Divine (19 page)

Travis climbed from the plane’s cockpit to
the wing and jumped to the pavement. “Sure am.”

“That baby’s gonna miss you.” Allen nodded
his head at Travis’ plane one spot over.

Yeah, he’d miss her and the adrenaline rush
of seeing the excited faces when he brought loved ones home. “It’s
time.” Way past. He’d dove into Search and Rescue when his kid
brother Matt went into the military and dug further in after his
brother was hurt in combat and lost a leg. Not being in a position
to help his brother or fellow Marines overseas, he did what he
could by saving the lives of United States citizens. He’d done so
numerous times with only a few fatalities. With each loss, a piece
of his soul ripped from him, wounding him that much more. After
almost face planting his plane into the side of the mountain… He
sucked in a breath. The job that had been his life and given him
purpose lost its power. No longer did he possess the strength to
help others in life or death situations.

“Finally moving to Montana?”

With scenic tours in mind, two years ago he
purchased enough land in the Bluebird Valley to build a house and a
small airstrip. Then he convinced his brother to move there. At
first, Matt snubbed the idea. When things went south with his
now-wife Trina, he did the unbelievable and built her childhood
dream business. Matt had found peace, a loving home, and won back
Trina. Hopefully, Travis’ hardened heart would find it, too.
“Yep.”

“You leaving her here or selling her?”

He grinned at Allen when he referred to his
airplane as a “she.” Being in the plane day in and night out, it
reminded him of a woman. She kept him warm and cozy and he relied
on her. The type of woman he’d like to find … one day. Maybe if he
came to terms with the fear of losing someone he loved enough to
invest in a relationship. “I can’t sell her.” The plane was part of
him. “Pete and Phil want to bring her to Montana in a week or two.
Are you good with her here until then?”

“As long as you want, buddy. Free of charge.
It’s the least I can do for finding my dog.” Allen chuckled.
“Especially since you convinced my wife that
I
found her
mutt. I haven’t had sex like that since…”

The only sign slim and fit Allen was almost
seventy years old. The way he talked about sex gave men of all ages
hope their love life wouldn’t die. “Maybe I should fake a
rescue.”

His wife’s male Bichon Frise disappeared
after chasing a female Yorkie Terrier. It took two days to find the
small dog wedged in the rocks. Glad to help a friend, he wanted no
parts of putting a person in the position to think he or she lost
someone or something. “If you do, you’re on your own.”

Allen kicked a loose pebble on the pavement.
“I’ll think of something.”

“I’m heading to Venture Seekers. Want to
go?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Travis grabbed his knapsack off the ground
and nodded to a few familiar ground workers as he crossed the lot.
With his lifestyle, he didn’t stay in one place long. Occasionally,
he hung out at Matt’s in Montana or his childhood home in Maryland.
For the most part, he went wherever the work took him. It’d be nice
to keep his feet planted for a while.

He opened the restaurant’s door. The scent
of grease zinged his nose, radio static irritated his ears, and
smoke stung his lungs, just like every time he visited. It took a
second for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The non-smoking
establishment didn’t enforce the non-smoking law. Well, they did if
they happened to catch someone smoking inside the restaurant. Most
patrons burned a cigarette outside, near the rear exit. When the
door opened, smoke drifted in from the push of the industrial size
fans cooling the air conditioning units.

He noted the handful of filled tables and
made his way to the bar. “Hey Phil, the usual,” he said and stowed
his pack on the floor near his barstool.

“You got it,” Phil yelled from the other end
of the bar and disappeared through the swinging door leading to the
kitchen. A moment later, he returned holding a filled glass topped
with a mint leaf and set it on the bartop in front of Travis.

“Where are the customers? You scare them
with your ugly mug?” he teased.

Phil swiped a hand over his crew cut. “It’s
not me who scared them off.”

“It’s the alien music then.”

Phil glanced at the radio nailed to the far
wall and shrugged. “It’ll fix itself in a minute. Always does, but
that’s not the problem either. A well-liked woman in the community
died earlier. Mrs. Fries.”

His mouth went dry. He hated hearing about
death. “Never heard of her.”

“I don’t expect you would since you don’t
leave the airport.”

A Search and Rescue mission was the only
time. It kept him meeting women on a surface level. At the smaller
airports, he encountered only the regulars: women who didn’t mind a
one-nighter with no attachment. They knew his game and weren’t
looking for anything more than a good time. “Nope, and I
won’t.”

“One day, a woman will walk into your life
and knock your socks off.”

“Doubtful.” He chuckled and gulped the
ice-cold liquid moistening his palate. Just because he didn’t think
he should get involved with someone didn’t mean he didn’t want it.
He dealt with too many deaths. Watched too many broken hearts, and
had his life ripped apart when his dad died then his mom. If he
fell for someone, he’d be marked for more pain.

Phil rested his elbows on the bar.

“Damn, you gonna go all bartender-shrink on
me? I’d rather have my food and be gone.”

“Come to think of it, you have met the lady
who passed,” Phil said, not paying any attention to Travis’
rantings. “A few weeks ago, she came in to check out my new job.
You talked to her. Bebe.”

The woman who wore her long gray hair in a
ponytail talked for hours, asking endless questions about his job
and Montana. “Nice lady.”

“Kept an eye on everyone. I imagine she dug
into your life. It’s what she does … did.”

No talking sad
. “I’m heading to Big
Sky Country tonight,” he said as an unfamiliar kick raced through
him.

“Tonight? It’s a long flight in the
dark.”

“You scared for me?” He chuckled.

“Phft.” Phil straightened. “Not hardly.
There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Out of everyone, he didn’t figure he’d have
to worry about Phil or Pete trying to set him up on a date,
considering each brother enjoyed the bachelor lifestyle. “Not
interested.”

The kitchen door swung open, and a woman
Travis recognized as one of the
regulars
placed his order in
front of him. “Thank you, darling.” He grinned and bit into a fry.
This he could handle, easy, no sparks to set his insides on
fire.

“Anytime, sugar cakes. I get off at
nine.”

A missed opportunity. “I have to leave
before then. Next time.” They talked about having sex as if a
meeting, a catching up of friends. In essence, it was—lonely people
comforting each other without giving their hearts.

She sent him a pinch-faced smile and scooted
into the kitchen.

“Sugar cakes?” Pete’s laughter boomed behind
him.

Pete showing up at where his brother worked
didn’t surprise him. Irish twins, born within a year of each other,
Pete and Phil stayed hooked at the hip. “Eavesdrop much?” He kept
the censure out of his voice. Being obnoxious wasn’t his thing, but
he’d had an odd feeling all day as if something life changing would
happen that he hadn’t planned. The sensation probably hit since he
performed his last Search and Rescue mission. Change was hard, he
didn’t wear it well, and it showed in his aggressive responses that
he tried to keep control. Phil and Pete knew him well enough to
ignore him.

He bit into his steak and cheese sandwich,
let the flavors of provolone, onions, peppers, and mushrooms quench
his appetite. For the past few days, he had consumed MREs—Meals
Ready to Eat—and craved hot food. He’d assisted in a rescue of a
teen lost in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Other than a little
dehydrated, the teen was fine. “You two go to the bathroom
together, too?” he asked between bites.

“Sometimes.” Pete dropped onto the barstool
beside him. “We’re the dynamic duo and this is,” he motioned to the
person standing beside him and slipped a hand around her waist,
“our good friend…”

Whatever Pete said faded. A willowy woman
with her hair pulled back sloppily on the sides, clipped at her
crown. The long locks fell past her shoulders. A bracelet enclosed
around her bicep with some sort of snake on it. He noted her
see-through black shirt, black bra, blue jean shorts frayed at the
edges, and her hiking boots. A loner, not his type, but parts of
his anatomy wasn’t on board with his attribute list and went rock
hard.

Light, electrifying gray eyes rounded on him
while her mouth parted. Thoughts of learning every inch of her
rushed through his mind.
Damn,
the heat in the place
increased.

Her chest heaved and her breath hitched. For
a long beat of time, neither of them moved until she evidently
gathered her senses since she let out a throaty groan. “This is the
guy you expect me to hitch a lift with?”

Travis blinked, his faculties rushing back
under control from the momentary sex-lust-brain-fart. “Lift?” he
asked Phil, who decided working on the radio was top priority and
turned to Pete. “Clarify.”

“She needs a ride.” He gave his brother the
death glare. “You didn’t talk to him?”

“Nope. Travis is acting batshit.”

“Batshit,” he said, louder than he meant,
producing a smirk from Pete.

Phil slid him a sideways glance as if the
conversation bored him and returned his concentration on turning
the knobs on the radio. The crackling noise went from inaudible to
pieces of lyrics. “Yeah. It’s your go-to method whenever a woman is
mentioned.”

“Not true. Hell, I told the cook next time.”
He grimaced for shouting across the bar.

“No one says you weren’t a man-whore.”
Phil’s agreeing tone pissed him off.

“Man-whore! No, thank you!” The willowy
woman he lusted over yelled at Pete and jabbed her hands on her
hips, looking fiery and ready to do some damage. What a turn on.
“I’ll hitchhike to Montana before riding him.”

A wave of heat shot down his body and
stirred his groin at the image flashing in his mind. Her on top of
him, his hands on her hips as she ground into him. The lack of
voices snapped his attention to the patrons smiling. Her face
turned red and her mouth dropped open. She thrust her hands up,
palms forward. “You know what I meant!”

“Here you go, honey.” Phil surprised them
from behind the bar and dropped a filled beer mug on the counter in
front of her.

“Thank you,” she said, eyeing Travis and
upending the mug until she swallowed the last drop. “I’m not riding
with you anywhere.”

Her wet lips and a drop of beer sliding
along her chin to her throat made his mouth water. “I just say no
to PIA women with an attitude,” Travis growled and bit a good half
of his sandwich instead of licking the droplet off her skin.

“You’re narcissistic. There’s a pill for
that.”

She had no idea how far from the truth she
was.

“Thanks anyway, guys.” She swiped a hand
over her neck, oblivious to what that bead did to him, “but I’ve
got to go.” Rising on her toes, she braced her hands on the counter
next to him and leaned across the counter to kiss Phil’s cheek.

Because being a glutton for punishment
fueled him today, Travis lowered his gaze to her breasts straining
the top of her bra and glimpsed her flat belly. Man, he’d give his
right nut to lick his way down her smooth, silky skin.

She dropped to the balls of her feet, didn’t
give him the time of day, and pecked Pete’s cheek.

“No-o-o.” He grasped her arm. “You can’t
hitchhike. Come on, man,” he said to Travis, punching his shoulder.
“Give her a ride.”

The-riding-him-image took over his brain,
exactly why he couldn’t do his friends this favor. The woman
possessed more than the
regular
attributes. She possessed
spirit, a quality he admired. “No.”

“Told ya he acted batshit,” Phil said.

Time to go before they guilted him into
giving a lift to the woman who charged his engine more than anyone
had in a long time. “Yep. Catch you men later.” Travis finished his
water and back stepped off the barstool to escape right into Phil’s
rock-hard, linebacker chest. “What the hell? Are you guys aiming
for an ass-whooping?”

“Take her,” Phil pleaded, throwing up his
hands. Travis nailed him with a glower until he retreated and moved
behind the bar.

“Quick ride to Montana,” Pete said.
“Easy.”

Easy for him to say. “Why Montana?” he asked
the woman eyeing him as if he were the alien inside the radio.

“None of your business,” she snapped. Since
the beer scene, she’d kept quiet. Pete moved close and whispered
something in her ear that had the vexed woman softening her
expression. “Can you give me a ride?” Her voice dropped to syrupy
sweet. “I shouldn’t hitchhike.”

No. She shouldn’t. He’d be guilt-ridden if
she did. In close proximity … with her … for hours… No way. The
woman would suck him into a vortex of no return. Hell, she already
did. To say she’d go for a one-nighter, like a
regular
,
would be like saying the sky wasn’t blue. It wouldn’t happen, but
the guys’ protectiveness gave him an idea on how to get out of the
situation. “You up for being a regular?”

“Really, man?” Phil wiped off the bartop
from where he removed Travis’ plate. “That’s a low blow.”

Pete’s jaw dropped, his face turned red, and
his hands fisted. “Don’t go there.”

He evaluated the men, and since Pete seemed
the most offended, he asked, “She yours?” The out-of-character
comment should win him enough space to get the hell out of there
alone.