When in fact, he’d spent the past ten summers chasing down fires and riding bulls in his spare time. Because it was fun.
If he weren’t married, with his second child on the way, Jess might accuse him of being an older version of Pete. Only Pete’s idea of fun included leaping off tall places—cliffs, mountaintops, planes—like he might be a superhero.
“That coffee for me?” Pete asked.
“Yep,” she said. “So, we’re going up the mountain.”
He nodded, took a sip. “Thanks.” He didn’t stick around for chitchat but headed out to the barn. She followed, dodging the grouping of worried parents still peppering Sierra with questions.
Inside the barn, Pete grabbed two packs—one filled with first aid supplies, the other with survival gear. Jess added a warm jacket and a hat. Despite the warm temperatures in the valley, the mountain could be topped with snow and ice.
“I’ll get the radios,” Jess said.
“I’ll grab some water bottles.” He left to dump the supplies in his truck while she checked out two radios, confirming their battery life.
Finally, she grabbed a radio harness and was walking out from the barn when she spotted Pete talking with . . . no, seriously?
“Hey, Tallie,” Jess said.
Tallie wore a sweatshirt, jeans, and a frown on her face, and now looked at Jess with the tiniest of glares. “Hi.”
Oops. Jess had clearly walked in on something. By the expression Pete wore, it was a conversation that he seemed itchy to leave.
Pete had one hand on his door handle; the other held his radio vest.
Jess raised an eyebrow and climbed into the truck.
She could barely hear the conversation. Pete’s voice was low, Tallie’s a little more animated.
Something about not returning her calls. And expecting more from him. And how she knew he didn’t make promises, but . . .
Jess looked away.
Tallie might have gotten the all-fun version of Pete, but this was the version Jess preferred. The hero who kept his promise to save the day.
Pete slid in next to her, putting his harness on the seat, and closed his door. Tallie stepped back, her arms folded.
“Everything okay?”
Pete glanced at Jess, an emotion in his eyes she didn’t recognize. “It’s fine. I, uh . . .” He blew out a breath.
“She’s nice,” Jess said, then wanted to kick herself.
He glanced at her, frowned, then put on his aviator glasses and put the truck into gear.
Gage and Ty pulled out in front of them. Kacey was on the pad doing a walk-around flight check on the chopper.
Jess stared out the window, the silence humming between her and Pete as they pulled out toward the highway.
“If you want to talk about it, we can,” she said.
“Talk about what?”
She glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, those blue eyes shaded by mirrors, balancing his coffee cup on his knee.
“You? Tallie? This thing between you that has you upset?”
“I’m not upset.”
“You seem upset—sort of grumpy.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m just . . .” He sighed. “There’s nothing between me and Tallie. She’s just . . . Aw, fine. Apparently she’s mad I didn’t call her yesterday.”
Jess took a sip of coffee. “Are you planning to go out with her again?”
“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” He stopped at a light. Looked at her. “No, okay? Or, probably not—I don’t know. Tallie is the last thing I’m thinking about right now.” The light turned green. “Why?”
Oh. “No reason. Just trying to be a friend.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need friends, Jess.”
She turned away, her mouth tight.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—okay, I find myself sometimes wishing I could rewind time. And Tallie is one of those times. She’s fun, yeah, but I think I hurt her a little, and I hate that part. I’m not the kind of guy who calls back the next day. I never have been. I like a girl, we go out, and that’s it. I don’t want more, okay? Like my brother always says, I’m just out for a good time.”
Maybe, but that wasn’t the Pete she knew. Jess held up her hand. “Okay. No judgment here—”
“Really? Because it sort of feels like judgment. Like you think I should have, what, kissed her good-bye? Told her I’d call when I got back?”
Actually, no, that was the last thing she wanted, but . . . “Maybe you could give a girl a longer tryout than twenty-four hours.”
“Eight. We didn’t spend the night together, Jess.”
The way he said it made her feel a little ashamed.
“Sorry.”