6. Jason
6
JASON
I was bored as fuck. Rolling from my back to my front, I braced my hands against the shag rug and flew through another set of push-ups.
Not like I had anything better to do.
Melissa working night shift would have been great except that my sister was ignoring me. Plus, I liked hanging out with Mel. She wasn’t the same kid I’d known twenty years ago. She was better. Sure, it was nice not worrying about waking her if I stayed up late or got up in the middle of the night. But I kind of missed her being around.
I wasn’t used to being this alone.
In my previous life, I had been surrounded constantly. Even when I was alone in the cockpit of my F/A-18 at thirty-six thousand feet, there was someone in my ear.
So. Fucking. Bored.
Mel had been on her night-owl schedule for the last three days. I tried to make myself scarce during the day so she could sleep, which meant I spent the daylight hours moping around town.
I couldn’t submerge my stitches, so that eliminated most beach-related activities. I went on runs and shot the shit with whoever was hanging out at Jokers.
So, this was life after twenty years in the military. Retirement fucking sucked.
I had all these grand ideas of going rock climbing, traveling whenever and wherever I wanted, paddleboarding, kayaking, and camping... But now I was grounded for two weeks while I waited for these damn stitches to heal.
At least I got to see Mel in passing as she lumbered out of her bedroom around dinner time. The woman wasn’t a morning person. Evening person ? Her schedule threw me off.
Frankly, her post-sleep zombie walk to the kitchen was terrifying. Mel was kick-ass all day long. She was ambitious, driven, outgoing, and smart as hell. But if I caught her when she first woke up, it was like she was coming out of hibernation.
It was fucking cute, though.
She didn’t keep much in the way of food in her pantry. If I was home, I would punch the coffee maker before she got up and fill up her favorite travel mug that read, I will stab you. The red glitter syringe beside the words made it a little less terrifying.
My phone vibrated, and I grabbed it off the coffee table to see who it was.
A realtor I’d reached out to was following up about the listings she sent over. I skimmed over them for a minute while I ate lunch at the bar earlier today, but nothing caught my eye. She was pushing me to buy. To put down roots.
I wasn’t opposed to investing in a property if it was the right one, but the chance of finding the right one was slim to none.
Beaufort was simply a pit stop. I needed to spend some quality time with Bee. If the date wasn’t too far off, I’d stick around until she got married instead of coming back for the wedding.
Renting just made sense.
My phone pinged again, reminding me to respond to a job offer that came through the night before. Frankly, that offer was more appealing than the private plane gig in Miami.
A recruiter for a national lab testing company had sent me an email. They needed pilots for their fleet of jets. They operated out of smaller airports, and had had a shit ton of flights—all touch-and-go.
It was my kind of job.
I like airport hopping. Pair that with no people being on board the aircraft, and the job was a post-retirement dream come true. With my military service and flight record, the offer came without an expiration date.
I tossed my phone aside.
I was so fucking bored. I needed to find something useful to do with my time so I didn’t like feeling like I was wasting away or spinning my wheels.
I flopped back against the front of the couch and scrolled through my messages. Bridget was working and I’d already been at the bar once today.
Back in the day, Steve and Chase would have been the first guys I called. Sure, it had been a while since I hung out with them, but they were still a hell of a lot of fun. The problem was, they were both on duty.
What was the point of all this free time if I didn’t have anyone to hang out with? All the sitting around was making me jittery.
I contemplated going through another set of sit-ups or using the pull-up bar Mel had braced in a closet door frame.
I groaned and adjusted my dick .
Hiding the annoying erections that I seemed to get for no reason at all was becoming a problem.
I couldn’t honestly say I didn’t know the reason I kept getting them. This particular hard-on cropped up when I thought about Mel—all taut and tight—doing pull-ups in the doorframe.
Her body glistening with sweat. Rivulets running down the lines of her muscles. Eyes closed and lips parted as she breathed through the repetitions.
Ah, fuck. I made it worse.
Seeing Mel again wasn’t what I expected when I came back to Beaufort. Living with Mel was even less expected—temporary as it was.
I really needed to find my own place before her goodwill ran out. She pretended to be annoyed when I cooked, but at least I was paying my dues somehow.
Mel’s insane workout regimen was mostly fueled by the fact that she ate like a toddler. I racked my brain, but couldn’t remember if she’d been picky back in high school.
My phone buzzed with a text. Speak of the devil.
Melissa
Sorry if I’m waking you up. I forgot to tell you they’re repainting the lines in the parking lot in front of my building tomorrow. Everyone has to move their cars. Sorry, I know it’s a pain in the ass.
I sent a thumbs-up about the parking lot situation, then glanced at the clock.
It was a little past ten at night. I should have gone to bed. Tried to get some shut eye. But instead, I texted back.
Jason
How’s your night going, Goose?
Melissa
What did I tell you about calling me that? It’s fine. I’m about to get a break in a bit.
Jason
Is this breakfast, lunch, or dinner for you night owls?
Melissa
It’s Ramen Noodles o’clock .
That got the wheels turning. I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I smiled at the nurse behind the reception desk and stole a peek at her ID badge. Kaylee.
The emergency department was surprisingly empty.
Mel had been complaining about the onslaught of summertimer injuries. So, I was shocked that there were only a few occupants in the waiting room’s vinyl chairs.
A couple with a little kid who had a Rudolph nose sat closest to the doors. In the corner, an old man was slumped over. It looked like he was asleep. I hope he was just asleep…
Kaylee’s eyes tracked my tongue as it swiped across the crease of my mouth. In response, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, preening like a peacock.
“What brings you into the emergency department tonight?” she asked sweetly.
“Well, I was hoping to see a pretty girl and tell her how beautiful she is.”
Kaylee blushed—and not the subtle sun-kissed kind. It was a full-on cherry red blush . “And you came to the hospital to do that?” she asked.
I unabashedly looked her up and down. Grinning, I said, “You’re here, aren’t you? Where else am I going to find actual angels?”
She laughed, wrinkling her nose and swatting her hand between us. “Oh, you’re one of those .”
“One of what?”
She leaned forward in her rolling chair like she was about to spill a secret. “The kind who don’t know just how crazy nurses are. It’s not all sugar and spice and scrubs.”
I leaned forward. “You’re right. Sometimes it’s Dilaudid, banana bags, and Motrin.”
She snickered. “What can I do for you, Mr...”
“Jason,” I said, extending my hand over the round reception desk. “Jason McGrath. And I’m popping in to see if I can pester Melissa Jacobsen. She told me she was getting a break soon.”
Kaylee nodded knowingly. “Ah, so you’re Mel’s long-lost friend turned roommate.”
“So, you have heard of me,” I said in my best Jack Sparrow impression.
Kaylee laughed. “A story or two… Or ten. I’m sad I missed out on your little flirting spree when you came in a few days ago.” She pointed to a vinyl-covered chair. “I’ll call the nursing station back there and let her know you’re here.”
I rapped my knuckles on the desk. “I appreciate it, sweetheart.” Pushing away, I gave her a parting wink and said, “You have a good night, Kaylee.”
She wiggled her fingers at me in a dainty farewell as she picked up the phone out of the cradle and dialed Mel’s nursing station.
I stood off to the side and busied myself by reading a bulletin board about stroke symptoms. That seemed preferable to getting cozy in a chair that was probably crawling with staph infections.
A minute later, the double doors opened with an electronic whir, and Mel popped out.
“Hey,” she said, brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
I held out a brown paper bag that was dripping in grease. “I come bearing gifts.”
Mel’s lips quirked in a coy smile, trying to hide her amusement. She hummed something noncommittal before breaking out into an ear-to-ear grin. “Come on, flyboy. ”
I followed her through the double doors into the belly of the emergency department. The hygienic smell of rubbing alcohol and industrial cleaner hung heavy in the air. My sneakers squeaked against the slick tile as we followed a path of blue paw prints through the winding corridors.
“Am I gonna get in trouble for being back here?” I asked.
Mel crooked an eyebrow at me. “You think you’ll get in trouble at a place that puts paw prints on the floor so people don’t get lost?”
I shrugged. “Going to the hospital always feels like being sent to the principal’s office.”
She snorted. “And yet you’re here voluntarily.” Mel gave Dr. Price a wave as we passed by. I lifted my hand and nodded—the universal bro greeting.
“Couldn’t let you starve,” I said, elbowing her in the side. Although, with how short Mel was, it was more like her shoulder. “Can’t save lives on an empty stomach.”
Mel laughed as we rounded a corner. “This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy .”
“ What? ” I gasped in faux shock. “No code blacks or mass casualty incidents every single shift?” I lowered my voice and smirked. “No salacious coworker hookups in supply closets?”
“Thankfully not.” Mel swiped her badge to open a door and led me inside. “The most exciting thing tonight didn’t even stop in here. EMS got him stable on the way here. All we did was roll the patient straight back to the OR.” She plopped down at a table beside a row of lockers and opened the bag. “Oh my damn.” She groaned in delight as she unwrapped the first taco. “I freaking love you.” Her eyes rolled back in her head as she took a bite. “So much better than Ramen,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
I snickered and leaned back in the chair across from her. “No tomatoes. I didn’t know if you still hated them or not, so I played it safe and just got ’em without.”
She froze, the taco halfway to her mouth. “How the hell did you remember that?” she asked as she wiped away a spare shred of lettuce that was hanging out of her mouth.
I shrugged. “Back when we were neighbors and your parents would invite Bee and me over for dinner, you never ate tomatoes. I figured you were allergic or something. But one night your mom made tacos, and you went on a fifteen-minute rant about how gross cold tomatoes are.”
“Except in?—”
“Salsa,” I filled in. “It’s the only time you like cold tomatoes.”
She nibbled on the tortilla. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”
I looked around as we sat in silence for a bit. “It’s pretty qui?—”
“Don’t!” she squeaked. “Don’t you dare say the Q-word. The minute you do, all hell will break loose, and I’ll have to leave my break early.”
I snickered. “I’m just teasing you, Goose.”
“Speaking of teasing,” she said between bites. “You have got to stop flirting with every set of boobs you see. Kaylee’s probably out there picking out your kids’ names and planning your wedding.”
“Come on,” I said. “I’m harmless. You know that.”
“I know that,” she said as she swallowed a bite and used her hand to sweep the crumbs off the table. “But the girls I work with—and some guys—” she gestured toward my chest “—see all this and act like lunatics for the rest of the night.”
I leaned in and grinned. “What exactly do they see that makes them act like lunatics?”
She rolled her eyes and threw a balled-up taco wrapper at me. She had me pegged. I was teasing her, but only because Mel was the only woman on earth who didn’t give two shits about me or my charms.
That wasn’t exactly true. Mel cared a lot, actually. She literally gave me a place to stay after not having seen me for two decades.
I’d never had trouble picking up ladies. But Mel… Mel was impossible to crack. Always had been. Her tough exterior was more impenetrable than Fort Knox. I could flirt with her all damn day and get nowhere. It was both infuriating and still kind of fun. I was always up for a challenge.
The only reason I wasn’t hurt by it was because she thought I wasn’t serious.
“Don’t be like that.” She laughed before finishing off the last taco in the bag.
I handed her a napkin, glancing at the break room door as it opened with a squeak.
“Hey, Melissa!” a perky redhead said as she bounced in. Her eyes widened when she looked at me. “Mr. McGrath, what a surprise.”
Wait. I knew her. She checked on me when I was here getting stitched up.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I grinned. “Whitney, right?”
Whitney’s teeth sank down into her lower lip, and she gave me a shy nod, holding back a smile.
Mel rolled her eyes and balled up the greasy bag before tossing it in the trash can with a swoosh .
Did it bother her that I was flirting with Whitney? Was it because Whitney and Mel worked together or because I was the one doing the flirting? I liked the idea that Mel was a little jealous.
Jealousy was an emotion that ran hot. It teetered on the edge of anger. Push jealousy to the brink, and it will burn hotter than hate ever could.
Visions of Mel ripping into me, pointing her finger in my face, and yelling about flirting with her coworkers flooded my imagination.
I’d let her burn off a little of the rage before picking her up, wrapping her legs around my waist, then ramming her back into a wall. She’d try to get the upper hand, but I’d win.
Every time, I would win.
I’d pull her hair, tugging her chin up, and holding her head with an unrelenting grasp. Then, I’d zero in on her mouth and turn her world upside down.
Mel’s lips were made for kissing. Full and soft. A faint line dipped in the middle of her plump lower lip, making it look like a fucking cloud from heaven.
“Mind if I join?” Whitney asked, pointing to the empty chair at the table. She had a Tupperware container in her hand.
Mel pushed away from the table. “We were just finishing up. My break is almost over.”
I looked at the clock. That was a damn lie. “You trying to get rid of me, Goose?” I teased, leaning back and propping my sneaker on top of my knee. I made a show of looking relaxed just to get under her skin.
Whitney looked at Mel. “Goose?”
“Movie reference,” Mel fibbed. “ Top Gun. ”
Whitney laughed and sat down. “So, that must make you Maverick, huh?”
“Lieutenant Commander Jason McGrath at your service.” I gave her a grin and a playful salute. “Ma’am.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re serious? Like, you actually flew planes like in Top Gun ?”
I pulled out my phone and swiped through my photos until I came across a picture of me standing under my F/A-18. She was a beast, and I fucking loved flying her.
The photo was taken on an off day, so my flight suit was only half on. The arms of the military green uniform were tied low at my hips. The white tank I had on underneath was a size too small and stained with grease.
Yeah. That picture always went over well with the ladies. I looked sexy as hell in it.
“Greatest job in the world,” I said.
Whitney leaned in close. Her hair fell over my shoulder as she stared at the photo on my phone screen. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the words stenciled just below the cockpit.
“My name, rank, and my call sign.”
She giggled. “Your call sign was Casper?”
Mel’s eyes lit up with amusement, and she stifled a laugh.
Call signs were rarely as cool as the ones in Top Gun. They were always given by others, so you couldn’t give yourself something awesome.
And unfortunately, call signs usually came after a snafu.
Situation normal: all fucked up.
Luckily, my call sign wasn’t because I fucked up. At least I had that going for me. Still, Casper wasn’t exactly as epic as Iceman, Viper, or Maverick.
“How’d you get that, flyboy?” Mel snickered.
“Why else would I be called Casper?” I smirked. “I’m the friendly ghost.”
Mel snorted. “Good Lord, you’re not living that down anytime soon. Hate to say it, but Bee and I will have everyone calling you Casper for the rest of your life.”
I laughed. “Ask me why I’m the friendly ghost.”
Whitney’s eyes danced with intrigue. “Why?”
I wet my lower lip and captured her gaze. “I love being in the air, so I always had a smile on my face.” Leaning back in my chair, I added, “When it came to flying missions that required stealth and evasive maneuvers, I was the go-to aviator. My targets never saw me coming.”
Whitney laid her hand on my wrist. “That’s so cool,” she purred.
I returned her doe-eyed eyelash batting with a cocky smirk. She was eating from the palm of my hand, and Mel hated every second of it.
Score.
I set my phone down and draped my arm across the back of Whitney’s chair. “You’re pretty cool yourself. Nurses are badass.”
Mel slammed her hands on the table, rattling Whitney’s fork. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”