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A tempting thought, admittedly, but maybe best to stay away from the girl. First his jaw, then hot coffee spilled inches from his crotch. He couldn’t afford to lose a limb at this point. “Fortune Ranch?”
“It’s not a cattle ranch anymore. Mostly where we have the high school’s Sadie Hawkins dance, picnics and big company parties. She’s going to add weddings now.”
He looked out the storefront and saw Emily hit her head on the steering wheel of her truck. He recognized the woman who had run after her, since she’d come in a couple of weeks ago to talk to them about newspaper advertising.
Stone headed back to his truck, brand-new cup of fresh coffee in his hand. With no traffic, he was back home within minutes.
After wrestling Winston down again, changing and driving to the airport, by ten Monday morning Stone was back at the flight school. No one here to bother him but the planes. That he could handle.
Finally, a few moments of relative silence. Not common at airports, but there was a lull between landings and takeoffs at San Martin Airport in the afternoons. The airport and its strip were small and located out in the middle of the empty field, formerly zoned for agricultural use alone.
Stone stared out the window at the two Cessna planes, Magnum Flying School printed on the side of one of the planes. Dad’s dream had lasted a good ten years, but it threatened to fizzle out with Stone at the helm. He’d never claimed to be a damned businessman. He knew how to fly a plane. Happened to love flying a plane. Teaching and running a small business was another story.
He shut the window because he smelled shit again, or as his office manager, Cassie, explained, the fertilizer for the mushrooms. It was a fact of life here in Fortune, home of the mushroom, but only mattered depending on which way the wind blew. There were days when the wind shifted and Stone wanted to pack his bags. But then he’d see his father’s photo and be reminded he’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it.
Cassie stuck her head in the door. “Got a minute, boss?”
“Told you not to call me that.”
Cassie Helms was sixtysomething, and nearing retirement. By way of introduction a year ago, she’d told him exactly how old she was and announced she and her husband had a pleasant-sized nest egg and planned to retire to Mexico. In case he got any bright ideas about making any significant changes, he assumed. They’d already bought the hacienda, which made Stone wonder whether perhaps he paid Cassie too much. More than likely, the previous owner had, for many years. Come to think of it, that sounded just like Dad.
Then again, Dad hadn’t been any more of a businessman than Stone. Not when his biggest concern had been that both Cassie and Jedd keep their jobs.
Cassie walked in with a glazed donut, which she placed on his desk. This meant she had semi-bad news, since she often liked to present her news with food offerings. Candy meant good news, donuts semi-bad news. Stone expected in a few weeks he’d find a cake on his desk.
“What is it now?” Stone raked a hand through his hair.
“Mr. Burton wants a meeting,” Cassie said as she eased into the chair across from his desk.
“I should have seen that coming.” In Burton’s place, Stone would have done the same.
Burton, a wealthy retired CEO from Silicon Valley, had been the only one to express interest in buying the school as one of his investments. They’d been in the middle of working out salaries for keeping Cassie and Jedd on staff. Stone could almost smell his freedom, and then his sister had slammed into town. She’d been approached by a developer for almost twice the amount. But that would mean the loss of many local jobs, and likely another strip mall. “I doubt it’s good news.”
“You’ve done everything you could, and I know your father would say the same.”
“He was so proud of you. Had pictures of you and your unit all over the office. I used to like coming in here and seeing all those handsome soldiers. An old lady needs to get her thrills somewhere. But then you took them all down.”
He sure didn’t need any reminders of that time. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“I miss your dad more than I want to admit. The ol’ fart.”
Stone grinned. “I should have put that on his headstone.”
Dad’s presence was here in this office and everywhere Stone looked.
He had a meeting with Sarah and her attorney next week. Matt had talked Stone into it, do-gooder that he was. There should be a job waiting for Matt at the United Nations if he wanted it. Stone supposed it was his own fault for putting her off so long after that first contentious meeting. But on the other hand, she’d been the one to hire an attorney first, forcing him to hire one, too. Still, there was no point in avoiding the inevitable. Maybe with some luck Sarah’s attorney would help, though Stone doubted it. A meeting was all he’d agreed to.
Sarah might be his sister, but in name only. They didn’t know each other anymore, and the fact she only cared about money made him think he didn’t want to know her. She didn’t feel like family since only biology connected them, and he had no obligation to her. The one thing he knew without a doubt was that his obligation was to the only real family with which he’d had a real and lasting connection. The United States Air Force, and James Mcallister.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_74ff0639-75e0-5ee1-a553-515dfb221292)
A MORNING OF ERRANDS followed Emily’s spilled coffee fiasco. She’d been way too close to Stone’s crotch, and not at all in the way she would have preferred. He’d stared at her with those edgy blue eyes that said he now believed she was toxic. And maybe she was to men. They were certainly toxic to her.
She’d just hopped in her truck when her cell phone buzzed. Trish. Emily couldn’t miss this call, or this wedding. Jimmy and Trish were two of her best friends and she wanted to see them married at the ranch. Besides, knowing Trish, they’d spare no expense. Emily pulled over in the parking lot of the Snow White Drive-In to take the call.
“Hey, Trish.”
“Hi, hon. Jimmy tells me you’d like to host our wedding.”
“Yep. I’m expanding. We have a weddings package now.”
“Okay, but Emily, are you serious about this? Because this is the biggest day of my entire life. Bar none.”
“Right.”
“And I want everything to be perfect.”
“Oh, of course and it will be.”
“I mean, I went to that company party you guys gave last year where you ran out of meat. I can’t have that.”
Oh, sigh. Don’t remind her. While half of the staff had claimed to be vegan, many had changed their minds at the party. Hence the lack of preparation.
“That was not our fault. It—”
“Uh-uh. No excuses.”
Emily bit her lower lip. “I promise to give your wedding my undivided attention. I’ll handle every aspect of it myself.”
There was a long, silent pause on the other end of the phone.
“I’ve decided to trust you with my wedding day,” Trish finally spoke.
“I’m honored.”
“I’ll call you in a couple of days with my list of demands.”
“Um, what?”
“I mean, all the little tender touches and personalized effects that I’ve decided will make this day special. Beyond compare. Oh, Emily, I can hardly wait.”
Emily swallowed. She had a bad feeling about this. But no. This was Trish, for crying out loud. No, it would be fine.
When Emily finally got back to the ranch, she recognized the out-of-place vehicle parked next to the barn immediately. The same silver luxury sedan he’d insisted he had to buy for appearance sake, because an engineer who worked for one of the software giants in Silicon Valley had an image to maintain. The last thing she needed right now. Greg.
He was still sitting in the car, no doubt because Grammy wouldn’t let him inside. She’d once said her hospitality could be pushed only so far, and that would include ex-fiancés who cheated on her granddaughter. She’d spent the better part of a year crying over the idiot, and now the sight of him churned emotions she didn’t want to have. Regret and shame, to mention two, but anger and hostility might win the day this time around.
Emily marched over to the sedan as Greg rolled down the window. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
Greg got out of the car and shut the door. “Can’t we talk about this?”
“Now?”
“You walked out the door and stopped taking my calls.”
“And that was a year ago. What’s there to talk about? Nika’s been your maid for over a year, so the transition to live-in girlfriend shouldn’t be hard.”
“Okay, I guess I deserve that.”
“And so much more.” She’d never realized before how close together his brown eyes were—made him look a bit like a weasel.
“But some couples survive these kinds of...bumps in the road.”
“Bump in the road? Is that what you call her?”
“It was pretty clear how much you cared about me. You never for one moment stopped to think that we could work this out. You walked out the door and never looked back.”
She didn’t answer, just glared at him. He didn’t know how many times she’d looked back and wondered how Greg could have fooled her. She thought she knew the signs of a cheating partner. Had read all about them in Cosmopolitan, color coded them and put them on index cards. And yet, with Greg, she’d never seen sign one.
“We both miss you.” Greg shuffled his feet in place. He wore penny loafers and slacks, and he was a vegetarian. And come to think of it, he’d always made her feel like a plate of overcooked vegetables.
Out of the corner of Emily’s eye, she saw Molly, a red streak, headed straight for Greg. She’d hopped on his back before Emily realized it or was able to stop it.
“You son of a bitch!” Molly’s legs were wrapped around his waist, her hands wrestling with his neck.
“What the hell?” Greg turned in circles as he tried to throw her off his back.
“Molly!” Emily put her hand to her mouth and strangled a laugh. This wasn’t the way Emily would have thought to handle it, but nothing less than what Greg deserved. And she wasn’t enough of an angel not to thoroughly enjoy the spectacle for a minute.
“I’ll hold him while you punch him. Go on, I think I’ve got him.” Molly appeared to have a death grip on him with her legs as Emily marveled at how much strength a woman could muster when she was angry enough.
“Get this lunatic off my back,” Greg yelled, while he tried to move Molly’s hands from his eyes.
“Molly, get off him. This isn’t helping.” Emily put a hand over her mouth and tried to keep the laugh out of her voice, with great difficulty.
Molly finally jumped off him. “Fine, you’re too easy. A real man would be able to wrestle me off. Get on out of here, jerk.” Molly waved her arm as she marched up the steps.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.” Greg squared his shoulders and smoothed his wrinkled khakis. “If I’d thrown you off like I should have, you’d have landed on your back.”
“Yeah, right. You’re lucky my daddy isn’t here. He’s the one with a shotgun. If you see his truck pull up, I’d run if I were you.” Molly slammed the front door shut.
Greg ran a hand down his rumpled cotton shirt, and Emily wondered how she’d ever felt this was a man who could love and take care of her. A one-hundred-pound ball of fire had knocked him for a loop.
“I’m sorry about that. You’re not very popular around here.”
“You told everybody what happened?” Greg’s face drained of color.
“She’s my sister.” Emily decided not to add that everyone in her family knew exactly what he’d done, even if she’d left some of the more sordid details out for Grammy’s sake.
“I don’t feel safe here anymore,” Greg said as he opened the door to his sedan. “Can we go somewhere else?”
He wanted her to go talk somewhere else, a place where he felt safe. What a man. “I would, Greg, honestly. But I still have a few working brain cells left.”
Greg smoothed his hair back into place. “This is important, and I don’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”
* * *
GREG LOOKED A LOT more comfortable at The Drip, and Emily began to wonder if maybe her attraction to him at the time had more to do with location. Being a well-respected engineer, Greg commanded a certain presence she found attractive. He was good with computers and PowerPoint presentations, and that had seemed sexy at the time. Besides, Greg had been patient with her dating rules. He’d gone along with each one of them, remarking how refreshing it was to be with a woman who realized what she wanted, who took control of her life.
He’d ordered his usual espresso and remembered her double-shot mocha as if it had been yesterday when he last ordered her one.
“Here you go, jerk. Your triple shot espresso. I didn’t spit in it or anything.” Annie, the head barista and one of Molly’s best friends, nearly slammed the cup down. The fluff of steamed milk rocked. Annie gently put down Emily’s mocha, sniffed and turned away.
Greg’s eyes widened. “Does everybody in town know?”
“I used to work here,” Emily lied. All right, so Molly had a hard time keeping her mouth shut. What else was new?
Greg turned his mug and inspected it, taking a whiff as though he might be able to smell spit. After a few moments, he dared to take a sip. “I’ve missed you.”
“Cut to the chase, Greg. What do you want to tell me? That can’t be it.”
“We’re both sorry it happened. Especially Nika. She’s fully aware of everything you did for her. You got her the job.”
Yes, way to add salt to the wound. Emily had met Nika at a Bay Area nightclub, where she’d been hired as a bartender. But when it was clear she’d lied to get the job and didn’t know a screwdriver from a mimosa (adding vodka to everything, Emily later heard), she’d been fired on the spot.
Emily had heard the commotion, saw a statuesque blonde sobbing and yelling in a foreign language and stupidly followed her into the ladies’ room. Emily blamed it on her years of fixing Molly’s messes, but before she’d known what she was doing, she was comforting Nika. Trying to fix it for her.
“What can you do?” Working as the head event manager at her family’s company gave her a lot of connections.
Unfortunately, it had turned out Nika wasn’t good at much of anything, but Greg needed a maid. Emily had taught her how to clean the house the way Greg liked it, and Nika was reliable and energetic, showing up three times a week. The house was always spotless.
“Watch out for that one,” Rachel had said to Emily the first time she’d introduced Nika.
“Why? You think she’d be interested in Greg? I mean, look at her. She used to date an NFL player.” Emily never dated über-handsome men. Too much temptation to other women.
“All that money he makes is attractive, even if Greg isn’t.” Rachel had said in a thinly veiled warning.
It was true Greg’s software start-up was about to go public and his shares would put him into an entirely different income tax bracket. Not über-rich, though. Not athlete-rich.
But hindsight was twenty-twenty. Nika, like most women, wanted security. Being swimsuit-model gorgeous didn’t take that need away, it turned out. Greg was the marrying kind. Nika saw that, and loyalty was not part of her repertoire. Survival was.
Now Greg reached for Emily’s hand. “I didn’t want you to hear about this from anyone else. Nika and I, we’re getting married.”
Greg already getting married? To the woman he’d cheated on her with? “Married?”
