Page 17 of The Pilot & the Athlete

“Me too.”

Paul drew in a breath, not wanting to stew about it. He closed his eyes and said a heartfelt prayer of gratitude in his head that he had been in the right place at the right time torescue her. The thought of those men having their way with her … his palms grew clammy and bile crawled up his throat.

Clint stayed silent and Paul found himself asking heaven for help. He was often in seemingly impossible situations and things worked out one way or another. With Shay being the person he was protecting, he couldn’t handle the thought of things not working out to keep her alive, safe, healthy, happy, and someday soon able to train for and pursue her Olympic dreams again. Would she be too old in four years to go for the Olympics? He would not frame that question to her.

He smiled to himself. Would she say that was ‘cringe’ or worse? The teenage terminology from a mature and accomplished woman like Shay was refreshing and made him smile. She’d started using the verbiage to connect with her younger teammates and the teenage athletes she coached. It was so like Shay to work to make others comfortable and not in awe of her star status. He’d tried to do the same when he visited home and everyone treated him like a hero.

They pulled up to the ranch gate, got clearance with the guard, and drove along the tree-lined road, past the main cabin and barns and along another tree-lined route to a cabin with the front porch lights on and a lamp in one of the front windows. Lieutenant Miles Coleville’s cabin. Miles was a SEAL and rarely here.

Clint stopped the truck. Paul jumped out, swung his backpack on, and opened the front door.

Shay jumped, yelled, “No shot!” and took a swing at him.

Paul ducked and grasped her smaller hands in his. Her eyes were wild.

“Shay, it’s me. Paul. You’re safe.”

“Paul.” Her eyes calmed. She pushed out of the truck andflung her arms around his neck. “I had the worst dream. Scuzzy men were all over me and …” She trailed off. “It was real.” She shuddered. “Oh, cringe. It was real, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he admitted.

“Can you hold me, please?” Her gaze was desperate.

He cradled her against his chest, sweeping her legs off the ground. Shay was tall and strong for a woman, but it was easy for him to hold her aloft.

“I’m here,” he whispered against her silky hair. “I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss against her hairline and suddenly that was all he could think about—her hair, her skin, her lips.

“You are the GOAT, definitely.” Her beautiful teal eyes gave him a worshipful look. She cuddled into him, wrapping her arms tight around his upper back. She sighed sweetly and closed her eyes.

Paul wanted to stand there and savor holding her for a very long time, but Clint was waiting in front of the truck, looking the other direction. He didn’t want to make it awkward for Clint and it was after three in the morning. The sheriff would probably love to get them settled and head home.

He carried her across the grass and up the cabin steps. She felt firm and substantial and warm and too alluring in his arms. The wide front porch was adorned with rocking chairs. Could he and Shay sit out here and rock, hold hands and talk like a couple of old, happily married people?

Whoa. That image needed to be pushed away.

Clint hurried in front of him, pushing the handle down and swinging the door wide. “The master is upstairs on the right side of the loft,” Clint said. “I’ll wait so I can show you the security.”

“Thank you.” Paul nodded to the cowboy, who took his hat off and tilted his chin up.

Paul strode across the main area, dimly lit with a couple lamps. It was an open-concept living room, dining room, and kitchen. Spacious yet cozy. Especially cozy with Shay curled against his chest. Her eyes were closed but she clung to him, so he knew she was awake. He ascended the stairs and her eyes fluttered open.

“How are you carrying me so easily?”

“I’m just swole like that.”

She laughed and he could imagine he’d used the term wrong.

“Where are you depositing me?” she asked.

“Clint suggested you take the master bedroom.” He smiled as he heard Clint grunt.

“That’s bussin. Tell the hot cowboy thanks.”

“I think you already did,” Paul said, pausing and glancing back down at Clint as he reached the loft area.

Clint tilted his chin up and then leaned against the wall, settling in to wait. Paul could imagine Clint was a ‘hot cowboy’, but Paul didn’t appreciate hearing that from Shay’s pretty mouth.

She laid her head in the crook of his neck and her lips brushed the sensitive skin of his neck. Paul sucked in a breath, the warmth from her lips on his neck spreading throughout his body. He turned and hurried into the room on the right. The bed was turned down, and a lamp on a low setting decorated the nightstand. The Colevilles were great, especially Mama Coleville.

---