joe divided a look between Zoe and Parker. “You two know each other?”

“Little bit,” Zoe said.

Parker said nothing.

“So . . . old friends?” Joe asked.

Zip from Parker. A silent alpha. One more thing to add to the list of reasons why Zoe was not going to like him, despite what he looked like naked.

“Not old friends,” she said.

“New friends?” Joe asked. He was speaking directly to Parker now, but Parker didn’t appear interested in defining their relationship.

Or lack of one.

Zoe sighed. “He’s living with me,” she said, and Joe, who’d just taken an unfortunate sip of coffee, choked, and snorted coffee out his nose.

“Goddammit,” he muttered when he could talk.

“Parker’s a friend of Wyatt’s,” Zoe said. “It’s a favor. Apparently I’m just full of favors today,” she added.

Joe was mopping up the coffee he’d spilled with some papers on the counter. “Dottie’s going to kill me.”

Dottie was his office manager, and even though she was married to Devon, their other pilot-for-hire, she terrified Joe.

Not Zoe’s problem. She turned to Parker. “Where are we heading?”

“Rocky Falls,” he said.

“There’s no airport up there.”

“I need to see the layout, no landing required.”

Rocky Falls was the northernmost county in the state. It was mostly open, rugged, isolated, nearly uninhabitable forestland, bordered by a few far-reaching ranches. Just past those, the growth was so thick, seeing anything from the air but a blanket of green sliced with the occasional blue ribbon of rivers and tributaries was all but impossible. “I thought you were here on vacay,” she said.

“Yep. I’m sightseeing.”

Uh-huh. “There’s nothing to sightsee out there except trees.”

“I like trees.”

She laughed. “That’s ridiculous. There are far cheaper ways to see trees.”

“Jeez, don’t tell him that,” Joe said, and looked at Parker. “She’s not much of a saleswoman. Don’t listen to her. I gave you a really good rate for your two hours.”

Zoe kept her gaze on Parker. She had a good bullshit detector and it was going off now. Blaring, in fact. But if he wanted to pay a small fortune to “sightsee,” what did she care? “I’ve got to get the weather, file a flight plan, and perform a flight check.” She eyed her watch. “Wheels up in forty-five.”

With that, she about-faced and exited the glass door opposite the front desk, heading across the tarmac to the Cardinal tied down there. She was already busy running through her preflight in her head: tire pressure, oil and fuel levels, flight controls, cowlings . . .

“Zoe.”

She stilled in the early-morning sun and slowly turned to face Parker, who’d followed her out. He wore his clothes with the same ease he’d worn nothing at all. And dammit, she really needed to stop thinking about that.

“Do we have a problem?” he asked.

Other than she knew that the promise his body made in clothes was kept when he was out of them? “No.”

“Is it about this morning?”

“What about this morning?” she asked, going for an innocent tone but ruining it by flushing.

Because she knew exactly what about this morning.

His eyes revealed his amusement. “If it would make things less awkward, I’ll be happy to walk in on your next shower.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Is that why you stood there staring for a full three minutes?” he asked. “Drooling?”

“I . . . it wasn’t three minutes!” She put her hands to her hot cheeks. “And you’re the dishonest one. You said you weren’t hurt that badly, but your ribs—”