Page 110 of Viking

Wells leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, what changed?”

I hesitate, then shrug. “She deserved better. And I quit pretending I don’t—” I stop, jaw tightening before I force myself to say it. “I quit pretending I don’t love her.”

The words hang in the air for a second.

Wells claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “Well, shit, James. Look at you. All grown up and playing house. Next thing we know, you’ll be talking about white picket fences and golden retrievers.”

Dalton just nods like he already knew. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

“Oh yeah,” Wells adds, grinning wider now. “A complete goner.”

Dalton snaps an imaginary whip.

I roll my eyes. “You two done?”

“Not a chance,” Dalton says, a smug, shit-eating grin spreading across his face like he’s been sitting on a grenade of a story and just decided to pull the pin. I want to throw something at him but instead I take the lid off my water bottle and drain half its contents. “He tell you about the time he almost screwed her in the cockpit of his jet?”

I freeze mid-sip and glare at him over the rim. “Shut the fuck up, Everett.”

He just grins wider. “I’m not wrong.”

Unfortunately, he isn’t. The thought crossed my mind more than once—and not just in passing. The mental image of her straddling me in my seat, skin on fire, lips parted, long dark hair wild…it haunts me. The problem is, I don’t think I’d ever be able to fly again without picturing her there and that’s probably a safety hazard.

Wells barks out a laugh from across the table, his slight Southern drawl thicker when he’s amused. “Oh, hell, now this I’ve got to hear.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I say a little too fast. “I showed her the jet, let her see the cockpit. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” Dalton drawls, dragging out the sound like he’s calling bullshit in five different languages, which knowing Dalton, he probably speaks. “Just a friendly little cockpit tour, right?”

“Professional,” I add dryly. “Very above board.”

“Right.” Dalton smirks. “I’m sure she just wanted to admire the avionics.”

Wells leans in, a smile spreading like wildfire. “Bet your altimeter wasn’t the only thing climbing that day.”

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “You two are the worst.”

“Careful, boys,” Lila’s voice cuts through the space. “Wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression.”

I freeze. Then slowly turn.

The doors had been left open and she’s standing just inside the room. Her arms are crossed in front of the fitted professional dress she’s wearing. It hits mid-thigh and the combination of that and her high heels makes her legs look amazing. She has one brow arched and a smug little smirk playing on her lips.

Dalton nearly falls out of his chair. Wells lets out a bark of laughter so loud it echoes.

“Shit,” I mutter.

She takes a few steps toward us. “For the record—” her voice is dripping with dangerous amusement— “he didn’t even try. Couldn’t stop rambling about g-limits and radar cross sections.”

Dalton coughs out a laugh. “This is the best day ever.”

Wells whistles. “Talk nerdy to me, Viking.”

I bury my face in my hand. “I hate all of you.”

Lila’s beside me now, not touching, but close enough I feel the heat of her. She leans in, her voice low and teasing against my ear. “If you’re going to bring me into the cockpit, Logan…try not to stall out next time.”

Heat crawls up the back of my neck as I realize Dalton and Wells heard that.