Page 37 of Wild Card

Okay, a little different.

Different to the tune of five thousand miles.

She gazed at his tiny avatar picture again. She had a dozen bigger ones in the photos folder but this was her favorite, snapped as he’d come in after a kick-ass training hop one day. His hair was sweaty and tousled, his grin wide and bright.

How she loved him.

How she wanted to capture that smile on his face every day. To spoil him rotten with her cooking every night, and her blow jobs every morning. To massage the aches from his shoulders, and kiss away the demons from his deployments. To let him call her his sexy, sassy little mouse…and to feel his hand on her ass when she stopped believing it for herself.

She wanted their one night for every night.

Because of that, she was going to ride the elevator to the roof again. Then jump off the building.

Figuratively, of course.

But just as terrifyingly.

If she wound up on the sidewalk as a symbolically smashed pancake, so be it. Better a pancake who’d tried than a ball of batter who’d stayed in the bowl, playing life safe.

The decision blazed through her, firing down her right arm. No second thoughts. Do it.

She lifted the pen waiting on the desk, then signed the document she’d completed this morning in perfect detail. The second she finished, Lola appeared. Though technically on the same pay scale and rank as Jen, Lola pretended she saw more and knew more than everyone in the office. She tossed back her frizzy dark hair, hennaed this week to a shade nearing purple, and chomped on her gum while lifting the page bearing Jen’s new signature.

“So. You’re really gonna do this? A transfer to Lakenheath?”

“Yes.” She snatched the sheet back, weirdly protective of it. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately.”

“Yeah.” Lola smirked. “A lot.” She tapped at the phone resting on the desk—still open to Sam’s text page.

Jen kicked up her chin. The flat pancake plan was looking better by the second, when she realized Lola would be out of her life. “The base is five miles from Cambridge University,” she asserted. “They’ve got amazing public education courses.”

“Right. Sure. Cambridge. There’s a reason to upend your life.”

Jen maintained her stance. Cambridge was going to be a pretty good part of the pancake consolation package, if everything came to that. If. She wasn’t committed yet. As long as the transfer request was in her hands, she still had the chance to shred it and forget it. Once she walked the sheet across the office and dropped it onto the right stack, wheels would officially be in motion. She’d already talked to the hiring officer at Lakenheath. They badly needed someone like her in the personnel office, so her request would be fast-tracked for processing.

Every step she took across the tiled floor was like a rifle shot in her ears.

Think of other things. Focus on the logistics first. They’re safer. Stop at the PX for moving boxes. Call the utilities companies to set dates for shut-offs.

Practice what you’re going to tell Sam…

Okay, so logistics wouldn’t work.

She had no choice but to grit it out, step by agonizing step.

The hugest change of her life.

For a man who’d never even said the damn words to her.

You never said them either, girl. When it was time for the big three, you wussed out on him too. Maybe that’s whyhe’s stayed away.

Halfway there.

The office door whooshed opened as if a Cat Five hurricane closed in. Coincidentally, “Cat Five” was the radio call-sign for Major Skip Tremaine, the man who headed the base’s cross-training program. He was the ideal candidate for the position. With a nose sharp as an F-18’s and a haircut never departing from a strict high-and-tight, the guy was only missing rocket boosters in his backside.

“Ladies!” Tremaine opened both arms like a circus conductor—an image making everyone giggle, since he was still in flight gear. “Eyes up. Attention, please. I have an announcement.”

Again, everyone laughed, though shuffled over out of respect for the guy. Cat Five got excited about a lot of things. Murmurs rippled through the group. Some speculated he’d announce the commissary had agreed to reinstate Taco Tuesdays. Many more banked on the guy revealing his newest tattoo.

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