Page 38 of Wild Card

When everyone was gathered, Tremaine rocked back on his heels. “I’m pretty fucking excited to tell you all that I’ve talked one of the world’s finest jet jockeys into hanging up his combat wings, and joining us here at the training center. He’s an outstanding pilot and an exemplary human being, with the patience to put up with my special brand of bullshit. I’d ask you all to make sure he feels right at home, but you’ve already handled that task with your usual class and style. Well, you big braw boy, stop skulking in the hall!”

Tremaine’s last few words were drowned by the hoots, shouts, and applause that broke out before he was done.

Braw Boy.

Sam’s call-sign.

What. The. Hell?

Jen barely treaded water in the storm surge of the celebration. She stood, frozen as ice, jostled as everyone rushed and crowded the grinning giant who’d entered behind Tremaine. Well…she assumed he was grinning. From here, all she could see were the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, as well as the gusto with which he hugged every last person in that throng who greeted him.

Which, damn it, made her love him even more.

He always had something for everyone: a warm smile, a listening ear, a compassionate hug. There was a reason Tremaine had pursued him. People were inspired to be their best for him and with him.

But what if he didn’t have anything left for her?

She didn’t—couldn’t—dare to have hope about the reason for his bold decision. No matter how much of the “new” Jenny he’d brought to life during their fantasy night, enough of the old girl existed to make her hang back, still rooted to her spot, clutching the paper she’d been a few steps from filing.

A few steps.

Ten feet away from landing herself across the world from him again.

“Jenny?”

She blinked and looked up, just in time to watch him part the crowd, approaching the counter at which he’d camped so many times just to shoot the shit with her. This time, he didn’t stop at the shelf. Parked one hand on the ledge and vaulted right over.

He landed directly in front of her.

As the room fell to silence, Sam cupped the sides of her neck. “Jenny?”

She lifted her head. He was dressed in flight gear too—and damn, it looked even better from up close. “Yeah?” she finally whispered.

His lips twitched, unveiling an expression she’d never seen on his face before. Was he…nervous? “Say something. You look like a bomb just dropped.”

“Hasn’t it?”

More of the nervousness. It entered his eyes now, turning them into shadows. His hold slackened. “Then you’re not happy about this?”

She blinked again. Lifted a hand to his broad chest, directly over his heart. “Oh, God. Sam.” She wasn’t handling this right at all. If her dreams really were coming true—if he’d given up the green beauty of his land and the familiarity of his home to come live in the desert, with her—then a simple word like “happy” wasn’t enough to contain any of the joy she felt…even a fraction of her heart’s exultation.

“Well, that’s fine, then.” He stepped away. Yanked his hands back, fingers stiff, as if he were suddenly sure he’d break her. “I suppose I…assumed things I shouldn’t have after our time together. Now I’m in a world of sorry about it, too.” In a guttural growl, he added, “To both you and me.”

“Sam!” But her plea didn’t stop him from whirling from her—forcing her to race around, plant herself before him, and shove the sheet in her hand right into his. “Tell me who was the one assuming things, Captain Mackenna?”

His stare was still dark with fury. As he read the first line of the request, it changed to confusion. Then as his lips moved over the text, exploded with astonishment. “Lakenheath?” His head snapped up. “You were going to—”

“Ten more seconds and it would’ve been submitted.” She closed the gap between them. Uncaring of who watched or even took a damn video—and she wouldn’t put it past Lola, because this was much better YouTube fodder than her cats singing old Rod Stewart tunes—she lifted a hand to his perfect, rugged face. “And you would’ve been worth it, Sam Mackenna. All five thousand miles.”

His gray eyes smoldered once again—but this time, in all the right ways. He didn’t veer that beautiful stare as he tore her transfer request in half, tossed both pieces over his shoulders, then reached out for her—

And crashed their mouths together.

Jen was conscious of more woots and claps, but she barely heard the din past the rockets blazing across her senses, the happiness exploding in her heart. Sam wrapped his arms around her with the same jubilance, his grip as dominant as his kiss, his groan matching the need in her sigh. His tongue rammed between her lips before dancing with hers, leaving her with no mistake about who got to lead. No way was she about to argue. No way did she want to.

A part of her almost didn’t believe this was happening. Their love story was the longshot, not the sure thing. The circle aligning with the square. The friendship that had quirked everyone’s brows—and likely did even now, despite their loud cheers.

They were the wild card of a lifetime.

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