Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

MIRA

J ust as the sun started rising above the treetops surrounding the private airfield, I parked in front of a helicopter hangar to meet Logan. I had been dreading this trip for the last few days, but only on a personal level.

Professionally, I was very much looking forward to it. These older rigs provided so many more opportunities for change and growth, and Slate and I had already put together plans for this particular rig that we'd been super enthusiastic about—until Stanislopolous had decided that the old ways were the best ways. That the way things had always been done was the way to do them in the future. Simply because they had always been done that way.

If Logan decided to purchase this rig, and even if he didn't hire us as consultants on it, I knew Slate would provide him with our analysis and the proposals we'd made to the current owner. While I'd love to be involved in the actual implementation, I was also just eager to see if what we'd suggested would work out the way we thought it would.

All of which added to the nervous, excited energy coursing through my veins. It was always like this before we started a new job. I genuinely loved what I did, and there was no part of the work so exciting as laying eyes on a new project for the first time .

It didn't even matter that I'd seen this rig before. This would be the first time in years and the first time I'd be inspecting it from the point of view of a takeover and for a potential new owner. It was a complete gamechanger, which meant it might as well have been the first time.

As I climbed out of my car, cool early morning air washed over my skin and I tipped my head back, sliding my hands into my pockets as I inhaled deeply. The faint scent of grease and gasoline hung in the air, and I smiled, absolutely loving the rush I was getting from this.

The downside, however, was the familiar voice that spoke from inside of the hangar, pulling me out of my reverie. "Mira! Looking good, babe. You ready to go? Or do you need another minute?"

As I blinked my eyes open, I came face to face with a suit-wearing Logan. Completely ignoring the lessons I'd thought he'd learned when he'd come out to the rig to see us, he was once again wearing a three-piece suit—a deep navy this time—with a crisp white button-down shirt underneath and polished, shiny shoes.

I ran my gaze over him before glancing down at myself. Naturally having missed the apparent memo to dress up, I'd opted to be warm and practical in jeans, boots, a sweater, and a puffer vest. Looking back up at him, I sighed.

"I'm not looking good, but thanks. I'm looking comfortable. You, on the other hand, seem to be expecting a red carpet to have been rolled out for us."

He shrugged, an easy, relaxed smile on his lips as he offered me his arm. I ignored the gesture, my hands remaining in my pockets as I brushed past him into the hangar.

"Well, I thought it would be best to make a good first impression. No seller is going to take me seriously as a buyer if I don't look like I can afford it."

"If making a good impression is what you're after, you're not going to do it like that. You'd have been better off in holey jeans and your great-grandfather's patchy leather jacket."

"How did you know about that jacket?" he joked. "Did you secretly sneak into my house because you were so curious about me that you just couldn't resist? "

"If I did, I'd never tell you about it." I winked at him over my shoulder before setting my sights on the metal bird in front of us. "Is this thing fueled up and ready to go?"

"We'll be flying into the sunrise in no time. It'll be romantic," he said lightly. "Also, I noticed that you didn't deny being curious about me."

"You really are incorrigible."

"Some might even say I'm charming," he said from much closer behind me than he'd been just a minute ago.

I flexed my fingers in my pockets, mentally preparing myself for a day with him but without letting him get under my skin—or into my pants. As a pilot rounded the chopper with his clipboard in hand, I recognized the guy as the same one who'd flown Logan out to our rig.

I offered him a friendly grin. "How're you doing, Derrick? I checked the forecast this morning and it looks like we'll have a much smoother flight than your last one."

The older man chuckled as he inclined his head, extending his free hand to give mine a warm shake. "Indeed so, Ms. Spiers. It's good to see you again. Let me help you in."

"I've got it, thanks." I approached the open door confidently and from the preferred angle, having had plenty of practice doing this all by myself over the years.

Gripping the metal handles, I placed my foot on the first step, tested to make sure I had a good foothold, and then heaved myself up. Once I was inside the luxurious bubble, I grabbed my headset, chose the seat furthest from the door, and started buckling myself in.

Logan appeared in the open door a few seconds later, grinning at me as he repeated the same boarding procedure I'd just done. "Impressive. I've never seen a woman do that quite as naturally as you."

"There are plenty of female chopper pilots."

"Yeah," he conceded as he sat down on the opposite side of my bench. "I've never flown with one, though. I've only ever had two pilots. Derrick, and the guy he took over from. "

"And so the women you've been on helicopters with have all been dates?" I guessed.

He shrugged. "Some, but not all. I do have women working for me, you know. It has happened that some of them have come out to meetings with me, but they've never been as surefooted about it as you."

"I'm not sure if you think that's a compliment," I teased. "Ultimately, though, there are a few reasons I don't like to wear high heels, and you've just touched on one of them."

He gave me a sly smile as he slid his headset on. "But they make your ass look so damn good."

A flush crept up my cheeks, but I wasn't sure if it was appreciation or annoyance. Either way, I was saved from having to respond when Derrick got settled and spoke through the headsets. "Clear skies today, boss. We shouldn't have any trouble."

Logan nodded curtly, then pulled out his phone while Derrick did his pre-flight checks, and finally, we took off. During the flight, I was expecting more banter and joking from Logan, but it never came.

He was immersed in his phone, brow furrowing at times while he read over something and his jaw hardening as he tapped out either notes or responses. I didn't know why I was feeling a touch disappointed about it, but I didn't dwell on it.

Instead, I pulled out my own phone and reviewed the notes Slate and I had made about Stanislopoulos's rig the last time we'd been out there. The flight passed uneventfully, and before I even knew it, the rig was rising up from the sea in the distance.

I cleared my throat, reaching out to tap Logan's shoulder before I pointed in its direction. "There she is. She's a beauty, right?"

His gaze snapped up from his phone and he leaned over, squinting his eyes before he finally glanced at me. "It's clearly an older structure than the other one. I could be wrong, but it also seems to be a lot rustier."

"It's fully operational," I assured him. "Like I said, it's just not been run as well, and you're right, it is older."

"What kind of facilities does it have?" he asked. "I know that's not as important as the production aspect, but I feel like it would give me a better picture just to put things in perspective."

"Well, it doesn't have a gym or a game room," I replied as I thought over the notes I'd just read. "There's a workout space, but it wasn't very well equipped, and if memory serves, it posed quite a few dangers."

"No game room?" He scowled in mock outrage. "Well, now that's just unacceptable."

I pumped my eyebrows at him. "I know. Slate and I suggested it years ago. We told Stanislopoulos that it was important to give the men a proper space to unwind and busy themselves with something other than work, but he said the TV room they had was enough."

"Wow."

"Yep. Last I saw it, it was little more than a lounge that could only seat about seven guys comfortably at any given time and it still had an old box TV in it."

He blew out a soft whistle. "Shit. Safe to say morale on that thing won't be very good?"

I shrugged. "That's all they know. You can't miss something you've never had and a lot of these men have only ever worked for Stanislopoulos.

"What about their production?"

Knowing that it wouldn't help to delve into too much detail when he admittedly wouldn't understand everything I was saying, I kept it simple. "Production is where they excel. It really is an incredibly profitable rig and it honestly hasn't been run optimally for at least a decade. Stanislopoulos is stuck in his ways. At our projections the last time we came out here, he could've been taking home at least twenty percent more if he'd just been willing to make a few changes."

Logan's chiseled, strong jaw tightened as he nodded, but he didn't say anything else until Derrick had landed on the rig and I was introducing him to the old man. They shook hands, and Stanislopoulos focused only on Logan from there.

"Let me show you around, Mr. Jones. This rig is my pride and joy. I'm sure it will be the same for you. "

To Logan's credit, he waited for me instead of taking off when the owner started walking, expecting him to fall into step beside him. Logan motioned for me to join them, then only started following once I was with him too.

Smug satisfaction rolled through me at the consternation on the old man's face. I knew he didn't support women working in the oil field, and here was Logan, making a point of subtly insisting upon my inclusion in the tour.

Almost as soon as we started walking, I realized that I hadn't needed said tour at all, though. Things had gotten a little bit shabbier since Slate and I had been out here last, and absolutely no improvements had been made. My mind wandered back to our notes and the suggestions we'd made, and in my mind's eye, I tried imaging this thing with our ideas being implemented.

Lost in thought, I didn't realize when Stanislopoulos stepped away, leaving Logan and me alone for a moment. I only blinked myself into the present again when a loud wolf whistle pierced the air. "Hello there, hot stuff. The old man finally flew in some entertainment for us, did he?"

It took me a minute to realize he was talking to me, and my eyebrows shot up as I searched the faces of the men around until my gaze landed on a guy thrusting his hips and licking the space between his fingers suggestively. Aggravation crashed into me, but I knew how to handle this.

Thrusting my chin into the air, I laughed him off. "You're a fucking dog, man. It's never going to happen, so put your tongue back in your mouth and get back to work."

Several "ooohs" and "burns" rang out from the guy's coworkers, and his beady eyes narrowed, but clearly, he now felt like he had something to prove. "Come here, sweetheart. Let me show you how this dog likes to lick his favorite treats."

I blew out a breath, hating this part of the process. I knew it was a necessary evil to these guys, but it still never failed to make me feel super uncomfortable until finally, I won their respect. Suddenly, however, Logan was in the guy's face, his fist wrapped around the man's collar and a vein ticking in his jaw.

"My first order of business after buying this rig will be to fire your ass for harassment. Apologize to the lady, or you might just find the termination of your employment becomes a condition of the sale."

For a moment, the guy stared back at Logan menacingly and it looked like a fight might break out. My heart raced and my palms were sweaty as hell even though it was pretty cold out here in the middle of nowhere.

Finally, the man backed down, tossing me a condescending glare. "I apologize, lady."

Logan let go of him, shoving him a few steps back in the process, and then strode back over to me. His hand landed on the small of my back as he led me away from them, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was following us.

As he did, I swore I heard a growl coming from the back of his throat, and a thrill shot through me. Had I needed him to step in? Hell no.

But did I appreciate that he had? Yes.

The appreciation didn't have a patch on how sexy I'd found that protective growl, though. Coming from a guy who was usually so polished and collected, it'd been insanely hot—and more dangerously, it'd made me want to do whatever it took to bring it out in him again.