Chapter 7
“What were your duties as a PJ?” Trask attempted as an opener.
Right, Jett scoffed. Because he wouldn’t want to discuss the elephant in the diner, which was their instant and immediate attraction to each other.
Well screw him. Jett hadn’t missed a single bit of Trask’s arousal, no matter how adroitly he was trying to move on from those two, mind-blowing kisses.
“Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it, not talking about how awesome our lip-locks were.
I’ll work with that. For now.” Jett cleared her throat and affected a professional demeanor.
“As a PJ, I was part of numerous covert infils and exfils in war zones. I also did my share of search and rescue gigs, as well as recon operations which included being dropped in full scuba gear into high-risk situations.”
“Such as?” he asked.
“Well, one op I recall as being especially hairy that’s not considered classified, was when we were tasked with raising a drug boat that had been scuttled, all while being fired on by the cartel who didn’t want us to see what was on board.”
Trask hissed, and she couldn’t tell if it was admiration or concern over the danger she’d been in.
“I’m glad it worked out,” he finally managed.
“You and me both,” Jett grinned. That had been a hairy one.
“I should have figured you’d be a diving expert,” Trask continued, “growing up with a father who ran a scuba shop.”
Jett nodded. “Yup. He gave me my love of the ocean. I actually became certified as a Junior Open Water Diver as soon as I turned ten. Then I earned my full, Open Water Diver cred when I was fifteen. My diving skills were so well honed when I enlisted, that the Air Force took advantage of my expertise and started me out with their advanced dive team, and I never looked back.”
“Impressive,” Trask praised, and he did look a bit awed.
Jett would take that from the stoic man, and relish it.
“What about you?” she countered. “How long have you been diving?”
Trask snorted. “Since I was young, as well,” he revealed.
“My brothers and I started out snorkeling, and transitioned naturally from there. But while I was in the Marines, I lost my edge since diving wasn’t in my job description.
I only got in the water on those rare occasions when I came home on leave. ”
“How long did you say you’ve been back in Maine?” Jett asked astutely, figuring he must be working to remedy his rustiness.
Trask narrowed his eyes. “Just over three months, and yes, I’ve been diving almost every single day since then.”
The server interrupted, bringing their plates. “Can I get you two anything else?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Jett answered. “Two small burgers to go. Plain.”
“You’ve got it, hon.” The waitress jotted on her pad and walked away.
Trask sent her a questioning look.
“For the dogs,” she explained, then went back to their previous conversation where he’d mentioned crash-coursing himself back into diving again.
“I’d expect nothing less than you diving back in, head first,” Jett told him. “Pun intended,” she added.
To which he grunted.
Jett poured dark maple syrup over everything on her plate, then moaned with the first bite, when the sweet flavor hit her tastebuds. She purposely licked one drip off her bottom lip and…
Trask hissed, his eyes snapped to hers, and she grinned.
Yup. That had gotten to him.
Should she annoy him some more?
Strategically, maybe not. It might be better to ease off until he dropped his guard, then hit him with her innate irreverence again when he least expected it.
Yup. Decision made. For now, she’d go bland. “It sounds like you’re doing the right thing. You’ll have your teaching credentials in no time.”
Trask glanced at her suspiciously, but didn’t agree or disagree, instead also tucking into his food.
He was a man who clearly only spoke when he felt it necessary.
A long silence ensued, and it kind of freaked Jett out.
She was used to filling dead air-space with chatter, and the fact that they were both simply eating quietly, had her feeling off.
How could the man push all her libido-buttons, then let that go without so much as a blink? Was he even thinking about it?
“You’re good at being quiet,” she pointed out unnecessarily, because… Yeah. Actual minutes had gone by without a word, and it still felt all wrong to her.
“I am,” he agreed. “With seven brothers, I did a lot of listening when I was younger,” he explained, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“I never knew when one of them would say something I could use as ammunition against them, so I made it an art to pay attention when they weren’t expecting it. ”
Jett let out a laugh that almost had her spewing food. She covered her mouth with one hand and swallowed. “Oh my God,” she eventually chortled. “I bet that paid off in spades once you were in charge of your regiments in the Marines.”
“Who said I was in charge of anything?” he countered instantly, one brow raising haughtily.
Seriously? He didn’t think she knew a commanding officer when she saw one?
“Oh, please, Trask. You were in for thirty years, and you practically have the word ‘superior’ tattooed on your forehead.”
Trask looked momentarily annoyed, but then shrugged. “Well, I’m not in the service anymore, so I’m no longer anybody’s boss. As a matter of fact, I’m low man on the totem pole at Diver Downeast, so all your speculation is moot.”
“Until a job drops in your lap that needs someone to step up and take charge. Then, whether your cohorts like it or not, your true colors are going to shine through and you’ll be barking orders like a pro.”
Again, Trask didn’t look all that happy with her observances, but he didn’t call her out on them, either. He simply shoveled eggs into his mouth like a starving man.
He thought he could dodge more questions, huh?
Hah. He didn’t know her very well.
Now that Jett was so close to finding out just what rank the man had held, she wasn’t going to back down.
She tapped her cheek in thought. “Hmmm. Thirty years in,” she repeated.
“I’d say maybe a Brigadier General, but something tells me you wanted to remain more…
active. More hands on. So…a Major?” she guessed.
Trask let out a huge sigh, placed his fork carefully down, and pinned her with a stare. “You’re not going to give up, are you?” he asked.
“Nope,” Jett easily agreed. “I’m on the hunt, now.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “I left as a Colonel; a regimental commander. Does that satisfy your nosiness?”
Jett felt as if she’d won a prize. Trask had actually given her something to work with. “Not all of it,” she told him gleefully. “How many troops were under your command?”
“If I tell you, will you stop asking me questions?”
Jett shrugged. “Maybe,” she semi-relented.
His sigh was once again, long-suffering. “I was in charge of nearly three thousand Marines.”
Jett’s mouth almost fell open. She’d just known he was large and in charge. “Wow. You’re a bad-ass,” she marveled.
“Not anymore.” He threw his napkin down and pointed at her plate. “You about finished? We need to leave.”
Wow. He really was sensitive about something he wasn’t sharing.
The server clearly noticed Trask’s gesture as a sign of being through with the meal, and swiftly brought the bill over along with Jett’s to-go bag.
Trask sat, glowering.
Oooh. She’d really provoked him, now. But she wasn’t sorry. Somebody had to do it.
Maybe Trask was suffering from some kind of service-separation anxiety.
But didn’t he know that was to be expected after leaving a long, military career?
She’d had to talk to the base psychologist as part of the protocol before becoming a civilian.
She wanted to ask Trask if he’d had his head shrunk to ease him on his way, but she managed to bite her tongue.
More than likely, he’d forgone that bit of business, assuming he’d be just fine, and would be pissy about it.
Okay then. Back to small talk.
“One more bite,” Jett managed, stuffing the last bit of pancake into her mouth, then snagging the final sausage with her fingers and shoving it in as a chaser.
He grimaced.
“There,” she said, working her words around the big mouthful. “Ready.”
He grumbled and reached for the bill, but she beat him to it while swallowing.
“My treat,” she said, smacking her lips.
She wished like hell she could say “you can pick up the tab next time”, but she was pretty sure—even though their physical connection had been intense—there wouldn’t be a next time. What a shame. He was an intriguing man, even on their first date.
Yup. She was going there. Maddeningly erotic kisses and food put today squarely in date category, and it would be one for her memories.
Jett, realizing she couldn’t prolong things any longer, reached into her pocket and took out her wallet, peeling off bills that would take care of both food and tip.
Trask looked disgruntled. “I didn’t expect you to pick up the tab.”
“Because you always have to run the show,” Jett countered with a snap in her voice. “But not today. My advice to you? Enjoy being fed, smile, and say thank you.”
His jaw almost looked like it would snap off as he regarded her not-so-pleasant comeback. He clipped out his next words. “Thank you,” he managed.
“You’re very welcome.” Jett turned her attitude on a dime, and gave him her sunniest grin.
She didn’t get one in return.
Still, she was getting under his skin. She just knew it. Not that it would do her any good. He probably couldn’t wait until she was back in the air.
They both got up at the same time, almost bumping into each other in the small aisle, but Trask somehow managed to avoid her, much to Jett’s disappointment.
He didn’t even take her elbow this time to steer her in the right direction, clearly already distancing himself.
Jett shouldn’t be surprised or sad, but she was both.
Part of her had imagined…
Nope. Silly me.
There was no way Trask was going to prolong their association. She was never going to see or feel that exquisite body against hers again, and she’d just have to suck it up.
Jett couldn’t help it. She pouted.
“That’s not going to work,” Trask said, still being a gentleman and opening the passenger side door for her once they reached his truck.
“What’s not going to work?” she asked stiltedly, hiking herself up and in.
“That face. You’re sulking again. But I’m not falling for it. There’ll be no more of those…impromptu embraces, so you can just get that out of your mind.” He slammed the door and walked around to his side.
Crap.
“What makes you believe that’s what I was thinking about?” Jett replied haughtily once he got in, otherwise ignoring him as she turned to give Langly and Tinker their burgers.
Part of her felt perverse satisfaction as the pair drooled on Trask’s new upholstery.
“Oh, please. After your responses to those kisses?” he scoffed, putting the truck in gear and carefully pulling out of the lot.
“My responses?” she squeaked incredulously, then swept a hand pointedly toward his lap. “What about yours? Someone down south clearly didn’t get the memo to keep your arousal under wraps.”
She’d clearly hit a nerve as his cheek ticked.
“Bodily reactions don’t—”
Trask’s phone rang with the Top Gun anthem, cutting him off.
“That’s the office,” he told her. “I have to take it.”
He was obviously relieved to have their conversation interrupted.
Jett gave a sharp dip of her chin.
Lucky guy. She’d been just about to roast him.
“Trask here,” he answered. “Hi, Sheila.” He paused, then… “Yes. I’m still in Trenton. Slow down.”
Jett arched a brow when his tone suddenly changed.
He listened, concern sweeping over his face.
“Okay. I get that,” he said after another minute. “But what about Mason’s SWAT team?”
Whoever was on the other end of the line, continued.
Trask swore. “Damn, Sheila. I’ll have to drive all the way back to the office to get my gear, and by that time…”
Jett needed to know what was going on.
“What is it?” She laid a hand on Trask’s sleeve, gaining his attention. She couldn’t stand not hearing what had him all jazzed up.
“Hold on for a second, Sheila.” He turned immediately to Jett.
“A volunteer fire department just up the road called for an emergency diver. No one on their squad or on their small police department is trained, and they have a bull moose stuck in a cistern. It’s too deep for the animal to get out, and with the prolonged cold, the moose is losing strength.
Spence and Buck are tied up in Bangor, my other brother’s SWAT team is currently far north on a mountain rescue, and my diving equipment is way the hell back in Hampden. ”
Jett didn’t hesitate. “That all sucks. But my gear is in my plane, along with some ropes and pulleys. There are also various harnesses in the old stuff you just packed away. We can make things work.”
Trask threw her one, hesitant look, then closed his eyes, muttered what sounded like a curse, then went back to the phone.
“Okay Sheila. Call and tell them we’ll be there in no more than twenty minutes,” he barked. “Text me a contact person, and the address.”
He hung up with a groan, glancing quickly at her as he sped back toward the airport. “You’re sure about this?”
“Of course,” she answered jauntily. “Piece of cake.”
She’d responded with confidence, but…
Crap.
Moose were freaking enormous.