Chapter 1

1

SARAH

" S arah Marie Thomas!"

My name echoed from the loudspeakers, and it was my turn to go up on stage. Pride filled me, along with the wild fear that I might stumble and fall face first in front of all my classmates.

With careful steps, I took my moment and strode across the stage. In my crisp blue uniform, I hoped nobody could see how sweaty I was through the fabric. Graduation day at the Air Force Academy in Colorado was something I had been looking forward to since I was a little girl. Years of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice were paying off. But the pressure?

It was cooking me alive.

I smiled for the camera and continued down the stage steps, my shoulders back and my chin held high. The applause from the crowd had me grinning wider. I'd always thrived in a pressure cooker.

"We did it," Maddie, my best friend, leaned over and whispered in my ear. She gave my ribs an eager jab with her bony elbow. "I can't believe we did it!"

We had been through it all together—the early morning drills, the rigorous academic courses, the grueling physical training. And now, as we gazed out at the sea of faces in the audience, I couldn't help but feel like I was standing on the edge of something big. Something epic, even.

This moment was the beginning of my career in the Air Force.

Somebody pinch me.

I stood quietly and watched the rest of my classmates take their turn in the spotlight. As the last of them received their diplomas, the final notes of the graduation march faded away. The ceremony ended with speeches from decorated generals, marking the end of our time at the academy and the beginning of our careers in the Air Force.

Maddie shot me a giant grin and we ripped off our caps and tossed them as high as we could. Tassels danced in front of the blue sky before the caps descended back to earth. Family and friends cheered for us, but their cries were just background noise to the roar of pride thundering in my ears.

Maddie threw her arms around me and jumped up and down, jostling me. When she pulled back, she had joyful tears in her eyes. "I'm proud of us," she said.

"Me too." Laughing, I ran my fingers over my slicked-back hair that was pulled into a knot at the base of my neck, just like all the other female cadets. I rose to the tips of my toes and peered over top of the crowd, searching for the one face I wanted to see most. "Where is he?"

Maddie searched as well. She had a good few inches of height on me, so she spotted him first, spun me around, and pointed me in the direction of my biggest supporter. "There," she said, nudging me. "Go. I'll catch up with you later."

I spotted him standing near the front, surrounded by a group of my teachers, his uniform heavily decorated with all the service ribbons of his prestigious career. With a grin plastered on my face, I made my way toward him, my heart pounding with excitement.

"Dad!" I called out, unable to contain my joy.

He turned toward me, his eyes shining with pride. "Sarah!" He pulled me in for a bear hug that squeezed all the air out of my lungs.

"I'm so proud of you," he said, his deep baritone voice rumbling in his chest. "We've worked so hard for this moment, and you deserve every bit of success that comes your way."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I hugged him back, feeling a surge of gratitude for everything he had done for me. And yet, a thought teased the back of my mind. I've worked so hard. Not we .

It wasn't nepotism that got me here. I busted my ass to get into the academy and I was the one that pulled the grades. I did it without him. Yes, I had his name, which had a lot of weight behind it, but that didn't mean I got a free pass at any of it. If anything, I had to work that much harder.

"I want you to meet some of the people who helped shape you into the person you are today," he said. "As people, not your teachers."

He introduced me to each of them. I smiled gratefully, shaking their hands and exchanging pleasantries. But then, as I turned to face the last person in the group, my breath caught in my throat.

Standing before me was him. The most impressive fighter pilot in the Air Force. I had heard countless stories about him during my time at the academy. I even had a poster of him hanging in my old bedroom back home. A dreamy poster, I might add. Tom Cruise had nothing on the man before me.

Dean. Freaking. Ryker.

No way. No way. No way!

Dean held out his hand for me to shake. Hurriedly, I wiped my sweaty palms on my uniform and took his hand. His lips curved in a kind smile that softened his features but didn't take the sharpness out of his gaze. I managed to smile back at him, having to tip my head back to look up. He was so much taller than I expected. How did he fit comfortably in a cockpit?

Dean had been the youngest of his class and of all the classes after him, to do, well, anything. His expertise in a fighter jet was unmatched. Everybody in my class wanted to be like him. Or have him all to themselves.

I couldn't imagine if I had been in class with him. I would never have gotten anything done. He was the kind of dude girls daydreamed about to the point of total distraction. I would have been hopelessly doodling his name in my flight schedule and flunked in weeks.

"Sarah, this is Dean Ryker," my father said, breaking the spell. "He's one of the finest pilots the Air Force has ever seen."

I nodded dumbly, unable to tear my gaze away from Dean's piercing green eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarah," he said, his voice smooth as an expensive whiskey.

"The pleasure is all mine," I squeaked out, mentally kicking myself for sounding so awkward.

But Dean just smiled, a crooked grin that sent my heart racing even faster. I was sure he was used to women drooling all over him. He was beyond sexy, and he had to know it. It really wasn't fair to the rest of us mere mortals.

My father was pulled away to talk with more of his admirers. I found myself lingering near Dean, desperate to keep talking to him.

Say something, Sarah. Say anything!

"Congratulations on your graduation," Dean said, saving me from having to think of something.

"Thank you," I said, suddenly gushing. "That means a lot coming from you. I mean, you're you . You're a legend. But you're real. And you're here. At my graduation. Telling me congraduations —I mean congratulations." My words tumbled over each other in my eagerness. "You're such an inspiration to me. To all of us. Hell, I even had a poster?—"

My father placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder before I could embarrass myself by mentioning the poster of Ryker I had on my bedroom wall. Why the hell had I been about to tell him that?

"We're all very proud of you today, Sarah," my father said.

My cheeks burned as I stared at the ground. Why couldn't I keep my cool around him? Guys never had this effect on me. Usually, I was the one making them nervous. But Ryker was just so damn impressive. He was the only pilot I knew that used his last name as his call sign. No one else was that cool. Everyone else had to use a name typically given to them.

"Your father speaks highly of you, Sarah," Ryker said. "And thank you for all the kind words. I'm sure we'll meet again someday. Maybe even in the air."

With a slight nod, he began to walk away.

"Ryker, hold up a second," Dad said. "I need to talk to you about something."

I took that as my cue to leave them alone. My dad often had these private conversations. I was used to being told it was classified or above my rank. I rushed away to join Maddie. She had been watching the exchange with wide eyes.

"Did you see that?!" I squealed.

Maddie fanned herself dramatically, pretending to swoon. "That man could target me with his heat-seeking missile anytime," Maddie joked, her eyes twinkling. "Seriously, that is the hottest man I've ever seen."

Dean Ryker was indeed the epitome of perfection. We watched him talk with my dad, neither of us able to quit staring at the man's broad shoulders or steely-eyed gaze. He moved with an easy agility, as graceful on the ground as in the air.

"I wonder if he's good in bed," Maddie mused aloud.

I shoved her. "Don't say that!"

She laughed. "Uh, like you weren't thinking it. Have you seen how he handles a jet? Imagine what he could do with your body. I'm imagining it right now and it brings a tear to my eye. And it's not just my eyes getting damp."

"I can't believe you just said that," I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard Maddie's scandalous comment.

She just grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "I'm just saying, I should have joined the Navy because I need a wetsuit with that man around."

"Stop!" I laughed and shook my head. "You can't put those thoughts in my head or I'll never be able to talk to him again without blushing."

"Your dad knows him?"

"My dad knows everyone," I said with a sigh.

Maddie nodded. "Which means Dean Ryker is off limits."

"Exactly."

"But not for me," she said with a grin. "My dad isn't going to care if I grab his stick and go full throttle."

I rolled my eyes at her. "That's not even how jets work. How the hell did you graduate?"

Maddie responded with a playful smirk. "I just want him in my cockpit."

"Oh, no, please don't call your vagina that! Have some self-respect, Maddie."

She howled with laughter and I shook my head at her. Deep down, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. She always had a carefree attitude when it came to guys, while I tended to overthink every little detail. And Dean Ryker wasn't just any guy. He was everything a guy should aspire to be.

"I saw him first," I retorted.

"But you can't have him." She shrugged and grinned. "Your cockpit will remain empty."

"I hate you."

"Look at him," she whispered. "How tall do you think he is?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "My dad is six feet, so maybe six-two, six-three?"

A few of our classmates approached.

"Is that Dean Ryker?" one whispered.

I nodded. "It is."

"My dad flew with him and said he's a madman," one person claimed.

"I heard he only flies in shows now," another chimed in.

"No, he's a test pilot. He's pioneering maneuvers for dogfighting and combat."

"I'd give my left nut to learn from him," one of our guy friends joked.

"No one wants your left nut," I said. "Or your right one."

"Very funny." He laughed and tried to give me bedroom eyes. "You know you want this. We've graduated now. You can't use the excuse you have to study."

"I don't need an excuse to shoot you down, flyboy." I smiled coyly. "I'll just tell you straight—no thank you. Give your chlamydia to someone else."

He threw his head back and laughed, his arms wrapping around his barrel chest. "That's what I like about you, Sarah." He slapped me on the back, his eyes twinkling. "You always know how to put a guy in his place."

"Ryker only trains with the best," one of my classmates said. "I heard he's going overseas."

"He's getting deployed?" I asked with surprise.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I just heard he wasn't going to be around anymore."

I watched my father talking to him and wondered if that was what they were discussing.

"I bet he's leaving because his wife just left him," someone whispered.

I turned around. "Really?

"It was messy," the young woman said.

Maddie scoffed. "If he's leaving the country, I would say so."

I had no idea what was real or what wasn't. It didn't really matter. His personal life was his business. All I knew was I wanted my career to be like his. Training with him would be an honor, but I knew that was just a far-off dream.

"Imagine learning from Dean Ryker himself? That would be something," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

"You have a crush," Maddie said, laughing. "I have a feeling if he was your teacher, that crush would vanish. He's hardcore. I've heard he makes men cry."

I shrugged. "Men. Sure. But me? He couldn't make me cry."

"Sarah, you're strong but Ryker's a different breed," Maddie replied, her tone serious. "He doesn't care about people's feelings. He cares about getting the job done."

"But that's what it takes to be the best," I countered. "And that's what I want to be."

Maddie sighed and shook her head. "You'll just have to watch his training videos like the rest of us."

"Maddie, Sarah!" one of our friends called out. "Come on, we're taking pictures."

Prying my eyes away from Ryker was difficult, but I didn't want to make a complete fool of myself. If he really was being shipped overseas, the likelihood of seeing him again was slim to none. I wanted to make sure I committed his image to my memory. The cut of his shoulders and his jaw, the intensity of his gaze, the power in his stance.

As I stood for pictures with friends, my attention continued to shift Dean Ryker's way. He was on an angle, so I admired his profile while my friends draped their arms over my shoulders and laughed for the camera. I managed a smile but couldn't take my eyes off Dean.

He must have felt the heat of my stare because as the camera flashed for the fifth time, his attention flicked to me. We locked eyes. My breath hitched. The camera flashed again, and Dean blinked, shook his head, and turned his back to me.

He was just as gorgeous from that angle.