Page 51 of Come Fly with Me

“What?” Now it’s me confused.

“It’s Dook’s,” she says, smiling up at me.

“Dook’s?”

She shakes her head, laughing as she pulls me toward the bar. “Come on, Aussie,” she says, smiling. “Let’s go have a drink at Juke’s.”

We take a seat at the bar, both of us ordering Mai Tais, which come served in pineapples, complete with mini umbrellas, fruit and straws. Over drinks, Taylor tells me about all the places she’s flown to, the two of us competing for which one of us has visited the most countries around the world.

She wins, but only just, which I attribute to her only ever having flown commercial and me spending a chunk of my flying time in the military.

“So, when did you get out?” she asks, turning to fully face me on her barstool, her legs between mine, her feet resting on my footrest.

“About a year or so ago,” I say, sliding a hand up the warm skin of her thigh.

She closes an eye, staring at me with the other as though concentrating, or focusing really hard. “How old are you, Jake Campbell?” she asks.

I laugh. “Does it worry you?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Should it?”

“I’m twenty-eight,” I tell her, still laughing. “How old are you?”

Her brows narrow even more. “Thirty-one,” she replies. “Does that worry you?”

I reach over and pull her stool closer, the legs scraping along the wooden floor until she’s right between my legs. Leaning closer, I run both my hands up her thighs as I brush my mouth against hers. “Nothing about you worries me, Taylor,” I whisper, watching her face. “Nothing at all.”

Seventeen

Taylor

The restaurant seems to be growing busier, the bar even more crowded than it was when we first arrived, and any semblance of privacy we had is now gone. There are people surrounding us and that’s probably for the better because as the drinks keep flowing, we’re both growing more comfortable by the minute.

We’ve been teetering on the edge of something for a while now, something that is far more than just a casual hook up. But, as much as I want to go all-in, I’m still holding back. There’s always that nagging feeling that wanes in the back of my mind. I’ve been down this road of relationships and monogamy before, and it left me cheated on and divorced. It left me wondering if a quiet life with a supportive partner is just not in the cards for me.

I pick up my drink and look at Jake. He’s smiling at me, looking at only me despite the bar being packed with women younger and prettier than me. I put my hand on his cheek, a smile resting loosely on my lips, and I lean in to kiss him, whispering a small thank you to him for not being everything I thought he was.

He doesn’t respond or ask why, but suggests we see if we can get a table for dinner before the place fills up completely. As Jake walks over to the hosting stand, I slip into the bathroom to change out of my damp swimsuit and clothes, switching into the sundress that I packed in the backpack we took with us.

Despite the busyness, we luckily score a small table on the water with an amazing view of the setting sun and the peaceful sound of waves lapping at the shore. Surfers dot the horizon as they ride waves in as the day silently disappears. I can’t remember the last time I had a day, let alone an entire week, of unforced happiness. And as today ends, I know that it’s because of Jake. He’s the only constant, the only thing that has changed in my life. I can’t even begin to process what this means.

“So what’s your route look like when we get back?” Jake asks, picking up his beer and taking a drink, his beautiful green eyes looking at me from over the rim of the glass.

Never missing an opportunity to give him shit I respond with, “Why, you going to adjust your route to match mine?” I narrow my eyes at him and purse my lips, giving him a look that pretends to question his motives.

“I’d love to, but fuck me, that was a lot of work.” Jake lets out an overly dramatic sigh, letting his head fall back a little. “And that was only one flight.”

“Maybe I’ll change mine to match yours,” I tease back.

“You would never. You’re not the kind of girl who chases a guy. We both know that. But that’s also what makes you so hot.”

“Maybe I want to chase you.” I slip off my flip-flop and slide my foot along his leg, running the top of my foot up the inside of his calf.

“I’m not running,” he murmurs back, leaning his elbows on the table as he inches closer to me. The table is the only thing stopping us from taking this a step further.

I look around; the restaurant is packed with people who are completely unaware of the intense attraction that is happening between Jake and me, and I know now is not the place to continue exploring it. We’ve been pushing it further and further with every word, with every touch, with every unspoken look, and eventually we’re going to explode.

I want to ask him to leave with me right now. I want him to touch me, to explore my body with his large, rough hands. I want him to do everything he said during our text message exchange last night, but a part of me is also enjoying the lead-up, knowing that when it finally happens, it’s going to be off the fucking charts.

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