Colt must’ve noticed the state I was in. “Good guess on my part?”
“A little too good,” I admitted.
“I’m a gift that keeps on giving.”
I shot him a frustrated look. “You didn’t guess my sexual orientation, little one.”
He flashed a quick grin at the nickname, only to frown in confusion. Finally, I got the fucker.
“You’re gay?” he asked in surprise.
“Yeah, imagine that,” I answered dryly. “We’re not that rare, you know.”
“Rare enough,” he said firmly. “It’s gotten easier, though. When I enlisted, I kept that shit to myself—only my family knew. It’s not until the past couple of years I’ve been more open.”
We hit the proverbial pause button when the lady arrived with our food.
We ordered new beers too.
I shivered at another cold breeze and eye-fucked my food. Jesus, this was going to be good.
“It’s a funny coincidence,” I said, picking up a rib. “We have a lot in common, all while…”
“We’re entirely different?” he chuckled.
I smiled and dipped my chin.
The food was incredible, and it stalled the conversation further, not that I minded. I’d earned this meal and then some. It was amazing.
We learned some minor tidbits about each other while we ate. He was thirty-six and happy his folks had moved to Virginia. His rank was Captain, though his buddies called him Top, which apparently was painted on the side of his headgear when he flew.
“Do I want to know the meaning?” I wondered.
His smirk made a reappearance. “I always end up on top.”
I snorted and wiped my mouth with my napkin.
“I’m a brand, baby.” Goddamn, he was too much. “It’s become a thing during training. Puns comin’ outta every orifice—‘get on Top,’ if they’re chasin’ me, ‘look at him topping from the bottom.’ Chuckles all ’round.” He paused. “Sometimes you gotta dive and fly low to confuse the bandit’s radar. That’s topping from the bottom. Well, among other things.”
I was familiar with among other things.
As overbearing as he was, I couldn’t help but want to get to know more about him. I wanted to see him fly. It had to be a heady experience.
If I were half as animated and passionate about my job, I’d be lucky.
“Another thing we have in common,” I said. “I top from the bottom outside of kink too.” Or within kink, if I dated a submissive boy who enjoyed topping as well. I was still exploring, to be honest. I’d only discovered BDSM three years ago.
Colt raised his brows. “Oh, really. That’s…innerestin’.”
Was it?
Fuck.
Was it? This was just dinner. It wasn’t going to turn into a one-night stand. I’d left those behind. I was fairly certain.
Christ, why did I go there? This one was on me, to boot. I’d brought it up.
To hell with it. I had no issues being blunt. “We’re not sleeping together,” I told him.
He smiled. “’Course not.”
It was best to circle back to his job. It was a safe topic. “So, Langley must be a playground for you.”
He scratched his eyebrow, seemingly stuck on a thought, then returned his attention to his food and shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’m not stationed there. Yet.”
Oh. “Yet?”
“I’m at Shaw in South Carolina,” he confirmed. “But when you’re as good as I am, you’ll get advice from superiors that ain’t really advice.” He tore off the wing from his chicken. “They want me in flight training with a new plane after my deployment, hence the meeting at Langley the day after tomorrow.”
There was a fair bit of information to process, and deployment stuck out distinctly. “You’re getting deployed?”
“Yes, sir.” He inclined his head. “We ship out to Iraq in a few days.”
Shit. I didn’t know why that put an uneasy feeling in my stomach. It went beyond the general worry one felt when watching segments about our troops on the news.
“Have, uh, have you been overseas before?”
“A few times, sure.” It appeared to be obvious to him. “Bosnia was my first—just a short stint. Two tours in Afghanistan. This will be my second in Iraq.”
“Good lord, Colt.” I stared at him, unable to express what I felt. I barely even knew. It was something overwhelming, though. Having spent my life far away from the armed forces, I wasn’t close to any service members. Soldiers existed solely in movies and on the news. And now, here I was, having dinner with a war hero. Someone who put his life at risk for this country and schmucks like me.
Unlike before, there was no trace of cockiness in Colt now. If anything, he was showing signs of discomfort. It’d gotten too serious for him. And the realization hit so squarely. He loved being in the spotlight, didn’t he? But only if he stepped into it. If someone else directed the attention his way, or if we strayed too far away from easygoing subjects, his arrogance vanished into thin air.