"There wasn't room in our bed for me and his ego." She paused, then mumbled, "Not to mention his girlfriends."
Tanner stayed silent so long Kathleen pulled her eyes from the road to glance over at him. He stared back, and she didn't have to see through his sunglasses to know his eyes weren't smiling.
His brows pulled together. "I'm sorry."
A sympathetic Tanner was even more tempting than an amusing Tanner. Kathleen focused on the road, a safer place to look, anyway. "I was, too, but not anymore. It's over, and I learned from it. Life's about learning from our mistakes, right?"
"Sounds like he was the problem. What mistake did you make?"
"Falling for a hotshot pilot."
Her peripheral vision caught the ripple and flex of muscles along Tanner's legs as his feet worked the floorboards again. When he didn't flash back with a smart remark, she found her own words bubbling free with unusual chattiness.
"I don't do relationships with pilots anymore. Call it my own mojo if you will. Besides, with my job it isn't wise to mix the personal and professional." She couldn't help but wonder who she was trying to convince.
His hand fisted on his knee, twitching. Like flying a plane?
Tanner was thinking too much, and that didn't bode well for her. She'd found he packed quite a brain behind those jet-jock glasses. Time to turn the conversation around before he had her sharing things she would undoubtedly regret. "What's your ritual? Or are you a lucky charm kind of guy? What do you cart around in those pockets?"
That stopped his pseudo flying. Tanner's hand unclenched. "A St. Joseph's medal."
A pulse throbbed faster in his temple. Apparently she'd hit an untouchable subject, and the last thing she wanted was to press for emotional confidences.
Silence stretched for five passing telephone poles before she looked over at him. Not a smile in sight. She wished she could see behind his glasses. Flyers wore those tinted lenses like shields over their souls. No one could peek inside without permission.
Sure, she knew the practical, medical reason most aviators wore sunglasses. Flying above the pollution put them past filters. Their eyes became sensitive from being over-radiated, thus the need to wear sunglasses even when on the ground.
It offered another in a long list of stresses put on aviator bodies. They shrugged it all off, shielding their aches and pains with sunglasses and a laugh.
Except he wasn't laughing now. What ache was he hiding? And did she truly want to know?
She'd tried to comfort him years ago, and it had left them both with a cargo hold full of baggage. Better to stick with safer topics. "Your turn."
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw, swiping away his frown. "What?"
"Why haven't you married one of those perfect women you date?"
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry. Childish remark." One that sounded too much like jealousy. So much for safer topics. Tanner had a way of wrangling things from her without even trying. "Suffice it to say, you date women just like my sisters, which pushes another button for me. But we're talking about you. Why aren't you married yet? Lovin' the bachelor life too much?"
His fingers drummed along the console between them. "I'm not against marriage. Just haven't figured out how to make the long-term thing work yet."
"Ahhh, commitment shy."
His drumming fingers picked up speed. "I'm not hiding from it. I'd like to get married someday, have a few kids. Someday, but no rush. It's important to get it right—" The drumming stopped. "No offense."
"None taken. I totally agree. No one wants to go through a divorce." No way would she subject herself to that hell again. "So you want a marriage like dear old Mom and Dad had."
"My mom wasn't married to my father."
"Oh." Kathleen shot him a quick glance. She'd wedged the old flight boot in her mouth with that one. "Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"No offense taken. I've never met my father. Apparently, parenthood at eighteen didn't appeal to him. He skipped out, leaving my teenage mom pregnant with twins."
God, what must he have overcome to make so much of himself after such a rocky start? She'd had a secure childhood, full of far more advantages than Tanner had been given as a kid. Her father and mother had both been a part of her life and loved her, even if they didn't understand her life choices. "I'm sorry."
"Don't get me wrong. This isn't some sob story about a bad childhood. My mom did a damn fine job taking care of Tara and me."