Sidelined

He picked up one of the charts. “I’m waiting for you to go change. Ten minutes.”

She sighed, but he knew he had victory when she stormed to a room at the end of the hall and closed the door. He flipped over one of the reports. There were statistics, lines, and a graph about Balboa Park. He might as well be reading Russian. He studied the next page. There was a charcoal sketch of a face. He looked around the apartment to see if there was any other artwork like it. He appreciated the smooth lines. Skye must have drawn it. There were a few more like it in the stack. He placed them back in the pile, curious about her drawing hobby.

He stood and scanned the apartment. Things always looked different with the lights on. Under her TV was a pile of books, their spines lined in a row. There was a picture as a bookend. He picked it up. Skye smiled from the frame with a group of girls. It looked like a college picture. He returned it to its position and walked to the window.

Her apartment overlooked the inner courtyard of the complex. Lights shone from the pool and there was a fire pit in the corner. It looked like every other apartment building in San Diego: hibiscus flowers, faux waterfall, and lined deck chairs in a row. He thought it fit her. Pretty, but well maintained and organized—not a wild weed in sight. He chuckled out loud, realizing he had just spent more time in the last five minutes analyzing Skye than he had the last five women he had slept with.

Four

Skye held up a pink shirt. No, too bright. She dug into her drawer for another one. She pressed a light blue tank top against her chest. This one might work. She brushed her teeth and dabbed on a pinch of blush. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Was she actually going through with this? True, now she knew the guy had a name, and he wasn’t a doctor or a pharmaceutical sales rep. It was far worse—he was in the military. She kicked herself for not putting the pieces together sooner. But what was there to assemble? It was supposed to be a one-night stand. A botched one, but nonetheless she wasn’t going to forget last night any time soon. Just the way he looked at her made her catch her breath. He was too good-looking. Men like that didn’t appear out of thin air.

She stepped into a pair of black wedges and grabbed a jacket from her closet. No matter how warm and sunny the days were, San Diego nights were always chilly. She ran her fingers through her hair again to shake out the bun she had clipped on top when she was working.

It was hard to ignore the fact that he had caught her home alone on a Saturday night with nothing to keep her company but spreadsheets. The spritz she used on her hair, might hold, but he said something about going to Pacific Beach, or PB as all the locals called it. Beach breezes would blow this to pieces. She gave up and headed for the door.

Although her hand was on the knob, she couldn’t quite muster the nerve to turn it. What if he was some kind of crazy stalker who picked up women at bars and was just waiting for his chance to chop her into tiny bits? She shook her head. That was a completely irrational thought. What if his only interest was getting her into bed? She chewed her lip again, gnawing off half her lipgloss. Of course, he was determined to get her in bed. She had given up all her cards last night by bringing him back to her apartment and getting naked in five seconds flat. There was still another option. She smiled as she pulled the door open. Ben Hardcastle was getting ready to have to prove if he was here for the right reasons. She was going to stick to the golden rule.

“What is this place?” Skye stepped from the truck and took in the building adjacent to the pier. It was wooden and looked like it hadn’t seen a coat of paint or stain in twenty years.

“A bar.” Ben walked to her side to help her step down, but she was already on the pavement.

It was almost entirely outdoor seating. There were people leaning against the railings, beers in hand, fruity drinks with tropical umbrellas scattered on the tables. Skye followed Ben up the stairs, wrapping her jacket a little tighter as the ocean breeze kicked up.

“Dude, where the hell have you be—oh, hello.” A tall, well-built man stopped in mid-rant to smile at Skye.

“Skye, Hollywood. Hollywood, Skye.” Ben introduced them.

“Bolt didn’t tell me he was bringing along a beautiful woman.” He took her hand.

Skye’s eyes darted to her date. “Bolt?” It crossed her mind maybe he hadn’t been honest about his real name.

He nodded. “Yep. It’s a call sign.”

“So you’re a pilot?” Her head tilted to the side.

Hollywood laughed. “Aw, man. You didn’t tell her? That’s funny.”

“Shut up.” Ben looked uncomfortable.

Skye scooted onto the open barstool. “Aren’t there always stories that go with call signs?” The guys nodded. “Well, then you have to tell me the back story on your names.” She looked at both men.

“I think you need a drink for this talk, sweetheart.” Hollywood waved down a waitress.

“There you are!” A tall, lean guy in jeans and a surfing T-shirt dropped into an open seat.

“Eagle, what’s up man? I didn’t know you were meeting us out.” Ben looked surprised to see him. Skye assumed the newcomer must be another pilot.

Hollywood handed out three beers, while Eagle ordered another for himself.

“And I didn’t know we were bringing dates.” He turned toward Skye. “Nice to meet you.”

She smiled. “Nice to meet you. Skye.” She extended her hand to his. “Now I get to hear another call sign story.”

“Oh, we’re doing that?” Eagle accepted the beer from the waitress with a grin.

Hollywood laughed. “Yep. We’re doing that. Why don’t you go first since you got here last?”

Eagle hung his head. “Ah, do I have to? It’s embarrassing. Mine isn’t the most glamorous story.” He took a swig of beer. “When I was in flight school some dudes in my class dared me to shave my head one night. We were pretty plastered. Anyway, the next day I woke up with a white bald head, and that with the combination of this nose,” He pointed to his face. “garnered the awesome call sign Eagle, because everyone said I looked like a bald eagle. Never shaved my head again after that one.”