Fly Away, page 13
part #5 of Baxter Boys Series
His hand slid under her hair to grip the back of her neck. “It’s probably never going to go completely away. Is it so awful that I want to protect you?”
With those words, she remembered Janice and how she’d died in the same accident he survived. He’d never given her details, but it had to be hard to know he couldn’t save her.
“I’m not really used to anyone caring,” she finally said.
“I don’t want to smother you, but you’re gonna know I care.”
She smiled. His face looked craggy and fierce in the sharp light. “I like that you care.”
“Maybe something other than mountain climbing?”
“Maybe,” she agreed, picking her way around the coffee table and walking out to the kitchen where she flipped the small over-the-sink light on and opened the fridge.
He came around behind her, his arms enclosing her. She leaned back into him, thankful to have someone behind her who would catch her when she fell. Like today.
“I said, I’d do it,” he growled in her ear.
“Your bear voice doesn’t scare me,” she replied flippantly, leaning forward to grab cold cuts and mayo.
He moved back. “Really? I’ll have to work on that.”
She laughed, closing the fridge as he walked to the counter and grabbed bread.
“Are you eating too?” he asked.
To her surprise, she was actually hungry. “Yeah. I think I will.”
He grinned, looking her over. “You seem a little happier.” He set the bread down and opened the bag. “Now, I know your friends were here, but I’m just thinking it was me kissing you that made all the difference.”
She laughed outright. “Nope. It was the idea that I could replace motocross with something else. Something challenging. Something I can push myself to win on.”
He spun around. “What?” He stalked toward her. “I’m thinking I didn’t kiss you long enough or hard enough if you’ve got any thoughts left in your head. Any.”
He put his hands on her shoulders.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I was kidding. It was your kiss. It was definitely your kiss that made me smile.”
~~~
Dusty woke up in her bed, the memory of the day before in fragments. The devastation of finding out she would never race again, the anger at Roland for not telling her. Her friends’ support. Roland’s tender care and sweet teasing.
His replacement suggestion.
His kiss.
She stretched and rolled, pulling the covers more snugly around her. Before he’d gone, he’d let her know that he hadn’t gotten into any trouble at work over Abigail, and with his words of encouragement in her ear and her lips still tingling from his kiss, he’d left.
She’d thought of something to replace motocross. She’d actually thought of it the night before, but she didn’t want to say anything to Roland. First of all, it’d been years since her last lesson. And secondly, she wanted to surprise him.
He had so much confidence and faith in her. And not only that, but he’d been so supportive, not only with her therapy and with helping her, but he’d spent the entire evening holding her last night. Teasing her out of her funk. Kissing her...
She wanted to make him smile.
And she was going to start today. She’d taken lessons for a year back when she was eighteen. As soon as she got up, she was going to look up the number for the regional airport and see if Whiff was still there giving flying lessons.
~~~
Thursday morning, Roland dropped his car off at Tough’s shop for tires. He rode to work with Matt who worked in imaging. They weren’t late, but normally Roland walked in at least thirty minutes early, not at one minute ’til.
As soon as he walked into the office, the ominous air hit him. There was no chatter. No one greeted him. Even Abigail stood in a corner, her head buried in a chart.
Roland had the strongest urge to turn around and walk back out, closing the door behind him. But he’d not gotten where he was by avoiding the hard thing, so he walked in, his head up. This had to be about him. And it was almost certainly about his relationship with Dusty. Today was the first day his supervisor, Craig, was back. Abigail was in too convenient of a position for her to have not told on him.
He walked to the small kitchen room and put his lunch in the fridge. He didn’t even have the door shut when he heard Craig’s voice. “Has he gotten here, yet?”
Craig hadn’t said a name. Roland didn’t need him to. “I’m in here.”
The doorway darkened. Roland’s chest darkened in the same manner. He turned.
“I need to see you in my office.”
Roland lifted his chin and followed him out.
Craig waited for him to walk through. The office had a shelf of books on one wall and a large picture of the ocean on the other. Several plants sat in stands on the floor. A large window looked out over the green grass behind the building.
Craig carefully closed the door behind himself and walked to his desk. Roland didn’t sit down, and Craig didn’t invite him to. Craig leaned his butt against the corner of the desk and folded his hands over his chest.
“I have a problem.” Craig finally spoke.
Roland kept his gaze level. He didn’t flinch or look away.
Craig sighed. “A big problem.”
Roland waited.
“Here’s my dilemma. This week while I was gone, I got two phone calls. One from a professional football team. One of their guys lives not far from here, and he hurt himself this past season. He’s been working with the team therapist, but it’s getting to be a hassle, and he wants someone closer. They want to transfer him to our practice.” Here Craig paused. His stare seemed to intensify. “To you. They specifically asked for you.”
Roland allowed one side of his mouth to curve up. It was a huge honor, and they both knew it.
“I got another phone call from the state college here in town. Their nationally ranked girls’ basketball team wants to use us as their official therapy center. Again, you. They mentioned you specifically.”
Roland waited. Craig wasn’t smiling, and this was all big news. There should be smiles. Obviously, there was another shoe that was going to drop.
“But I received a report, via email, yesterday. A person in this office claims they saw you with a client. Kissing her. That’s going to be a little hard to explain to the girls’ basketball team, especially.” He tilted his head. “Actually, I guess I only assumed the client you were kissing was a woman.” He waited with brows lifted.
Roland didn’t bother to answer his implied question.
“This accusation is not only hard to explain, it’s going to devastate your career. Unfortunately, it could also bankrupt our therapy center as well. We depend on these sports teams in the area to look to us. Currently, you’re the one that draws them in.” He paused, a shadow of fear crossing his face before he schooled his features. “Roland. I need to know. Is the report wrong? Did anyone else see? Can we deny it?”
The murmur of voices came through the door. Something clicked. Craig’s desk creaked as he shifted on it.
“Abigail saw me with Dusty Gibson last weekend.”
Recognition flared in Craig’s eyes.
“Dusty was a client here. She wasn’t allowed to drive, and getting a ride here was burdensome for her.”
Craig listened intently.
“Full disclosure, though. I offered to do therapy at home with her, under the umbrella of our group.” He had never been inappropriate with Dusty during the therapy sessions. “Billed through our group, of course.”
Craig’s face clouded again.
“As you know, I have my own business license and have done private sessions in the past. Since she already started here as a client, I didn’t take her away but billed her insurance company at the home therapy rate.”
Craig nodded.
“She took me up on it, and I’ve been doing therapy with her at her home for the last few weeks.” He faced Craig, head-on. “And yes, I was out with her this weekend, and yes, I kissed her.” Multiple times.
He didn’t bother to mention Abigail’s proposition to him—asking him out on a date with her last Friday in the office. It was at the end of the day. Although it might be technically against the rules, it didn’t bother him, and he wasn’t going to report it. It felt too much like tit for tat back in elementary school. If it bothered him, he should have, and would have, reported it at the time. Not waited until a convenient time to get her in trouble.
Craig rubbed his chin. “I don’t suppose you’re married to Dusty?”
Roland snorted. “No.” The idea was not repulsive. Not to him.
“Because that would make this whole thing go away. If you two were married, there would be no issue. You can kiss your wife anytime.”
“We’re not.”
Craig continued to look at him with lifted brows.
“We have no plans in that direction.” Dusty didn’t want to be married. She had a new mountain to climb. Hopefully figuratively speaking.
“Could you be persuaded? If I can say you’re married, I don’t have to say exactly when it happened, and this whole thing could go away.”
“I’d marry her today, if I could. She’s not ready, and I’m not pushing her. Not to save my butt.”
“I don’t care about your butt. It’s your reputation that’s at stake.”
“I’m not sacrificing Dusty on the altar of my reputation.”
“What about the altar of this therapy group?”
“Dusty is more important.”
“Then she’s a fool if she won’t marry a man who would sacrifice his career for her.”
“She’s not going to find out about any sacrifices on my part.” He lowered his chin, his eyes dark. “She’d better not.”
Craig held up his hands. “Fine. Whatever. If you’re kissing her off the clock, that’s technically fine. However, if this thing blows up, I have no choice but to fire you.”
The back room was deserted when Roland walked out of Craig’s office. Although he was already behind schedule, Roland walked to the small kitchen area and pulled a water out. He should be more upset about possibly losing his job. It should bother him. He should be scared and devastated, but he almost felt like it was time to move on anyway. Maybe that was the restlessness that he’d felt since being with Dusty.
He didn’t hear Abigail come in, but when he turned, she stood in the door. Anger surged hot inside of him. Why had she felt the need to run to Craig about what he was doing when she knew she’d broken the rules, too?
She bit her lip. Her smirk had been replaced by an expression that looked almost contrite. His anger still simmered inside.
“You didn’t tell on me,” she said softly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He told her the truth. “If it bothered me, I would have reported it when you did it. You accepted my no, and that’s all there was.”
She nodded. “I see.”
He figured she did. He still didn’t trust her.
She looked at him from under her lashes. “I know you’re angry at me, but I think I can fix this.” Her expression shifted, and he caught a glimpse of the sly woman he knew her to be. “I need a favor from you.”
The anger in his chest bubbled and popped. How could she think that he’d do a favor for her now?
He waited.
“The blond guy that was with you on Saturday?”
Tucker. She had to be talking about Tucker.
“He drove a Jaguar?” she prompted when he didn’t respond.
Had Tucker been driving a Jaguar? He hadn’t noticed. He raised one brow.
“Set me up with him, and I’ll tell Craig that I’ll go on record saying that I originally thought it was you and Dusty, but in hindsight, I was wrong.”
He flinched at Dusty’s name. It was one thing for him to lose his career. A huge thing, no mistake. But Dusty was so much more important that he couldn’t even begin to match the depth of emotion he felt when Abigail said her name. Protective feelings rose up hot and strong within him. He’d do whatever it took to keep her safely out of this.
He would call Tucker and see if he’d go along with this. If he would, it would keep Dusty from ever hearing about any of it. She had enough to deal with.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Abigail’s smirk was back. Roland made a mental note to warn Tucker about her, to caution him not to let his guard down with her.
“I can’t make him fall for you,” he added.
“I know. All I ask is a chance. A date. The rest is up to me. If you get me that far, I will do exactly what I just said and make sure Craig knows there is nothing to that email I sent him.”
“I want it in writing.”
“I’ll copy you on the email.”
Chapter 18
Roland thanked Matt for the ride and got out in front of Tough’s garage. The big overhead door was open, and he could hear the old men arguing from out here. He came to a stop when he saw a Harley sitting on the far side of the garage door with a For Sale sign stuck to the handlebars. Nothing fancy, but still a Harley.
He’d never been in Dusty’s garage, and she’d only this week been given the okay to start driving. If she hadn’t been joking about riding it to therapy and she really had a bike, he’d never seen it.
The doctor had told her “no racing” not “no riding motorcycles.” Maybe this was something she could do to take the place of motocross.
He walked over and walked around the bike before shaking his head and stepping into the cool interior of the garage.
His car sat in the far bay, the tires on. The old men at the checkerboard didn’t even look up, let alone stop arguing. Tough wasn’t out in the garage, so Roland walked to his office door. The old men never noticed him. He smiled to himself, wondering if that would be him some day.
Tough’s door was cracked, and Roland knocked lightly before pushing it open. Tough sat at his computer, typing away. He looked up and nodded before finishing what he was typing and pushing back from the desk.
“Car’s done.”
Roland walked in and pulled the door closed behind him. Not latching it, but keeping out the arguing of the old men. “Yeah. I saw.” He handed his card over. “I didn’t see an invoice, but you always treat me fair. Run it before I leave, and I won’t have to send a check.”
Tough did some clicking before swiping Roland’s card on his portable reader and printing out a receipt. He handed the card back.
“Saw the bike out front.”
Tough pushed back, rolling his chair back and pulling the receipt out of the printer. He held it in his hand for a moment before looking at Roland with a considering gaze. “I think she’d like it. Matches the one she has.” He handed Roland the receipt.
Roland grunted, taking the paper. Tough always seemed to be two steps ahead of him. “I wasn’t sure she had one. Never been in her garage.” He looked at the desk where a picture of Kelly holding their kids was framed. “I’ve never ridden one, don’t know anything about them.”
Tough’s serious brown eyes narrowed. “Might be time to take a few chances.”
Roland had the feeling he meant more than buying a bike he didn’t know anything about.
Tough went on. “Kid that’s selling it is a good guy. Bought it new and can’t afford the payments. He’s selling it for what he owes. It’s a good deal.”
That was more talking than Roland usually heard from Tough. He nodded, trying to look like he knew what he was doing.
“She’s perfect for you. Maybe a bit fast, but don’t let that scare you. Like I said, might be time to take a few chances.”
Roland stared at Tough. He’d thought at first he was talking about the bike, but after studying the expression on Tough’s face, he wasn’t so sure. Actually, he was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the bike. Tough hadn’t said Dusty’s name once. But maybe he shouldn’t have to.
Roland thanked him and walked out, considering.
He wasn’t exactly a conservative bookkeeper who was afraid of his own shadow. What was Tough trying to say?
~~~
Dusty stretched and turned off her computer. The last few weeks had flown by. She only needed therapy once a week, but she still saw Roland almost every day. He was coming over this evening, in fact. He’d said he had a surprise for her.
Well, she had a surprise for him, too.
She’d been taking flying lessons every morning. Everything she’d learned from her lessons a few years ago came back fairly easily, and her instructor, Whiff, had told her she was ready to man the controls herself. He’d also said she could bring along a guest. Whiff would be with them, but she could still hardly contain her excitement. She’d kept the lessons a secret from Roland, just because she wanted to surprise him—she’d listened to his advice and found something to take the place of motocross. Not that she didn’t still miss it. She did. But the awesomeness of soaring several thousand feet above the earth, flying through clouds, and watching the ground race by was more than worth it.
She hadn’t decided if she was going to pursue a career as a pilot or if she was going to continue to keep it a hobby. Her design business was doing okay. She could live on the income, especially since she’d gotten several consulting jobs directly related to motocross. Those jobs didn’t have anything to do with graphic design, but they paid pretty well. Still, she’d rather fly. Something about being in the air, the thrill, the little bit of danger, and the speed. Definitely more invigorating than sitting behind a computer working with designs.
The only problem with being a pilot...she had a deepening desire to settle down. With Roland. She knew he wanted a family that was together all the time. If she pursued a career as an airline pilot, not only would it take a lot of flying hours, but she’d end up staying in different cities almost every night. With luck, she might be home two nights a week. She loved flying, and to her, the sacrifice might be worth it, but to Roland? She didn’t want to ask him to give up his dream of a tight-knit family.
