“I didn’t do it for you,” I snapped, remembering every time he’d smiled when I’d changed the color of my hair. Dealing with Landon flashbacks was the last thing I needed right now when I was still scraped raw from our fight yesterday. How the hell was he so unaffected, all smiles like we hadn’t drawn blood? I backed up a step so he wouldn’t touch me. Even just that small brush against my skin had been electric.
He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t even take a compliment from me?”
“I’m not taking anything from you,” I said, hating the way my body physically warmed at his smile.
“Yeah, okay. What we have here—”
“Is a typical A-frame with control bar and pod harness,” I finished.
“God, that’s sexy,” he said with a groan.
“We need to discuss your turn-on standards.”
“Any time, any place,” he answered, running his tongue across his lower lip with a slow lick.
Casanova, indeed.
“Just help me into my harness.” Crap, was my voice breathless? No. I refused to even acknowledge that possibility, or the effect he had on me.
Landon was all business as he buckled me in, double-checking each line and connection in a way that made me feel protected—cared for. Don’t be so stupid. He doesn’t care for you. He just wants to chase you now that you’re all shiny and unattainable again. His fingers lingered, caressing my bare skin where the harness met it, but not long enough for me to snap at him.
Just long enough to wake up every single one of my nerves, which were all pretty much Landon’s fangirls screaming that he was back. They fluttered like dancing butterflies in my stomach. No wonder he got laid so often. If he could set me on fire—given the way I felt about him—he must have had the other girls’ panties on the ground when he was done buckling them in.
Not that I should care who he was buckling next.
Fuck. I did.
“How do you feel?” he asked, low and serious as he scraped the stubble on his chiseled jaw.
Our eyes locked, his bordering more on the green side of hazel today, and I felt that same awakening ripple through me. Yup, the man was a panty collector.
Mine were not joining his trophy case.
“I’m good,” I answered honestly, knowing that now wasn’t the time to dish shit back at him. This was stunt time. “Wind looks great. I haven’t been hang gliding in about six months, but I spent some time with the practice rig Wilder set up yesterday, so I’m feeling really confident. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I always worry about you,” he said quietly. “You put the insane in extreme.”
I scoffed. “There’s no insane in extreme.”
“That’s because you haven’t been around to add it in lately. I’ve missed the way you keep me on my toes.”
My heart jumped, and I shut up the fangirling butterflies in my stomach with a quick reminder of what it had felt like when he’d walked out on me. I undid the clasp on my helmet, needing to check it myself—to have not depended on him—and the damn thing broke in my hand.
“Seriously?” I asked the butchered plastic like it would answer.
“Did that break? Let me look at it,” Landon demanded.
I handed it over. “It’s not sabotage, or anything like what you guys just went through. Just my bad luck.”
He looked over my helmet, all trace of kidding gone. “You’re not bad luck.”
“Nova!” one of the Renegade girls called out to my right. “Want to do my double-check?”
“Yeah, Zoe, I’ll be right there,” he called back. “I’ll have a new helmet brought over,” he told me. Then he tugged at my rig one more time, nodded to himself, and went to lock in the girl who’d paged him.
God help me, I watched his every movement, analyzing the quick, efficient motions he used on her. There were no lingering caresses, no long gazes…well, from him. She looked like she was ready to eat him.
She probably already has at one time or another.
Ugh. I didn’t need to speak the thought aloud to know that it sounded like I was jealous.
I looked up and down the line of Renegades ready to launch. We were definitely guy heavy. Hell, predominantly guy heavy, with Penna out. But as I counted the girls, I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them he’d slept with.
My guess? All.
Well, except Leah, of course. I highly doubted Landon would ever make the same mistake twice.
He strapped into the rig next to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, thankful the wind had calmed just enough to make my rig stop trying to take me backward.
“I figured I’d jump off this whole rock thing. You know, make the cameras happy.” He pointed to the camera crew who strategically walked up and down the lines, getting shots.
“Right next to me?”
“Yeah, well, like I said, I always worry about you.” He winked and finished strapping in.
My stomach tightened, and I cursed myself and my stupid, girly reactions to him. Inevitable, my ass. I was stronger than that.
“Holy shit. Rachel?”
I turned my head since my body was pretty much on lockdown and saw Little John coming toward us, a new helmet in hand. The guy was massive, at least six five, with a belly that far overshot his pants and a shaved-bald head. He was also the one Renegade I adored. My smile was instant and gloriously genuine. “John!”