Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

Damn. He liked her more by the second. And she really was easy on the eyes with all those soft curves he sure wouldn't mind explor—

"Rokowsky," the behemoth rumbled.

Crap. She hadn't been joking about the big guy's radar when it came to his sister and men.

Bo jerked his gaze off the fine view of her striding past the kennels of yipping dogs.

"Jansen."

"My sister moves fast." He gestured toward Paige already charging around the clinic entrance toward the front porch. "I expect she'll have Kirstie down and settled in two minutes flat. So say your piece quick."

Bo lounged against the quarter panel of the truck, keeping his body language laid-back.

"Paige tells me you're in a tight financial spot with your cousin's bashed-up ankle keeping him out of the cockpit for a couple of weeks.">"Nah? Really? I never would have guessed."

"No need to be snarky." She slumped back into her seat amid a symphony of hello-barks from the dogs in the boarding kennels.

"Lady, I'm actually complimenting you, here, because I figure you had to be smart enough to know that—" he nodded toward the air-hack again "—isn't worth top dollar."

"And you are?" She couldn't resist jabbing defensively.

"You bet your fine ass I am."

Damn his arrogance and—

Fine ass ?

Hers?

Heat tingled along her skin, then cooled. He must have some agenda here for dishing outrageous compliments. She'd barely understood why he would want to spend an afternoon with her. But two weeks? That went beyond logical. Something was up, and she hated that she didn't know what. There had been enough secrets over the past years.

She studied him through narrowed eyes until he frowned.

"What?"

"I can't figure you out."

"Quit trying. It's been my experience that women spend a lot of time searching for something in a guy when the obvious answer was right there in front of her face."

Great. She was darn near blind.

"How about clueing me in to the obvious, then?" Not that she intended to take him up on his absurdly generous—and suspicious—offer. However, it would be reassuring to know why he'd made it.

He stared out over the runway as if gathering fuel for his argument. God, he really was too handsome—strong cheekbones and jaw set in a classic face that belonged on some Renaissance statue. And how ironic was it that her crummy vision even gave him a sort of halo effect?

"Well, Captain? What's your reason for this altruistic offer to help a couple of strangers in North Dakota?"

He shifted in the seat to face her, square jaw set. "I feel bad about what happened to you because of your husband. I'm here and I want to help you if I can, add in the fact that I really like to fly and now have a couple of weeks off. Let me tell you, time off's a rarity in the military these days, with everything that's been going on overseas."

His flexing hands over the steering wheel drew her attention from his face. The sinking sun cast a rosy hue along the scars until they appeared angry and fresh instead of faded with time. Those hands held a story, and somehow she sensed it would make him more human—more intriguing—than even those slightly crooked teeth.

"If you need to unwind, why not go to Mt. Rushmore? Or you could check out the.

Badlands and some of their casinos."

"Thanks, Madame Tour Guide. Been there. Done that. And lucky for you, I have a private pilot's license and would rather hang out with you. Must be your charm and gratitude." His eyes flicked with sarcasm.

Contrition itched. "Sorry. But you're being rather pushy here."