Page 36 of Love and Other Trials
He’d known he was attracted to her.
He hadn’t expected to start falling for her so fast.
Then again, his whole life was governed by how fast he could do something. It had been that way since Top Gun. He made lifesaving 180-degree turns when necessary. He lived minute to minute. Second to second. Had to, as a pilot. He knew when things were lining up to hit the target, and tonight, here, everything was lining up. He could see their interactions almost like a flight checklist before he took off.
Attraction? Check.
Shared values? Check.
Fun factor? Check.
Friendship? Check.
Partnership? Check.
Trust? Check.
So often on dates, he’d felt like he wasn’t getting the full story. The woman across the table from him was too packaged. Like wearing dress whites on special occasions. Not the everyday wear of life. He hadn’t liked the feeling of disconnect. But Ariel was straight up and straightforward.
Yes, she was something really special.
He glanced over as she started singing a Miley Cyrus song quietly from the passenger seat—rather badly, which only seemed more endearing—and couldn’t help but join in.
When they arrived at the resort, she broke off singing, and he noted the reason immediately as he gazed through the windshield. The Three Tornadoes were bearing down on them from the lobby, dressed in yoga pants, attitude in every exaggerated catwalk stride.
Sherlock gave a rare whine. Dax couldn’t blame him.
“Were they staking me out, sitting on the lobby’s front porch?” She groaned and gave Sherlock’s angular head a good rub. “God! You’d better get on to the cottage. I might be a while.”
He didn’t like the way they were scowling at her. Maybe it was all the garlic references—they hadn’t stopped for any despite the joking—but he wondered if her sisters went to secret vampire meetings. “I’m not leaving you alone with them.”
She turned her head, her mouth parted slightly. Yeah, even he was surprised by the sour note in his voice.
“I’ll be all right, Dax.” Her reassuring hand was as heavy as her voice. “I’ve been handling them my whole life.”
That didn’t make it right. “But I’m here now, and we’re in this together.”
Because while he’d come here with a clear mission—to get his best friend married—his new mission was her.
Someone knocked on the window, making Ariel jump in her seat. “Hey, y’all!” Terry called, waving crazy hands. “Are you getting out?”
Tiffany stood at the end of the hood, hands at her hips. Okay, she wasn’t so much the vampire society member as she was Frankenstein’s Bride come to life, he decided, what with her face stretched with tension and her platinum blond hair big and crazy in the breeze. Her mask was clearly slipping, and he wondered if Rob had noticed. Then again, his friend had been drinking more than usual, and that meant he was using alcohol as escapism, a habit that went back to his teenage days when he’d run wild before deciding to up and join the military.
“Get out of there!” Tricia knocked on the window, making Sherlock give a loud ruff.
“Want to speed off and never come back?” he asked.
“You have no idea how bad,” she told him with a sigh, “but duty calls.” Opening the door, she said, “Hey there! How was dinner at the chophouse?”
“Good!” Tricia hugged her, practically hanging on to her, likely from drinking too much. “I know you hate eating there because it’s so fancy, but you should have come. Mother told us all about your new wig. We want to see.”
“Yes!” Terry echoed as Dax got out of the Bronco. “Mom says Dax picked it out.”
“Yes, this we all can’t wait to see.” Tiffany was looking down her nose at him. “I didn’t know you were an expert on wigs, Dax.”
“We naval captains have to be experts in all sorts of things.” Inspiration struck. “Wigs are part of disguise training. If we’re ever downed in enemy territory, we have to know how to blend in. So I was the perfect person to select it. Plus, I’m a guy. I know what looks good on a woman.”
Tiffany hummed sensually. “Is that so?”
