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  Tequila

  Copyright© 2019 Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying, or recording, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Designer & Illustrator: Cori Armstrong, MSH Marketing & Des*gn

  Editor: Ellie McLove, www.mybrotherseditor.net

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  The Country Love Collection

  Author’s Note

  Other Works by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  About the Author

  To all the women breaking down barriers, shattering glass ceilings, and soaring.

  You’re the real heroes.

  Higher. Farther. Faster.

  Let’s do this.

  Higher. Farther. Faster.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, Shay,” Zoe grunted behind me.

  Hearing branches crack as her feet stumbled, I turned with a guilty grin to make sure she was okay.

  “We’re almost there,” I assured her as we approached where the trail dumped us in front of Emerald Lake.

  Nestled in Rocky Mountain National Park, the Emerald Lake Trail was one of my favorites to hike year-round on my days off at the Academy. But in spring, the rich, evergreen trees were framed by snow-capped mountains, and accented with vibrant water-colored sunsets. Here, I could shed some of the regimented and relentless drive to be the best, and instead, just be.

  “We should be out celebrating,” she huffed.

  “We will,” I told her. “But this was my condition.”

  We’d just graduated. Two out of the two-hundred-and-thirteen women in our class of just over a thousand.

  Zoe wanted to celebrate. Rightfully so. I’d never been much of a partier—not that the Air Force Academy left too much time for that kind of thing anyway. Being in Colorado, I preferred to spend my free time out in the mountains.

  When I was at the Academy, I was one-hundred-and-ten percent Cadet Covington. I ate, slept, and breathed the Air Force. I let myself become consumed by my goal to fly fighter jets and justified it with righteous purpose. So, in the rare cases when I was off campus and away from that world, I wanted to shed it all. Completely.

  I needed to be simply Shay Covington.

  I needed to remember to water the roots of who I was before I saw nothing except where my wings could take me.

  I knew my dreams were lofty. I knew what I’d have to sacrifice to get there. But the sky was in my blood, and I’d try to reach it in any way possible.

  After graduation yesterday, we only had a short few days before we were sent off—different stations, different commands… different countries.

  I wanted to hike to Emerald Lake one last time before we left Colorado; I wanted to ground myself one last time.

  So, we compromised.

  One hike. And then we’d spend the rest of the night at the bar, toasting to our survival.

  Zoe continued to grumble behind me, not because the hike was strenuous for either of us, but because nature wasn’t exactly her thing.

  “Wait for it…” I drawled as my pace picked up, and we entered the clearing of the lake, the sun casting a red-orange glow over the stilled emerald waters.

  My best friend halted next to me, her shoulder lining up with mine.

  “Alright… maybe it was worth it,” she conceded softly.

  “Don’t make me smack you,” I warned with a laugh, walking toward the edge of the water.

  The sight of the lake was breathtaking—and that was why it was one of the most popular trails in Rocky Mountain National Park.

  “You think we’re going to do big things, Shay?” she asked almost in a daze.

  My lips thinned. We’d already chosen a life in a male-dominated field. A purposeful, lonely life.

  Dating within the classes was discouraged, and in some years, forbidden. But the truth was not too many male pilots wanted to date a female counterpart who might outrank them one day.

  And as far as dating a civilian… Well… let’s just say it was sad how many men found being in a relationship with an Air Force Pilot unacceptable.

  Whether it was because of the danger… or the moving… or the prestige that made them feel less masculine…

  How the hell do you top Top Gun?

  Whatever it was, it sent Zoe and me to Denver or up to Boulder on free weekends where it was easier to not be recognized as cadets.

  “What choice do we have?” I replied, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, and adding, “Higher. Farther. Faster.”

  It was my motto.

  When I was eight, my parents took me to an airshow where I saw a NASA T-38 supersonic jet. In truth, the memory of its flight had faded from my mind, but the end of it was still perfectly clear. I remembered the sleek plane landing on the strip; I watched eagerly to see all the pilots we’d be able to meet once the show was done. Only, it wasn’t just a pilot that exited the plane.

  It was a woman.

  I’d always loved planes and flying, but in that moment, I knew I wanted to fly fighter jets.

  In that moment, I knew I could.

  “Alright, BaE.” I could practically hear Zoe’s eye roll in her voice; she’d heard me say that one too many times over the last four years.

  “Don’t call me that tonight, ZoO,” I teased back.

  I wanted to be a fighter pilot. Always had. But most women—even in the Air Force—don’t. So, I ended up being the only girl in a lot of my military classes especially in the last two years. Because of that, I ended up with the call sign ‘Bae.’

  Truthfully, I’d ended up with that call sign because I didn’t look like the typical Air Force cadet.

  Let’s just say there were jokes when you applied to the Academy as a guy.

  A college that was eighty percent male and twenty percent female.

  Of that twenty percent, fifteen percent are stronger than you.

  Or, my favorite, eighty percent of the girls living in Colorado are beautiful; the other twenty percent go to the Academy.

  I had a lot of feelings when I heard comments like that, especially when it was followed by how I was some magical undercover beauty-pageant unicorn hiding in a fighter suit.

  I knew what I looked like.

  Long blonde hair. American honey eyes. Wide, bright smile.

  I knew my uniform fit well in all the right places—tight over all the curves I couldn’t hide even if I tried. I knew the molds I broke when I decided to go into the military rather than modeling.

  I was the girl who looked like Miss America but wanted to become Captain America instead.

  So, when the guys in my class first taunted me with ‘Bae,’ I had a choice: I could spend four years fighting the sexist undertones it came with, or I could turn it into something more—something that would poke them in the eye every time they had to call me that. />
  Higher. Farther. Faster.

  So, I gave them my best checkmate stare and replied, ‘Of course, I’m BaE. You better fucking believe I’m going to rank Before Anyone Else… Better than Anyone Else.’

  And then turned and walked away. Like. A. Boss.

  Thankfully, my determination and skill meant I was successful in the following few years proving it to them. Over and over and over again. First in class. First in drills. First on my exams. I wasn’t the first female fighter pilot, but I sure as hell was determined to be the best.

  Better than Anyone Else.

  BaE.

  Meanwhile, I gave Zoe, ‘ZoO,’ with the explanation that she was a party animal. Not really. But she was the only reason I had even a shadow of a social life.

  “Okay, okay,” Zoe sighed and walked to the edge of the frigid lake water. “It’s beautiful. I concede. Can we go get drinks now?”

  I laughed and opened my mouth to respond when a rough-hewn voice echoed behind me.

  “You ladies alright?”

  We both spun and my jaw dropped.

  I’d seen my fair share of good-looking men in uniform. On a daily basis, pretty much. But the one who stared back at us with raw concern in his hazel eyes looked like a mountain personified into a man. His jaw was cut at sharp angles like mountain peaks; the subtle dimple in his chin like a mountain pass made only for a tongue to trail safely up to the slopes of his lips.

  Holy hell did I want to trace its path.

  Forcing a swallow followed by a shallow breath, my eyes drifted down to the broad expanse of his chest that was as hard as stone underneath his ranger uniform. It tapered to a narrow waist and strong legs molded underneath his dark green pants. And probably a pretty nice ass. I bit back a groan. These were the kind of thoughts that naturally occurred after four years of usually being the only female in my class.

  He was a mountain of a man. Imposing. Immovable. A force to be reckoned with.

  And like most mountains I came into contact with, I had the urge to climb him.

  I wanted him to take me higher.

  “We’re fine, thank you,” I replied steadily, hoping the setting sun masked the blush that rose to my cheeks.

  His jaw tightened and his eyes flicked over me. I was used to being ogled for the aforementioned reasons and it never affected me, but this… this wasn’t ogling. And affected wasn’t in the realm of what happened to my body.

  His eyes felt like a lit match on a dry day in the forest: high risk of uncontrollable fire.

  And I found myself standing just a little taller. I wanted him to look.

  For four years, I didn’t want this kind of attention, though it was inevitable. For four years, I only wanted to be seen as Cadet Covington. Top of her class. Excellent pilot. Exemplary wingman. The last thing I wanted to be seen as was bombshell blonde Shay.

  Until right now.

  Though my jean shorts and Warhawks t-shirt weren’t doing much to help the attraction department, it didn’t seem like they were hindering it much the way he had to force his gaze to stop lingering where my shorts and tee pulled tight over my hips and breasts.

  “It’s going to get dark soon,” he continued, clearing his throat and dousing the attraction I’d seen a moment ago underneath a wave of professionalism. “If you’d like, I can lead you back to the trailhead.”

  The tone hinted it was less of a suggestion than he made it seem.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Zoe chimed in from next to me. I didn’t even see her approach—but I did notice the eager, sparkling look in her eyes as she set her sights on her latest prey. “I don’t want to get lost in the dark.”

  My teeth clamped onto my tongue to stop myself from groaning out loud.

  Aside from the well-trodden path, I’d hiked this trail a hundred times. I wasn’t getting lost. She wasn’t getting lost. She just wanted to spend more time with the gorgeous park ranger.

  “Of course,” he said with the kind of dedication and responsibility in his tone that made me shiver and a flash of a smile that made my steady knees weak. I’d never been affected by a man in uniform. Not like this.

  Maybe because for the first time, it seemed as though his uniform was a poor disguise for the amount of chivalry contained beneath it. And that was a stark contrast to many of the men in my class, unfortunately, who used their dress as a billboard to conceal what was lacking.

  As he turned to face the way we’d come from, Zoe nudged my elbow with a gleaming grin.

  “Guess this hike wasn’t a total waste,” she snickered with a too-obvious wink.

  “You’re ridiculous,” I stated bluntly, crossing my arms.

  “And he’s gorgeous.”

  “He’s a ranger. He’s probably married, or at least has a girlfriend with a smile like that,” I murmured hurriedly as we began to walk in his direction.

  “Not the way he was looking at you, he’s not.”

  “Thank you so much for accompanying us,” Zoe gushed after we spent a good distance as attentive listeners while the ranger pointed out sights, foliage, and wildlife along the trail. Funny how I’d walked this path so many times, but tonight I was seeing things I never had before.

  Like the ridiculously gorgeous ranger it would’ve been nice to have met four years ago.

  “I’m Zoe, by the way. Zoe Geller,” she tacked on.

  The mountain ranger glanced over his shoulder, his heated eyes meeting mine instead of hers.

  “Logan Daniels,” he introduced. “Pleasure.”

  And then his gaze was gone.

  “We just graduated yesterday—” I elbowed her with a warning stare not to elaborate.

  My life was dedicated to serving this country but the moments that were mine were just that—mine.

  Zoe gave me a pinched face back and continued blithely, “And we wanted to go for a hike before heading back into Estes for celebratory drinks.”

  “Congratulations,” he said politely making conversation. “Where’d you graduate?”

  “Colorado Springs,” I answered, toeing the line since that was technically the location of the Academy.

  He nodded but didn’t look back. “Park’s been pretty busy lately with Colorado State graduates and their parents. Good weather for hiking.” He paused as though deciding whether or not to say what inevitably came out next. “You know where you’re heading to?”

  “Not sure yet.” Zoe shrugged, linking her hands behind her back. “Know any good watering holes?”

  “Trail Ridge Tavern is probably your best bet,” he advised. “Mostly locals. Not overpriced. Duke runs it right.”

  “Friend of yours?” I asked, picking up my pace so I was walking right next to Zoe and just a step behind the handsome ranger.

  “Yeah. Good guy.” Ranger Daniels smiled over his shoulder and my stomach flipped. “Tell him I sent you and he’ll take good care of you.”

  “Or you could tell him,” I suggested innocently, causing his measured steps to pause.

  “Yes! You should come down and have a drink or two with us.” Her eyebrows popped up and I wondered if I should be regretting my subtle invitation.

  I tripped, but before my body could knee-jerk react to the incoming fall, his large, warm hands were on my upper arms, keeping me upright and steadying me.

  “You okay?” His brow furrowed, scanning my face and stealing a little more of my breath.

  I knew Zoe was staring. I knew I should pull back. But I liked the feel of his hands too much.

  Damn, it had been too long since I’d been looked at… touched like this…

  “Yeah, I’m good. Just caught my foot on a rock.” My assurance came out smoothly. “Thank you, Ranger Daniels.”

  His fingers tightened ever so slightly. “Logan.”

  For a second longer than necessary, my breath remained hitched and his hands stayed holding me before he reluctantly let go and we began our trek back to the parking lot once more.

  Zoe gave me a silent ‘r
eally?’ stare.

  “It was a rock,” I mumbled to her.

  Her eyes rolled so hard I was surprised they didn’t start an avalanche.

  “So, Logan, you’re heading down there then?” she prodded as my white Cherokee Trailhawk came into view.

  He paused and pulled off his hat, revealing thick oak-brown waves that fell onto the prominent ridge of his brow. Discerning eyes slid to me with a golden glaze of armor and attraction.

  “Don’t mind her,” I told him, planting a hand on his waist and raising my chin. “Zoe graduated with a degree in peer pressure, so if you have to work—”

  “My shift’s done,” he replied succinctly.

  In one sense, he reminded me of many of my superiors the way he replied in facts structured by rules. Only, their rules came from an external guide. This man… Ranger Daniels… his code of conduct came from somewhere down inside—somewhere I itched to know about.

  “Well, then you should come,” I said, the corner of my lips tipping up. “It’ll be fun.”

  For four years, Cadet Covington followed every order.

  For tonight, Civilian Shay wanted to break all the rules.

  “Oh my God! Ranger Danger! Ranger Danger!” Zoe whacked the back of her hand on my arm several times like I hadn’t noticed the second Ranger Daniels walked into the small but lively Trail Ridge Tavern down the road in Estes Park.

  The Tavern was a perfect choice for tonight. Busy, but not crowded. It was easy for us to claim seats at the long amber-stained, gnarled wood bar that trailed down the length of the room. Old fans spun on the ceiling using a maze of interconnected belts to provide a breeze of cool air every now and again.

  Music played from the new but vintage-looking jukebox in the corner. And the walls were covered with old photos of Estes Park—one before and after the massive flood in nineteen-seventy-six, and even one with Stephen King inside the tavern. But the oldest I’d found was seventy-eight years ago with two younger men in mining suits, sporting giant grins as they stood outside the famous Stanley Hotel. Every photo had a story, Duke said—and the kind, bald bartender promised to share any one we wanted to hear.