Chapter 9
Nine
Tobin smoldered, watching the slow crawl of arousal flush across Grier’s neck. She wondered what else she could color with carefully laid words. Or lips. She relished the verbal sparring, catching the doctor in tongue twisters that she longed to lean forward and taste as they left her mouth.
“I wasn’t lying. On either count.” Grier trudged on, challenge evident in her tone—and in the way she unconsciously tightened her grip on Tobin’s hand. Tobin was reminded of how well their fingers fit together, as though the spaces between had been carved for each other.
“That remains to be determined. Both counts.” Tobin met her gaze, a challenge within.
Their banter was straightforward, but there was still a hesitation between them. Tobin sensed the doctor holding back, and she allowed herself the luxury to imagine it was patience, a quiet way of letting Tobin come to her. Not a lure to a trap, but with steady knowing.
Another Taylor Swift song followed suit. Tobin subtly adjusted their bodies, giving just enough space—the closeness of the previous song no longer required, but neither wanting to create too much distance. “I love this song,” she whispered with controlled excitement.
“22? Are you implying this is one of those nights we won’t be sleeping?” Grier arched a beckoning eyebrow at Tobin.
Tobin coughed lightly. “Anything’s possible, but that is improbable. I prefer to actually know people before I spend my entire night with them.”
“You have principles. Noted. And appreciated,” Grier replied, boring her amber eyes into Tobin.
“But, you recognize Taylor, so that’s a point for you.
” Tobin lifted Grier’s hand overhead and leveraged her into a swirl.
Whatever Grier thought her hips did when she danced, she was inconceivably wrong.
Tobin watched her dress shimmer as Grier’s body swayed under her lead, the slit flashing seductive glimpses of the smooth curve where hip met thigh.
It was enough to make Tobin’s mouth salivate, instinctive and uncontrollable.
“Am I standing in the presence of a Swiftie?” Grier teased, holding them apart just enough for her thumb to graze the bare skin of Tobin’s exposed abdomen, just above the apex of her lapels.
Tobin’s stomach clenched at the contact, an involuntary response to the lightning arcing across her skin under Grier’s touch, inches from her breast.
Tobin couldn’t stop the enormous smile that spread across her lips. She cautiously released the doctor’s hand and tugged back the cuff of her sleeve to reveal a grade-school-style beaded friendship bracelet that spelled I ?? TS in black and white block letters.
“I’m a bracelet-wearing member of the official TS fan club,” she declared. “And you?”
“I live with an eleven-year-old girl. Even if I wasn’t a fan, I’d be a fan. Ms. Swift has a stage, and she uses her voice to fight for those who can’t speak as loudly. Much respect.”
Grier’s confidence was doing dangerous things to Tobin’s already-sensitive libido. Heat radiated off her body, and her mind was whirling.
“Award the woman another point,” Tobin conceded. Could this woman really be real?
“You live with Delta?” she inquired carefully. They continued to dance, their ruthless banter softening for the moment.
“Yes. It’s not a long story, but it is a sad one—and one I’d prefer to share under different circumstances.” Grier was firm, but kind in her delivery.
“Understood.” Tobin twirled Grier across her outspread arms, guiding her from one hand to the other.
Something shifted in the doctor. When she returned to Tobin’s center, her body had stiffened, and she squinted her eyes as she formulated the words to her next question.
Tobin’s heart caught in her throat. Did I take it too far with the living situation?
Grier had opened the door with the Taylor Swift comment, but maybe she had crossed some sort of unreadable line.
You’re fucking this up.
“Who has the other half of your friendship bracelet?” Grier’s voice wavered, giving away the insecurity she tried to hide behind bravado.
Tobin barely heard the words leave the doctor’s mouth—soft, tentative, and almost swallowed. Her amber eyes were pleading with Tobin, searching for something she couldn’t quite name. Tobin’s heart compressed uncomfortably inside her ribs. Who did she think had the other half of the bracelet?
“My sister, Harrow,” Tobin said quietly. “She made them one night after a difficult mission, trying to cheer me up. It helped—and now I keep it to remind me of the ones I get to come home to, and to inspire me to try even harder to bring others home.”
The weight seemed to dissipate from Grier’s body. Tobin could feel it—the subtle softening of her muscles, the unspoken exhale against her skin.
“Your job has to be difficult,” Grier murmured. “I’m glad you have someone who inspires you to stay safe.”
Grier’s sincerity was disarming. Tobin felt seen and heard in ways only Harrow and LoLo—and occasionally Eddie—had managed in the past. Her arms felt heavy and empty, and she fought the pull to draw the doctor closer—to fold her into the circle of loved ones she fought to return to.
“Is…” Grier hesitated.
Tobin struggled to remain unbothered, but her chest tightened again.
She wasn’t sure she could take any more situations where she could let this woman down tonight.
She knew—deep in the way her soul seemed to vibrate in this woman’s presence—that she never wanted to be the source of her disappointment.
She’d do everything in her power to keep Grier happy.
The reflection of joy in those amber eyes would be her undoing.
It terrified her.
“Is your sister the woman in the picture you have in your cockpit?”
Shame and hope flickered across the Grier’s face. Hope, the most dangerous emotion.
Relief surged through Tobin’s body. She pulled the doctor closer, comforting them both. “Yes.”
Her eyes dipped to meet the doctor’s, and she watched the darkness lift—relief and a new wave of desire glimmering in its absence. Hers were eyes that Tobin could get lost in. She feared she was already on her way.
“Since I think that was an indirect—and rather atypical— approach for you to a very important question,” Tobin said softly, “I’d like to invite you to ask me what you really want to know.”
She held Grier’s gaze, no longer trying to banter. She wanted to create a safe and honest space for them to communicate.
The words rushed from Grier’s mouth, “Does anyone of whom you are aware have understanding or reason to believe that you are in an existing relationship with them?”
Tobin felt her tense in her arms.
“You don’t mince words, do you?” Tobin smiled comfortingly. “No. Baggage I’ve got—but women abound, I do not.”
Grier’s shoulders relaxed—shoulders Tobin had been admiring all evening.
The lines of definition that delineated one muscle from another rippled with each movement.
It was hypnotic, watching the way her body worked, the graceful interplay of strength and ease.
Tobin’s imagination was once again racing with visions of how those muscles might move from different angles—namely when pinning Tobin beneath them.
Grier disrupted her daydreaming, “That’s a relief. I can handle baggage, as long as it’s unlocked. I’ve got my own, and I’d hate to be judged for my past when I’m willing to work on it in the present.”
“I see a therapist to help with that,” Tobin admitted. “I’m not ashamed of my baggage, but I’d like to unpack it over time.” She smiled, softening the moment. “How did we get so metaphorical?”
“I’m not sure,” Grier said, grasping the change in mood and rolling with it.
“But it’s cute. It fits—with the pilot persona and all.
” “Before we close that conversation for the evening, can the same be said for you? No fiancée or girlfriend around the corner?” Tobin asked, sending a silent prayer to a god she didn’t believe in to hear the answer she hoped for. That pesky hope, again.
“Firmly single, I’m afraid. For now.” A wry smile twitched at the corner of Grier’s lips—and Tobin wanted, with aching precision, to learn what that smile tasted like.
The doctor pivoted. “Can I ask you something else?”
Tobin guided them through the rhythm of another song, unwilling to release her. “You’ve never hesitated to speak your mind before.”
“What’s your name? Your first name.”
Tobin looked down into those amber eyes and nearly choked. She masked her reaction with a soft, airy laugh, her exhale brushing the tendrils of hair framing Grier’s face. Somehow, this petite firecracker of woman fit perfectly against her body—she wanted to put her in her pocket and carry her away.
“You’ve been shamelessly flirting with me for a week, and you don’t even know my name?” She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. “I’m wounded.”
“I introduced myself to you. You were introduced to me as Captain Maes. Knowing we both work in extremely male-dominated professions, titles matter to me—I respect that in other women professionals. I wasn’t about to strip you of your title.
If you wanted me to use your first name, I assumed you’d tell me.
” Grier’s tone shifted, teasing but edged with mock reproach.
“Maybe during one of the many opportunities you had to call or text me in the last week.”
Okay. That was wounding.
Tobin had hurt her. Nothing had happened between them, and already she’d managed to cause this woman pain. Her chest squeezed as the guilt flooded her body.
Trying to recover, Tobin fell back into their familiar rhythm. “Strip me of my title? That’s what you were worried about? You seemed pretty eager to strip me of some of my other possessions that day.”
Grier opened her mouth, then closed it again.