Page 34 of Rocky Top

“Smooth,” I muttered, but my cheeks burned.

“Hold on tight,” he said, nodding toward the seat behind him.

When that engine roared and we peeled off into the winding roads that climbed through East Tennessee, I didn’t think about the woods. Or the nightmares. Or the looming weirdness that was now my life.

I just held on and breathed him in.

By the time we pulled into a small airfield in Sevierville, my legs were jelly, my hair was tangled, and I was pretty sure my heart had fallen somewhere around mile ten.

Rocky parked the bike, killed the engine, and turned to me. “Welcome to work.”

I pulled off the helmet, shaking out my hair. “You fly outtathis?”

The hangar was modest, tucked beside a long stretch of open field, with a few helicopters gleaming in the sunlight like giant dragonflies. A small office building sat off to the side, and a few tourists were already milling about with phones in hand.

“Sure do,” he said, dismounting and helping me down like a damn gentleman. “Don’t let the size fool you. We fly over Pigeon Forge, Gatlinburg, sometimes all the way into Cherokee.”

As he led me toward the building, heads turned.

Every woman in the place, and I meanevery single one, looked at him like he was a damn movie star. One of the receptionistspractically tripped over her own feet trying to get to the counter before we walked in.

“Rocky!” she squealed. “You’re early.”

“Got someone special with me,” he said, placing a hand on the small of my back.

I smiled politely. The girl blinked at me, clearly recalibrating her flirt settings.

“Oh! Well. That’s nice.”

Rocky didn’t elaborate. Just kept his hand on me as he walked me past the front desk and into the staff lounge.

“She’ll be hangin’ around today,” he told the others, a group of guys in flight gear who nodded and waved.

Rocky was different here. He wasn’t scowling or barking orders. He laughed with his crew, gave instructions without ego, and checked over his copter with a precision that made me stop and stare.

There was something insanely attractive about a man good at his job. Confident without being cocky. Strong without flexing. Passionate without needing to talk about it.

Surprising the hell outta me, Rocky was all of that.

Apparently, he knew how to make a woman swoonandfly a bird through mountain fog.

Hot damn.

He didn’t fly until after noon, so we shared a picnic lunch on a bench overlooking the field. Rocky had packed club sandwiches and banana pudding in a mason jar. He bought me a sweet tea from the vending machine and every kind of chip known to man.

“Not sure what kind you like,” he said, giving me an armful of silver bags.

“You made this?” I asked, digging in to the pudding first thing.

“My mama’s recipe,” he said, popping a chip into his mouth. “I ain’t terrible in the kitchen. You always eat desert first?”

I bit my lip. “Can’t always save the best for last. Never know what will happen.”

“Like what?”

“Might get too full. Those sandwiches are huge.”

Rocky was biting his lip now.

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