Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

"We'll have him patched up soon," she assured, careful to keep her distance from Chuck.

He'd asked her out last Valentine's Day, even included Kirstie in the invitation to make it seem less threatening, less like a date, even though the spark of interest in his eyes told them both it was. She'd said no, just as she'd done when he'd asked during their college days. She'd chosen Kurt over him because Chuck looked like a player.

What a joke in retrospect.

Objectively speaking, he was an attractive guy. Exactly the sort she should be with, given her love of animals and that Kirstie would have a wholesome environment. There just wasn't a spark.

Much less dry lightning.

Damn it, she'd gone for romance the first time and been so very wrong. She needed to be Practical Paige, even if that meant she was prickly, too.

She glanced at Bo threading ropes through the metal eyelets on the wings and tail, completing the tie-down. She kept backing—and just about walked slam into the side of the Suburban. Ah, for Pete's sake. She grabbed for the truck handle.

Her eyes met Chuck's as he slid behind the wheel. He looked from her to Bo and at her again, regret flicking through his hazel eyes before they blanked.

Was her attraction to Bo that obvious, even when she was at her prickly best? What a wake-up call. She refused to be the kind of woman who ran around with her tongue hanging out over some man.

Maybe she needed to get to know more about Bo beyond just the charmer flyboy facade.

Then this obnoxious obsession with smelling his leather jacket would go away.

Yanking the seat belt down and around her, Paige set her eyes forward on the overlarge red barn in the distance by the pastures and bunkhouses. She definitely needed to learn more about Bo Rokowsky, discover the man's inner pig—and please, God, let him have one.

She didn't have time for teenage fantasies or even single-woman romances. She had a daughter to raise, a life to rebuild and an ailing horse to patch.

Plopping onto the swing, Kirstie scuffed her red tennis shoe through the sand and wondered if she could get away with telling the school nurse she was sick. Again.

Then maybe she could go home. Uncle Seth would have to come get her since her mama was off with him. Bo. Yuck. But Uncle Seth could drive the car instead of the truck—and he would call Mom to come home 'cause he didn't do puke stuff too good.

Might work.

Except the school nurse was getting kinda smart about how much Kirstie showed up.

Most of the time now she just got a paper cup of water and a pass back to class.

A pack of shouting kids playing tag ran past. Kirstie tugged the chains and jerked the swing into motion. It wasn't fair. Her mom got to ride around in the plane all day while she was stuck at school.

She pumped her legs harder and harder, higher and higher until she could just about see over the roof of the school. She was the one who liked airplanes, not her mom. Her mom didn't even really enjoy flying. Maybe she would hurl on Bo's boots, too, and then he wouldn't want to be their pilot anymore.

Except she really didn't want her mama to feel sick. She just wanted Bo to go away and her daddy to come back.

A hand settled against her back and shoved her higher. Kirstie almost jolted off on her face into the dirt. Holding tighter to the chains, she looked back over her shoulder.

"Hello, Kirstie Adella." It was the man with the bushy eyebrows from the air show again.

"What are you doing here?" She stopped pumping her legs.

"Just helping out at school, which means I can say hi to you again." He had one of those visitor passes clipped on that people picked up at the office.

Her swish took her closer and she double-checked. Yep, it was shaped like an apple and it said Visitor. She got a little less scared and started swinging again. It must be okay for him to be around. The man with bushy brows and a visitor pass kept pushing her.

Like her daddy used to do. "What did you and my daddy do around here when you was kids?"

"Well, we went to school together, although we liked the monkey bars more than the swings. And we always went to the county fair and ate lots of candy apples."

"My daddy did like candy apples, lots. Caramel ones, too."

"We would ride the roller coaster over and over again."