Tom Kazansky's feet may be back on solid ground, but his mind is anything but. It had been that way ever since waking up this morning. Contrary to the distraction he'd experienced the other day, this particular brand does not seem as easy to shake. Honestly, it's a damn miracle he hadn't done anything blatantly foolish in the air.
The only thing convincing him he hadn't is the fact that he knows Slider would've said something—several somethings—if anything had gone even slightly awry. Mitchell would've been all over it, too.
There would be absolutely no way he would've spent any longer than five seconds on the tarmac before someone said something, but they hadn't. Slider is giving him a curious look, but nothing more, and Mitchell is too preoccupied with a conversation with Goose to care.
It's a good thing, or so Tom tells himself, because he isn't entirely sure he could explain what's going on inside his head, anyway. He doesn't think he actually wants to.
Slider would just torture him over it, and Mitchell?
Mitchell was the exact kind of wild card that Tom would rather avoid. Particularly when the bulk of what he can't seem to get out of his head has to do with her.
Jo. Mitchell's friend. The two clearly have a bond. That much, Tom had seen the first night he approached her. Whatever keeps her hanging around someone like Maverick, he honestly can't understand. But it's clearly something he will have to acknowledge, if he actually has intentions to take things any further.
And an answer to whether or not he actually does have those intentions is something he does not seem to already possess. At least not yet.
It had been a game, at first. He's man enough to admit that. Between the allure of getting underneath Mitchell's skin, and the challenge of trying to hook a girl who had demonstrated a clear lack of interest in two men notorious for being able to pull anyone they set their eyes on, the temptation had been too good to pass up.
When Slider had returned from his own attempt to win her over, metaphorical tail dragging between his legs, Tom had known. He'd known he wouldn't be able to resist.
Jo had turned him down, too, like it was nothing, but yesterday afternoon, something had changed. Or at least it did for him. And something in the way she'd looked at him, before leaving with Mitchell, has him all but convinced that Jo felt it, too.
Whether the thought is arrogant or not, Tom is all but certain that if Maverick hadn't arrived when he did, he could have won her over. She'd seemed more relaxed. Almost—flirty? Maybe. Certainly freer with her smiles. Even laughter.
Josephine Carter had one hell of a beautiful smile, and Tom would be lying if he said he'd been capable of thinking of anything else for the entirety of the day so far.
Between that, and the feel of his arm brushing against hers as he left her in the company of Mitchell and Bradshaw, albeit reluctantly, a part of him is honestly surprised there hadn't been any accidents during training, all pretense of maintaining his cool and unflappable facade aside. If he closes his eyes, he is all but certain he could feel her, still. Smell the scent of her perfume. Something citrusy that pulled him in, whether he intended to allow it or not.
With the last of their banter permanently engrained in his mind, Tom wonders if Jo had ever noticed the slightest of fractures in his expression. A faltering of his usual confident smile, and the tick of a muscle against his jaw that came from surprise over how easy it seemed for her to keep up with him, with little to no effort at all. Both proof of exactly how easily she had wormed her way underneath his skin.
Even if Jo did notice, though, she never showed it, and the visceral memory of how it felt to hear her laughter—her head tilted back just a bit so she could still manage to look him in the eye—still has enough sway over him to send a bolt of heat rushing straight to his groin.
Whatever his initial intentions, things were different, now. The game is over, if it had ever really been a game at all. Honestly, he isn't sure. And for someone who always prided himself on knowing the right answers—never questioning his own judgment—that is enough to have him in a tailspin he never saw coming.
Jo had never once stopped looking at him. Even when Mitchell and Bradshaw had interrupted his attempt to keep her laughing. To keep her smiling, if it was the last thing he did in this life. Her head had angled back, hair spilling over her shoulder while her nose scrunched up in a way that he never once imagined would be appealing, but it was.
Everything about Jo was appealing. Her hair. Smile. Eyes. Face. Laugh. The way her cheeks had remained consistently flushed until he had been forced to depart.
He'd hoped to be able to keep her attention for just a little bit longer, but Maverick and Goose were obviously too much for her to ignore. A fact which Slider reminded him of numerous times this morning after grilling him on exactly what had gone down, his RIO's laughter over Jo's excuse for turning him down regarding the upcoming Saturday still capable of eliciting mild frustration, even now.
Admittedly, the idea of Slider's reaction isn't something Tom can say he did not see coming, and even if a part of him may wish he'd never said a word, he'd known the best course of action had been to say something.
Even if there was no other reason behind it than to give Kerner a plausible cause for any distractions in hopes of avoiding a direct call-out that would be witnessed by everyone else, Mitchell and Bradshaw included.
But what if the distraction has no purpose?
"Actually, I have a date."
A date. Which should signify a lack of interest on her part. It should suggest that he would be far wiser to quit, while he is ahead. To leave all thought of Jo behind, because regardless of his own intrigue, he isn't one to be made into a fool, or to push an advantage that does not truly exist.
The only thing stopping him from walking away entirely seems to be the lingering impact of her smile. Of their encounter in the hall, that will not let him go. Yet somehow, as he mulls over the mention of that date again and again, walking away seems like the only thing left for him to do.
He just wishes he could have seen it coming.
"Tell me you're not still thinking about her."
Brought up short by the sudden intrusion into his thoughts, Tom does what he can to prevent any hint of that reality from making itself known in his expression, instead choosing to favor Slider with a slightly raised brow. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to, knowing that the other man already has the answer in hand.
A reality Kerner proves in seconds, if the scoff and roll of the eyes are any sort of indication at all.
"You really are hopeless, Kazansky."
Again, Tom does not bother to offer his friend a reply, his attention shifting, at least for the moment, to the task of removing flight gear, and changing into street clothes at the end of another grueling day of training. In truth, he is exhausted, though whether that is mainly due to actual exertion, or disappointment in his own recent conclusions, he cannot tell.
But of course, Slider wouldn't be Slider, if he didn't decide he was going to push the limit of Tom's patience, despite the signs that might advise against it.
"Think you'll try again?"
"Try what again?"
"Asking for that date you're so hung up on," Ron clarifies, the subtle smirk that pulls at both corners of his mouth eliciting a snort from Tom whether he truly wants to allow for it or not.
"Pretty sure no means no, Sli."
"Yeah, but it was only a no—"
"Because she has this date."
"Exactly. What part of that means you can't still ask her, take her out, have some fun in the back of your car, and get her the hell outta your system?"
They shouldn't, but the words cut, somehow finding a way to twist beneath Tom's skin, and lodge far deeper than he might have thought possible. Not because of how they sound, or what they imply, but because of the woman being linked to them in the first place. He still doesn't know her. Not really, but apparently that is not enough to make the thought of using Jo like Kerner suggests any less repellant.
Even if he isn't a stranger to short-lived flings with other women, there is something beneath the surface, here, that seems intent upon placing Josephine Carter into another category, entirely.
And that is something Tom simply cannot explain.
"It's your funeral. That's what you said."
"What?"
Slider's confusion is readily apparent, though that only seems to last a moment, before comprehension slowly dawns in his expression. His own remark that night at the club, when they'd realized Jo's connection to Viper effectively used against him, Ron mercifully seems to require no further clarification.
Though apparently, it isn't enough to forestall the need for further commentary, given the short laugh his RIO manages before setting in on him yet again.
"So, you're done then?"
"What do you think?"
The words come out a bit harder than Tom truly anticipated, but Kerner hardly seems to take any offense, already capable of discovering his companion's reluctance to be fully forthcoming without ever having to be told directly. In truth, he doesn't want to admit that they only serve to dig at him. He does not want to admit conceding defeat, here, when it flies in the face of everything he has built himself up to be.
Ice cold. No mistakes. Laser focus, and a determination to be the best that knows no bounds, but this is different. It is a failure, plain and simple.
And even if he doesn't seem capable of putting that reality into words, the slam of his locker door surely must tell Slider everything that he needs to know.
…
"You sure she's really alright with this?"
"I told you, Goose. Jojo loves kids."
Seated on his bike, with the kickstand still down, Pete Mitchell suppresses a laugh at his friend's expense, perhaps most especially because he knows without a doubt that all of Goose's apparent worry is for nothing. He'd seen the way Jo's eyes lit up the second he'd mentioned babysitting. The second she learned Goose had a son.
Knowing her for as long as he has, Pete has had plenty of time to witness her stopping every time they were out, and a child happened to glance her way. He's had time to realize that her future would involve children of her own if she had any say in the matter at all.
By contrast, he only ever seems to have any luck with Bradley, while the rest of the world's population of kids remain an unreadable mystery. But that is just another thing to add to the list of why Jo is the perfect choice whether Goose can see it, or not.
"It's a Saturday night, Pete."
"And?"
"Gee, I dunno, maybe she'd really rather make other plans?"
"What, you mean with Kazansky?" Pete scoffs, shaking his head in both exasperation and amusement even in spite of Goose's apparent determination to question Jo's agreement altogether, "Trust me, she's better off with Bradley."
"There's nothing for me to say to change your mind on that, is there?"
"Well, if you don't believe me, you can always try asking her—"
"Right. Yeah, Mav, I think I'll—I think I'll pass on that."
"Smart man."
"You think she knows it's this easy for her to get a guy in a chokehold?" Goose inquires, laughing softly at the idea of how many times he's already teased Pete about how Jo has him wrapped around her finger, given that his own almost immediate friendship with her, and his rather sudden concession to accept her decision about watching his son, make it clear that he is somehow in the exact same boat.
Something Pete confirms without any sort of hesitation at all.
"Nah. If she did, I think we'd all be screwed."
"That's probably a fair point."
"So. Six?"
"Six. San Diego Airport."
"Don't be late," Pete teases, sensing Goose's roll of the eyes, even if his friend is already donning a pair of sunglasses to ward off the glaring rays of the sun, "I can't promise Jo won't kidnap Bradley if you're not there to stop it."
"After managing a toddler on her own for a while, I'm not so sure Carole won't let her."
Laughing, Pete maneuvers his bike so that he can exit the lot he'd parked in earlier that day, the soft rumble of the Bronco starting behind him provoking a lingering smile. Focused on pulling out of the lot, he does not notice the other two aviators standing near another vehicle. He does not spare them a passing glance at all, far more focused on leaving than anything else. If he had, Pete might have wondered why they were still hanging around. He might have at least started to suspect that some of his conversation with Goose had been overheard.
But instead, he continues on his way, pushing the speed limit almost without second thought, the only thing better than the idea of a night spent with people he considers to be his family being the prospect of pulling one over on Tom Kazansky in the process.
…
"So you're the famous Jojo."
"Famous?"
"Well yeah. Pete, here, talks about you all the time!"
"Oh really," Jo laughs, turning to glance at Pete where he sits beside her in the booth, with Bradley squashed between them, occupied with a coloring book and crayons, "Do I want to know what you've told her?"
"Only the good things."
"Uh-huh. Sure."
"Let's just say that if Goose hadn't said anything about the instructor, I would've thought Pete was in love with you."
"Thanks, Carole," Pete deadpans, dragging a hand across his features before lifting the other to take a sip of beer, and hoping with all he has that Jo, in particular, will not notice the slight burn of embarrassment that lingers on his face, "Really appreciate that—"
"Aw, I know you do, honey," Carole quips, reaching across the table to give Pete's arm a squeeze, while her megawatt grin turns on Jo, "I gotta say, I'm glad Goose has someone else on his side with this one, now."
"Well, I'm not one to complain about giving Pete a hard time."
"With as long as you've known him, I'd say he probably deserves it."
"Oh you have no idea."
"Starting to regret getting these two together yet, Mav?" Goose questions, elbowing his wife affectionately in the side, and smiling faintly as he watches Jo snag a crayon for his son before it can roll off of the table and onto the floor. Even with Bradley's hint of shyness around a stranger, Jo is good with him. Adaptable. Kind.
He does not miss the faint smile Bradley gives her as she hands the crayon back, her attention momentarily drifting away from the conversation at hand. Watching, as Jo leans just a bit closer to get a better look at the image being colored in, Nick also discovers that Bradley is either too preoccupied to notice, or he is comfortable enough with her proximity to refrain from shying away.
Something that has him fighting back a laugh at Pete's expense, as he turns his focus from his son, back to his friend in time to hear his reply.
"Nah. Got Kazansky to back down, didn't it?"
"I wouldn't be so sure—"
"Kazansky. Tommy Kazansky?" Carole interjects, aware of Pete's barely muted groan, and the snort of amusement her husband makes at almost exactly the same time.
"Don't let him hear you call him Tommy."
"Oh please, he doesn't scare me."
"You know him?" Jo asks, doing what she can to avoid giving too much notice to Pete's answering scoff as she lifts her gaze from the image of a cartoon plane Bradley is coloring to look Carole in the eye.
"From what I've already heard, he wants to know you."
"I don't know about that—"
"The guy's tried to snag you for a drink twice now, Squeaks," Nick states, his amusement at the entire conversation only growing as Jo turns to him with obviously narrowed eyes, "What?"
"You are not helping."
"Maybe I'm not tryin' to."
"You're killin' me here, Goose," Pete complains, turning to face Bradley, and ruffling the boy's hair as soon as he realizes his statement has earned him the attention of a pair of wide brown eyes, "He's killing me."
"Well what's so bad about Tom that you don't want him around Jo?"
Brought up short by Carole's question, even though he truly should have seen it coming, Pete opens his mouth to reply, only to find it snapping shut mere moments later. Even if Jo is once again focusing on Bradley, in hopes of concealing her own embarrassment over the direction of the conversation, he knows he cannot say what he truly wants to. Not now.
Aside from the arrogance, and an uncanny ability to work his way under Pete's skin, there really isn't any one, concrete reason to object to the idea of Tom Kazansky at all. Or rather, there is no particular reason, aside from the one Pete knows that Jo would not exactly want tossed out into the open.
In truth, a part of him is honestly tempted to step aside. To let Kazansky try to play the role of Casanova, only to fall flat on his face. But regardless of any prospect of amusement he might earn in such a situation, the one thing holding him back is any possibility of Jo winding up hurt as a result.
"Jojo doesn't like pilots."
"I didn't say I don't like them. I just don't know that I particularly want to date one," Jo corrects, managing a faint smile for Pete's benefit, before finding herself once again distracted, this time by the reality of Bradley holding out a purple crayon for her to take, a clear invitation that apparently she has been deemed worthy enough to color alongside him, "And she wasn't asking about me, Pete."
"She's right, you know. I wasn't."
"You two really don't waste any time, do you?"
"Waste any time in what?"
"Ganging up on a guy when he's down," Pete huffs, any sincerity behind the complaint fading as soon as he finds himself incapable of resisting the tug of a smile at the corners of his mouth, "And you, Goose. You're no help at all."
"Maybe I'm just smart enough not to get in this one's way."
"Aw c'mon, Carole wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Yeah, well, I'm not really inclined to give her a reason to start."
"Smart choice," Jo acknowledges, unable to hide her own amusement in response to the look of betrayal Pete gives her, perhaps in part because she knows it is nowhere near what he is actually thinking or feeling at all, "What?"
"You're terrible, you know that?"
"And yet, you adore me."
"Do I, though?"
Pete does not even attempt to dodge the retaliatory swat Jo aims at his arm, a laugh escaping even as he recognizes the knowing look Carole is sending his way as a result. It would be a lie to pretend it is an easy thing to ignore, but he is more than a little determined to try, regardless.
Or at least he is, until he catches a look at Goose's expression, something in the combination of that, and his tone giving Pete every reason to believe whatever his friend has realized or seen cannot be anything good.
"Oh boy."
"What?"
"Well, you know what they say about speaking of the devil—"
Confused, to say the least, Pete turns to follow the direction of Goose's gaze, his stomach sinking almost as soon as he realizes he recognizes the two newcomers weaving their way over to the booth. It doesn't make any sense for them to be here, given there are other places far more suited to two aviators trying to blow off steam after a long day in the air. And yet, it seems entirely too coincidental that they would just happen to turn up, particularly with Kazansky's seeming fixation on Jo kept in mind.
A glance at Goose is enough to show his friend is every bit as stunned as he is, but neither have a chance to say another word, the weight of Kazansky's smirk as he and his RIO draw closer causing an instinctive tightening of the muscles in Pete's jaw.
A tightening that soon grows to an ache as soon as he notices Jo glancing up at the new arrivals, while a flush spreads its way across her cheeks.
…
"What are you doing here, Kazansky?"
"Can't a guy drop in on some friends?"
"We're friends, now?"
"Oh, I wasn't talking about you," Tom retorts, offering what might amount to a satisfied grin to Mitchell, before turning to Carole and Goose instead, even if his gaze does catch Jo's along the way, "Never told me the wife and kid were coming in, Bradshaw."
"And yet you're still here."
"That a problem for you, Mav?"
"Just interested in finding out how it happened."
"Maybe someone should be more careful about what they talk about in parking lots."
Not exactly pleased that Slider gave away their apparent advantage so quickly, Tom would still be a liar to pretend that the look Mav gives him in response is anything to complain about at all. Whether or not he can fully explain it, the idea of getting under the other pilot's skin about all of this—Jo, in particular—is far too intriguing to pass up.
Even when the woman in question finally seems to find her voice, her expression carrying something not all that far from an open challenge before she speaks.
"I think they call that stalking."
"Hmm?"
"Overhearing where someone's going to be, and showing up there without an invitation?" Jo begins, the remark provoking a snort of amusement from Slider, though she hardly seems to notice at all, "Seems like textbook stalking to me."
"Really."
"I'd offer to show you, but I don't have a dictionary on me at the moment."
"Didn't think to bring one when you met your date?"
"Well I hardly need one when he doesn't require me to define routine words."
Tom can tell the words are in no way sincere. He can see it, behind the slight twitch of a smile at one corner of her mouth, and in the way her expression all but broadcasts he caught her in her own act, whether she is ready to admit to it or not. This is all bravado, now, something that amuses him more than anything else.
A fact that makes it all too easy to respond in kind, even if his own reply comes at his RIO's expense.
"Think you're confusing me with Slider on that one, Squeaks."
"I can hear you, asshole—"
"Okay, maybe we don't swear in front of my kid," Goose cuts in, lifting a brow for Slider's benefit, despite how he can tell in seconds the hulking aviator is not quite aware of why his slip might be undesirable for a parent in the first place, "Carole and I have enough trouble as it is with him spending so much time around Mav."
"Hey!"
"Why don't Jo and I take Bradley outside for a walk? Then you can all talk however you want."
"I could definitely say yes to that."
If Jo's response has anything to do with his own request to buy her a drink, Tom cannot tell, her features almost curiously neutral as she waits for Pete and Bradley to sidle out of the booth before doing so herself. The act brings her in close proximity again, just enough for him to smell the familiar citrusy scent of her perfume. And even if he is more than a little surprised to see she is not exactly rushing to look away, Tom does what he can to avoid allowing any of that to show at all.
He is still hardly sure of where she stands. He cannot determine if catching her in the lie of using Goose's son as a 'date' was a clear sign of disinterest, or a defensive mechanism because she thinks she has some reason to be apprehensive of what may happen if she actually agrees.
And that is an answer he does not seem likely to get, if the way she suddenly turns to follow after Carole, who already has Bradley perching on her hip, is any sort of indication at all.
"Hey Sli. Why don'tcha make yourself useful, and see about grabbin' us a few beers," Goose suggests, then, the request redirecting Tom's attention in time to realize that his RIO is already heading off to comply, and Bradshaw is now favoring him with a look that seems to imply he is already coming to some conclusions of his own, "Have a seat?"
Grinning faintly, Tom glances back to Mitchell, the other man having already resumed his place in the booth not long after Jo, Carole and Bradley left. For a moment, they remain in a sort of silent standoff, Mitchell clearly every bit as determined to find some way of keeping him away as Tom is to refuse the idea of backing down.
Prepared to say something that will either prompt Mitchell to retort, or persuade him to slide over, Tom soon finds that the effort is not needed, though, one brow arching in open curiosity as Pete once again begins to stand.
"Think I'll go make sure Slider doesn't drink all of that beer before it gets back to the booth."
"Probably a good idea," Goose agrees, watching as Pete moves to follow after Slider, before turning back to Ice once again, "You know, for a guy who's always on his game, you aren't bein' very subtle."
"Oh?"
"I mean, I'm pretty sure the only one who doesn't see what you're doing is Jo."
"Seems like she's aware enough, to me," Tom disagrees, almost immediately noting Bradshaw's slight shake of the head, and frowning in response, before he can think to stop it, "You don't agree."
"What she's doing, that you think is her flirting back? That's just—that's just Jo."
"Bull."
"Not bull," Goose persists, risking a glance over his shoulder to ensure Pete and Ron are still occupied at the bar, before elaborating any further, "Look, I haven't known her for long. But she's not striking me as the kind of girl to roll over the first time a guy tries to offer a run of the mill date."
"Meaning drinks."
"Drinks are a glaring one-way ticket to nothing but foolin' around, man. Jo knows that better than anyone."
"Maybe that's not what I want," Tom protests, aware of Goose's apparent skepticism, and releasing a sharp, almost frustrated exhalation through his nose in response, "What?"
"Want my advice?"
"Does Mitchell know you're giving it?"
"Is it really gonna stop you if he does?"
Bradshaw already knows the answer. Tom can pick up on that in next to no time at all. And even if he is still somewhat uncertain about the worth of pursuing something that may only end up turning into nothing at all, he is still clearly incapable of walking away.
Whether that will be a good thing or not is very obviously something that is still up in the air.
…
"So. Tom."
"What about him?"
"You like him?" Carole elaborates, allowing Bradley to swing their entwined hands back and forth between them, and smiling faintly as soon as she realizes that Jo is content to do the same on her son's other side, as though the act is distraction enough to allow her a momentary reprieve before any reply, "Seem to, well enough."
"He's certainly not easy to avoid."
"Well maybe that's a good thing!"
"Try telling that to Pete," Jo laughs, tilting her head back as a seagull flies overhead, and using the hand Bradley is not clinging to in order to shield her eyes from the sun, "I doubt he'd agree."
"Guess that means it's a good thing I'm not askin' him what he thinks. I'm askin' you."
Releasing a sigh, Jo knows she cannot exactly avoid providing the answer Carole seems to want so badly. In truth she is not entirely sure she wants to avoid it. Regardless of how a part of her is still absolutely dedicated to reminding herself that she has no business entertaining Tom Kazansky's pursuit at all, she would be a liar to pretend that there is another part that is finding it increasingly difficult to resist.
A reality she does her best to explain in her ensuing reply.
"I don't know what to think, honestly. But I—"
"But you think you might want to find out?"
"I think I need to decide, sooner rather than later. I'm not the girl who—who leads people on."
"Oh honey, I don't think any one of us here would ever accuse you of that," Carole assures, offering Jo a smile that has the other woman returning the gesture in next to no time at all, "And besides, it's not always a bad thing to make your man work for it every once in a while."
"He's not—Tom isn't my man."
"Maybe not now, but he could be. You just have to decide whether you're gonna say yes or no."
"If he even asks again," Jo insists, Carole's almost immediate laugh prompting her to regard her newfound friend with no short supply of curiosity, "He might not—"
"Well if you weren't payin' attention to the way that man was lookin' at you, I sure was. I don't think he's goin' anywhere."
"You don't think so?"
"Not unless you tell him to go."
Jo is not entirely sure why she is stunned to hear those words. She cannot explain why her chest seems to tighten at the thought of doing exactly what Carole says, and telling Tom to quit while he's ahead. There is absolutely no reason for her to want to pursue this. Absolutely none at all. But every time she even considers not allowing things to go further—every time she considers not even giving herself a chance to try—the regret that surfaces afterward is nearly always enough to root her to the spot. A reality that only proves she needs to make a choice, and do it soon.
All that really remains is deciding exactly what that choice is going to be.
…
Hello darling readers! And welcome to a brand new chapter! I have to admit, I'm not exactly certain how I feel about this one, because I was trying to set up the looming moment where Tom and Jo finally decide what they're going to do about this thing they've got going on between them, and I'm not sure how successfully I've done that, or if I've somehow dragged it out for too long. Either way, though, now that I have set this up, I can promise things will start moving forward from here! And I really cannot wait to show you what I have up my sleeve as things progress!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! And a special thank you to ChiTown4ever and Luvreading67 for leaving such kind feedback the last time around! I truly do appreciate the support, and I hope that everyone continues to enjoy the story as it goes on!
Until next time…
angstytalesrx