Chapter 8 #3
There were too many things red roses could mean. And by too many things, she meant one bad thing.
That the man was falling in love with her.
Why else did men bring red roses?
She plucked the card out of the plastic lining and settled into her desk chair, refusing to contemplate if it was still warm from Lance’s recent occupation of it.
He’d brought her flowers.
To work.
And then left nearly as soon as she asked him to.
Was the man falling for her?
She pulled the note out of the white envelope.
His handwriting was strong and dark, in black ink.
Kaci,
Hope the flowers don’t give you the wrong idea. Figured it was the easiest way to get help getting into your office.
She let out an indignant squeak.
What kind of man all but said I don’t like you like these flowers say I like you in a note?
Whatever his offer, she was saying no.
I’ll make you a deal. Three hours of flight-prep training and one hour in the air, plus I’ll give you an entire day alone to do whatever you want with my catapult.
In exchange, you go on a date with me.
One date.
My choice.
Final offer.
You have until five o’clock Friday night to decide.
—Lance
Her belly defied gravity.
Flying for a date would’ve been an easy no. She could easily accuse him of getting the better end of the bargain on both of those, though she knew full well she’d be lying.
But the catapult.
Ooh, the man played dirty.
She lifted a rose and rubbed the petals over her lips. The floral scent invaded her senses, the silk tickling her skin.
She liked dirty.
She had healthy respect for dirty.
And she wanted to know just how dirty he could get.
Kaci was usually in bed before Tara got home from her evening shifts at Jimmy Beans, but tonight, she was too wound up for sleep.
She’d tucked Miss Higgs in on her bed, and now she was sitting cross-legged on her couch, making notes for her speech and trying not to listen for the sound of a C-130 overhead.
She could’ve gone back to campus. Her lab was nearly soundproof.
But Tara wouldn’t be there.
The door clicked open just after ten thirty. “Oh, hey,” Tara said. Her keys clinked on the kitchen counter, and a thump suggested she’d dumped her bag on the floor. “We had leftover brownies tonight. Want one?”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Kaci set her notes aside and patted the couch. “How was class?”
“Boring as usual, but hey, in another six months or so, I might be able to apply for real jobs again.” She plopped onto the couch. “I got some writing done though. Bubba’s having trouble accepting that he’s just met his soul mate. She’s way too hoity-toity for him. Super fun.”
“You got a hero named Bubba?”
“Romance novels are all trends and cycles. I need to be ready for when redneck comes back in style. Then I’m gonna make a million dollars and retire to Destin. If I can ever finish one of these and get it out, anyway.”
“Haven’t ever known a Bubba I’d date, but then, I’m done with men. Period. But I’ll still read your books when they come out, sugar.”
Tara passed over a brownie. “Ol’ Grandpappy?”
Kaci’s nose wrinkled. He’d emailed her a bullet-pointed list of all the reasons she should join his team. And all of his reasons meant that, as lead researcher, Ron would get credit for anything she did.
Still, she’d emailed her own dean about setting up a meeting to discuss expanding her own project to include consultation from the chemistry department.
“Oh, no. Kaci. Are you speechless?”
“Near about.”
Tara pulled her legs to her chest and released her hair tie. Her dark curls tumbled free. “You didn’t go launching more pumpkins without me, did you? Did you hit his house? Or were you facing the wrong way again?”
“No, I…I got another problem.”
“You found out one of those sexist bastards on the tenure committee is actually a cross-dresser, and you’re not sure if you should expose her or not?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “No.”
“A billionaire farmer with a tractor problem stopped in to see you today and offered to fund your research personally if you’ll come be his concubine?”
“You know you’re the best roommate I’ve ever had?”
“Considering Ol’ Grandpappy was your last roommate, that’s not really saying much.
” But Tara’s bright eyes twinkled, and she leaned over to shoulder-bump Kaci.
“But you’re the best roommate I’ve ever had too.
And considering Brandon was deployed well over half our marriage, that is saying something. So. Is this about Captain Kissy-Pants?”
Kaci took a bite of her brownie to stall.
“It is,” Tara said. “Kaci, he’s not a good idea.
“The man brought me roses and offered to let me at his catapult if I go on a date with him.”
“Isn’t that moving kinda fast?”
“He didn’t ask me to marry him. Besides, he doesn’t like me. He’s one of those masochistic types.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should go. Then tell me if he does anything weird. He looks like he could be into some freaky stuff.”
“Lance? He’s a stubborn billy goat, but other than wanting to take me out, he’s not freaky.”
“Ooh, he has a name.” Tara whipped a notebook out of her back pocket. “And such a great one at that. Lance. Short for Lancelot? Or short for look at this lance in my pants?”
“Seriously?”
“Hey, I’m not the one contemplating going on a date so I can touch his catapult.”
Or so she could see him again.
Because that was what she’d been thinking about.
All day.
Lance wanted to see her again. And despite the million reasons she shouldn’t have wanted to see him again, she wasn’t strong enough to resist. “We’re not picking out china patterns here,” she said. “We’re just…having some fun.”
Tara pinned her with a don’t bullshit me stare.
“Does the name Gertrude ring any bells? Kaci, the man could’ve gotten you in serious trouble at work.
And then he stole your car. And you’re going to freaking Germany.
I’d give my left nut to go to Germany. I’m all about having fun with a guy, but this guy? It’s not a good idea.”
Kaci bit into her brownie.
“You do want to go to Germany, don’t you?” Tara said.
Of course she did.
She didn’t want to get on a stinking airplane, but she’d do it to get to Germany.
“You’re not secretly banned from going to Germany because of any potato gun or catapult mishaps, are you?” Tara whispered.
“That’s only one county in Mississippi, and I never wanted to go back there again anyway.”
“So why bother with the captain? Plenty of other men you could have fun with.”
Kaci twisted the tassels on her chenille blanket. “So I can touch his catapult.”
“Is that a euphemism? Because…” Tara frowned at her hand, lifting her index finger to simulate the motion of a catapult.
Her mind went back to making out with Lance yesterday—his capable hands on her skin, his tongue gliding against hers, that ache in her core—and she straightened. “I mean his pumpkin-chucking catapult. Ain’t got no other use for him. He’s barely more than a boy.”
“He has a job, the government lets him fly multimillion-dollar airplanes, and he doesn’t live with his momma,” Tara said. “How much more grown-up can you get?”
“The young bucks are too reckless,” she said.
Tara lifted a dark brow.
“What?” Kaci said. “Somebody’s gotta be the responsible one.”
“So long as you know what you’re doing,” Tara said on a sigh.
She didn’t. Not by a long shot.
But if she were ever going to make it to big conferences overseas for herself, she had to start somewhere.
And that somewhere—or someone—had fallen in her lap.
If Lance could help her get comfortable enough that she didn’t have to go to her doctor for antianxiety medicine, then she was willing to give it a shot.