Page 25 of Fly Boy
“Pippa.”
Wyatt rears back. “What?”
“I think you should call me Pippa. Don’t you?” I pat his arm, the gesture a little condescending, but if I’m being honest, Wyatt’s whole reaction is like rejection. What is wrong with me and my emotions today? “Y’know, since we’re sharing a lodge perfect for couples and all.”
I think if you were to pursue that, Mr. Sexy Pilot Man wouldn’t say no.Evan’s words from what feels like a lifetime ago ring in my head, and I want to roll my eyes at my stupid head for bringing them back up. He doesn’t even want to share a two-bed lodge with me. I highly doubt he’d pursue anything.
“Miss Cart—” he begins, and I stare at him pointedly, cutting him off. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply before correcting, “Phillipa.”Close enough.I grin, and his jaw ticks. “What wouldyour father think if he found out we were sharing a room?” His eyes dart around the lobby, like he’s expecting my dad to jump out at any second.
“There’s nothing for him to find out about. It’s not like we’re sharing a bed, Wyatt”
“Okay, what about your partner?”
My nose wrinkles in confusion. “Who? Evan? Why would he care?”
“I wouldn’t like it if my girlfriend shared a lodge with some random man.”
“It's a good thing you’re notrandom, then,” I joke. “And it's a good thing Evan and I are partners in a work sense only.”
He’s silent, his eyes like icicles as he stares at me. My pulse skyrockets as it suddenly dawns on me. Evan was right. Wyatt does think we aretogether-together. Meaning that Wyatt must have been jealousof him. I don’t know how to process that and the butterflies that maniacally swarm my stomach.
But there’s one thing I do know. “Please, Wyatt. I’m tired and hungry and desperately need some relaxation after what we’ve just gone through. If you’re really uncomfortable, you can lock and barricade yourself away to make you feel better.” I sidestep him and walk back to the desk. “We’ll take it.”
“Great. I’ll just need some identification and the card you’ll be paying with, and I can get you booked in.” Stacey types rapidly, entering my details into her system once I’ve handed her my license and black card. “We’ve also got some availability in the spa for massages, if that is something you’re interested in?”
A moan slips past my lips as I imagine strong hands kneading into my tight muscles.
“Yes, please,” I say, just as Wyatt snaps, “No.”
I whirl around, slack-jawed, as I blink disbelievingly at my pilot. “Why not?”
“Do I look like the type of person who’d enjoy that?” he deadpans.
“C’mon, Captain,” I say, the nickname a slip-up that I brush past but store away how his eyes flare for later. “We deserve it.” Covering my mouth with my hand, I loudly whisper to Stacey, “We’ve had a really stressful flight.” Picking up my credit card from the top of the desk, I wave it around for Wyatt to see and sing-song, “My treat.”
He rolls his eyes, and I grin triumphantly, turning back to Stacey. I swear I hear Wyatt say, “Brat,” as her fingers fly over the keyboard again, but I’m far too excited about the prospect of scented candles, hot oil, and a full-body rubdown of the Swedish variety to care about his comment.
“Great, that's everything booked for your massage at six-thirty this evening. The spa is here, in the main hotel, so if you follow signs for the gym and pool, you can’t go wrong. Dinner is served from five to ten, and I would advise you to make a reservation. Otherwise, a small kitchen in the lodge is available for you to use.”
I take the silver key with a wood-carved keyring from her, clutching it tightly. “Thank you so much for your help.”
She nods, smiling. “Enjoy your stay.”
I start to walk over to Wyatt, ready to collect my equipment bag from the floor, when he shoulders it along with his flight bag and heads toward the hotel's front door.
“Oh, you keep going. I need to ask for something,” I say, pausing in the foyer and waving Wyatt on before rushing back to Stacey.
When I’m done, happy that she knows what I’m after, I find Wyatt hanging around outside.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I tell him. The annoying butterflies flutter hard when he turns around and his eyes travel down my body. “Such a gentleman.”
“You have the key,” he states, staring at the metal object still in my hand.
Okay, so he wasn’t checking me out.
The gravel stones crunch under our feet as we follow the path to the lodge, the clouds slowly parting and letting the sun break through after the storm. My heart picks up, my excitement bubbling as a building that looks like a hunter's cabin comes into view. Wooden beams make up the exterior, and two rocking chairs are placed side by side on the front porch by the door, ready and waiting to sit and watch the world go by.
I run up the stairs, shove the key into the lock, and open the double doors wide. Gasping, I take in the interior. A large queen bed occupies the middle of the room, overlooking the landscape through the open front doors. There’s a small sofa positioned at the end of the bed, if lying and watching the sunset isn’t good enough. A fireplace sits to the left, the stone hearth filling the entire wall right up to the ceiling.
