1. Chapter 1
Dane
A Year Before…
I shouldn’t be here.
That’s all I keep thinking as the room full of people seems to grow smaller and smaller, my line of sight tunneling into a hazy fog. My grip on the can of sparkling water tightens as Max rests his elbow on my shoulder and pats my chest a little too hard.
“Charles and I are pilots,” he says to the two girls standing in front of us, one a tall, thin blonde, the other a short and curvy redhead. “That means we jet-set all over the US and sleep in a new city every night. It’s quite the exciting life we lead.”
I wince, managing to extricate myself from his hold, and step back.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” My teeth grind together as I try for a good-natured smile.
Sure, our job probably seems glamorous to girls who say they like to travel.
But at this point in my life, being a commercial pilot just feels like…
a job. I suppose it used to hold all the allure that my work buddy, Max, touts, but after years of never being able to settle down because being a pilot takes me all over, it’s actually… lonely.
Thus the reason I even came with him to this stupid party.
I want to find a girl— the girl—who can put to bed all my horrible past experiences with women and give me something substantial.
Up until now, it’s been hit and miss after hit and miss.
I’ve almost lost all hope of finding someone to share my life with.
It’s a depressing thought. So depressing that I dressed up in designer jeans I’ve never worn and put on a stuffy sweater that’s too tight in my shoulders and ran enough product through my hair to keep it stiff for a week.
Because I want to put myself out there again.
Plus, maybe if Laura sees me with someone else, she’ll finally leave me be.
Permanently. And I’m man enough to realize I’ll never find anyone if I lock myself up in my apartment with no one but my brother, Parker, to keep me company.
I have to make the first move. So…I guess this is it?
The redhead giggles and runs a hand down my arm. “Wow, so you like, fly planes?”
Didn’t Max just tell them that? I resist the urge to frown. “Yep.”
“That’s so hot.” Her eyes widen as she sways toward me, and something a lot like panic clutches my chest. As badly as I want to meet someone, it’s been pretty clear these last ten minutes that neither the redhead nor her friend are the type of woman I’m looking to put myself out there for.
I’m not into shallow relationships or girls who only want to skim the surface with me.
But I’m also not rude, so I’ve got to find a polite way to bow out of this conversation.
“Uh, can I get either of you ladies some more to drink?” I peek inside her cup. Unfortunately for me, it’s full. Shoot .
“Oh, no. I’m fine. Jenna?” She bumps her blonde friend’s elbow.
“Nah, I’m good.”
I slowly back away anyway. “I’ll just be right back, then.” Without looking to see if Max is irritated by my swift exit, I head toward the buckets full of refreshments in the kitchen.
There’s quite the selection of drinks, with two liters peppered along the counter next to ice-filled buckets of pop.
But, of course, I go for my usual. Sparkling water.
There’s very little I risk when it comes to things I eat and drink.
If it looks too sugary or it’s not something I’m familiar with, I steer clear of it completely.
My family likes to give me a hard time about my pickiness, but it is what it is. I’m too old to change now.
Just as I’m digging my can of fizzy water out of an ice-filled bucket, the redhead’s tinkling laugh sounds closer, a signal she’s heading my way.
I stifle a groan and look for a way to disappear.
I spin in a frantic circle, then spot a door with a little kitchen curtain hanging on it that looks like it might lead outside.
Drink in hand, I slip through the door as fast as I can to avoid what I already know will be a pointless conversation and run straight into someone.
The aluminum can I’m holding rams into the person’s collarbone.
“Ouch,” she hisses.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Instinctively, I grasp her shoulder to steady her and take in the damage. There’s a bit of redness where the cold aluminum pressed into her golden skin, but otherwise, she seems in perfect shape.
A throat clears, and it’s then I realize I’m holding the woman and staring down at her chest.
Slowly, I drag my eyes up. Decadent eyes the color of the chocolate ganache Mom spreads over her famous amandine stare back at me, wide and searching.
“Uh…Sorry…I…” I sputter, stepping back and releasing her.
This girl is gorgeous . Like drop dead, knock you in the stomach and steal all your breath stunning. Even if I hadn’t just run into her, I’d still probably be stammering like an awestruck fool.
“Well, this is a first,” she says in a husky yet silky voice that immediately has the hair on my arms standing at attention.
“Hmm?” It’s all I can come up with to say in the presence of such an intimidatingly beautiful woman. I’ve been reduced to hums and broken sentences.
She cocks one dark eyebrow in a perfect arch. “I’ve never been assaulted by a can of pop before.”
“Oh. It’s, uh, sparkling water, actually.” I hold up the can between us as the most ridiculous, breathy, non-manly laugh wheezes out of me. She raises both eyebrows, completely unimpressed.
I pull my lips inward at the stupid statement. Who am I right now?
My conscience reminds me I’m a guy who hasn’t been on a date in way too long because of the last few girls who ruined it for me. For once, I’d like to get things right. Especially with a girl who is as stunning as her.
Clearing my throat before I try again, I say, “I’m really sorry about that. I was just…” I hook my thumb over my shoulder.
“Making a run for it?”
The start of a smile pulls at my lips. “How’d you know?”
She crosses her slender arms and tilts her head back slightly to meet my gaze. She’s tall. Taller than most girls I’ve dated. “Probably by the way you were too busy looking over your shoulder to know there was a person standing on the other side of the door,” she says.
A full smile breaks free at the sassiness in her tone, and I raise my hands in surrender. “You got me.”
Her lips barely tip up at the corners in response. “So, who were you hiding from? A…girl?” Again with that arched eyebrow. I’ve never felt so thoroughly assessed before. Like she could see straight into my soul if she looked hard enough. It’s unnerving, but also…intoxicating.
I’ve worked really hard at getting better at reading people, and if I can trust my instincts this time, I’d say this girl is giving off some serious dating-cynic vibes.
But something about her has me wanting to prove her wrong, to show her we’re not all like whoever it was who made her want to size men up so critically.
“Got me again.”
Her dark eyes lower as she unashamedly takes me in from head to toe. I resist the urge to squirm as her melted chocolate eyes drip down the length of me. “I can see why. You’re yummy.”
Again, that ridiculous laugh bursts out of me. “ Yummy ?”
She meets my eyes and juts out her chin like she’s getting ready to give me a history lesson. “Mmhm. Attractive with a nice build. Deep voice. Thick hair. Yummy. It wouldn’t surprise me if you had more than a few girls falling all over you in there.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”
“No? Why not?” She leans closer and lowers her voice, her honeyed scent coming with her. “Are you vapid? Boring? A terrible conversationalist?”
I fold my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling a little too scrutinized. “I can hold my own in a conversation. And I wouldn’t say I’m vapid or boring.” Though others may disagree.
“Yeah? Prove it.” She pops one of her curvy hips and purses her lips. “What do you like to do for fun?”
Ah, the dreaded small talk questions. The same ones I’ve fielded all evening. But for some reason, it feels more like a challenge with her than an attempt to draw me out. My competitive side urges me to give her an honest answer.
“I like to go to the gym. I run, I read. I enjoy watching and playing sports.”
She gives me a slow nod, her eyes wandering over my chest. “And do you have a job?”
“I do.”
“And it is…?” She raises both eyebrows and drops her chin, waiting. I can’t help but smile at her bluntness. She’s something else. Someone I’m dying to know better.
“I’m a commercial pilot.”
Her eyebrows jump just the slightest, but she schools her reaction. She obviously likes to play it cool, even if she is mildly impressed. “I see,” she says. “And do you…live alone? With a roommate?”
“With my brother.”
Another slow nod. Before she can grill me again, I sneak in a question of my own. “What about you? What do you like to do for fun?” Her eyes ignite, and I know I’ve made the right move.
“I’m obsessed with fashion,” she says. “So, I like to read fashion magazines. Sometimes I even sketch my own designs. I hang out with friends…my roomie, mostly. She’s more of a homebody, so we watch movies or reality TV and eat way too much ice cream.”
I honestly wasn’t expecting her to give me that many details. With the way she went on the offense from the get-go, I thought it might be harder to pull information out of her. Gotta admit, I feel like I won an award. My smile stretches wide to prove it.
She doesn’t let me bask in my accomplishment for long, though, and asks me another pointed question.
Before long, we’re both seated on the bench in the screened-in porch, freezing in the rapidly falling November temps.
We sit for who knows how long, talking and laughing and getting to know one another.
She tells me about her roommate, her job in retail, and I explain the highs and lows of being a pilot.
Quite a few people have passed by us and left the party, but we’re still here, clinging to conversation like two people who haven’t had a chance to speak in months. When she shivers, I have the urge to wrap my arm around her shoulders. But it feels like too much too soon.
“You’re cold,” I say, getting to my feet. “Why don’t we continue this conversation inside?” I don’t want our time together to end. I’ve loved getting to know this girl. Daria . When she told me her name, I rolled it around on my tongue, loving the way it felt. Rich. Luxurious. Alluring.
I give her my first name, Charles—not the one most of my close friends and family call me.
My whole life, I’ve always gone by my middle name, Dane, but what’s happening with Laura makes me want to give my legal first name instead.
At least until I know she’s “safe” and not a borderline stalker.
Maybe it’s overkill, but it makes me feel better.
“Actually, I should be going,” she says, standing. “It’s getting late, and I’ve got a brunch date with my roomie.” She looks down and rummages inside her crossbody purse, probably searching for her keys.
This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. The one where I can either thank her for a good conversation and walk away or take it a step further. But being burnt in the past has me second guessing everything.
But how will I feel if I let this woman walk out of my life without so much as an invitation for more? It only takes a split second for me to realize that I'd feel…hopeless. That startling truth prompts me to act.
“Can I give you my number?”
My blurted question seems to surprise both her and me. But I couldn’t let her walk away without letting her know I’m into her.
Thankfully, she smiles. Genuinely smiles. Once again, it feels like she’s gifted me a golden trophy.
“Sure.” She slips her phone out of her purse and hands it to me. I type in my number and hand it back, biting my lip to keep from asking for hers in exchange.
My parents always taught me to leave the ball in the girl’s court. If she wants to pursue a relationship, let her reach out. But that’s where everything went south last time. I gave Laura the upper hand, and not only did she use it against me, she also took things way too far.
And yet…I want to let this girl make the next move. All I can do is hope and pray she’s into me enough to call. Or text. But whatever it is she’s willing to give, I’ll gladly accept.
“Well, Charles. It’s been fun.” She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder, exposing her collarbone. “Make sure you watch how you wield your sparkling water from now on.”
I chuckle and stuff my hands in my pockets, wishing this moment didn’t have to end. “I’ll try. You might have to call and remind me, though. I can be forgetful sometimes.” So lame. So, so lame. But when she laughs too, I can’t bring myself to regret the low-key begging.
We don’t hug goodbye or touch each other. She just slides past me through the porch’s screened door, letting it slap shut with a finality that hits me straight in the chest.
I finally met a woman I can’t get enough of. Intriguing. Attractive. Enigmatic. And there’s nothing I can do but wait and hope that she feels the same about me.
While also praying I didn’t just give my number to another psycho.