Page 9 of From Air

“Is he single? Is Will? What’s the situation there? I hate cold weather, but if a guy’s hot enough, I think I could relocate.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked. I don’t want to sound interested.”

“Well, I’m interested. So, say you’re asking for a friend.”

“That’s code for ‘I’m asking for myself.’”

“Sometimes. But sometimes you’re actually asking for a friend.”

“I need to get showered. I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t leave me hanging, Jaymes!”

With a giggle, I shake my head. “I miss you already.”

“Aw ... I miss you too. But seriously, if those guys are single, I’ll be there by this weekend.”

“Muah! Night, hon.”

“Night.”

I’m sure this will get old, but tonight, I don’t mind throwing on my puffy white jacket and black boots to make my way to the house in the snow.

Maren’s at the kitchen island with her head bowed over her phone, and Will’s stretched out on the sofa watching football. I give Maren a quick smile before jogging up the stairs, feeling ecstatic because my wings have spread wide, and I’m on a new adventure.

“Oof!” I grunt, body slamming into shirtless Calvin and his woodsy scent of bodywash, aftershave, or maybe just rugged Montana masculinity.

He grips my arms and guides me to his side. “In a hurry?”

God took a little extra time sculpting Calvin Fitzgerald—high cheekbones, strong jaw, thick brown hair, and just enough natural body to land him a shampoo commercial if the smoke jumper thing doesn’t work out. It’s unfair to every other man. Don’t even get me started on his intense blue eyes.

There’s a burn scar above his right pec and another peeking out just above the waistband of his sweatpants. He’s fit, to put it mildly. Melissa will never be allowed to visit me.

“I officially feel violated,” Fitz says.

Peeling my gaze from his bare chest, I swallow and smile. My lips tremble, so I press them together. “I have a friend. An herbalist. She makes oils and salves that help scars fade. Good ingredients like, uh ...” I hug my clothes tighter as Fitz lifts an eyebrow. “Calendula, lavender, salvia ... I think some sort of nut oil.”

“A nut oil?”

My cheeks burn. “I think it’s a European filbert or hazelnut.” I stare at my feet, briefly closing my eyes.

Shut up, Jaymes!

“For my scars, not my nuts. Correct?”

Will and Maren were right—Calvin Fitzgerald is an asshole. He’s feasting on my embarrassment.

“I can ask my friend if there’s anything in the salve that might help you grow a pair, but no guarantees.” I lift my chin and smirk, enjoying this triumphant feeling.

“Sucks being homeschooled.”

“Why?” I ask.

He cinches the tie on his sweatpants. “Because you’re given a copious amount of information—Jeopardy!-level miscellaneous information. And while it might make you the most interesting person in the room, it’s not usually in a good way. What starts as an herbal salve recommendation becomes an awkward conversation about testicles.”

“I’m a nurse,Fitz. I can talk testicles all day. What do you want to know? Need me to see if yours have dropped yet?” I mentally air punch—the right words at the right time. I can tell Montana is a perfect fit for me.

Fitz confirms this by rubbing his fingers over his lips to hide his grin. “Welcome to Missoula, Jaymes Andrews.”

---