L
auren Matthews was going to die. Her life was going to end in this tiny little gum-wrapper-size plane, which, given the way it was bouncing around in the air like a Ping Pong ball, was surely going to drop from the sky any second now and burst into flames as it crashed into the side of the nearest mountain peak. Of which there were thousands, so the chance of missing one and miraculously surviving was slim to none.
“Sorry for the turbulence,” the senior pilot called back. “Storm coming, but we’ll beat it in. Not to worry.”
She knew how he’d gotten every one of his gray hairs, too. And did he announce his reassuring tidbits over the intercom? No. He just called out the information over his shoulder. Because she was less than ten feet away. And she was at the back of the plane. In fact, she was the only passenger filling one of the ten available seats. “Not much call for trips past the front range during this time of year,” he’d told her when she’d boarded the tiny piece of tin back in Denver. After she’d disembarked off of the very nice, very large, very steady jumbo jet that, once she’d finally made it out to Dulles and found a place to park and made it all the way in to the terminal, then out to the other terminal, had delivered her quite smoothly all the way, nonstop from Washington to Colorado. A pleasant flight. She’d actually gotten some reading in. Now, with less than thirty minutes left in her daylong journey, she was going to die. Figured.
Sure, the pilot had gone on to say that he made the trip west several times a day during peak season. Which translated to ski season, since, other than mining or ranching, that was all they did in the middle of Colorado as far as she could tell. And she assumed the miners and ranchers didn’t need to fly anywhere all that often. But with the plane bouncing around like some massive cosmic cat was using it as its personal play toy, batting it this way and that, she wasn’t all that reassured by his past success rate.
“How mu-much longer?” she asked, her teeth clacking together as the plane dropped into another air pocket. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the engines. Had she mentioned the engines? The incredibly loud engines?
“We’re descending now.”
“Just what I was afraid of,” she muttered, but looked out the window anyway. Might as well see where she was going to spend her eternal rest. But there was cloud cover now. Thick, dark, gray-black clouds. Swirling all around them. That couldn’t be good.
“Ho-how do you know where to la-land?” she called out, fingers digging even more deeply into the already deep indentations on the armrests as they bounce-bounce-bounced along. “How can y-you see?”
“Radar. Don’t worry,” he said, tossing a quick smile over his shoulder. “I’ve landed in worse. Much worse.” He seemed almost happy about the challenge.
Great, she had the crazy pilot with a death wish. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what “much worse” could consist of, given that, at the moment, her teeth felt like they were cracking from constant impact. A mouth piece would have come in handy, but who knew flying had become a full contact sport?
Just then the plane dropped, then dipped to one side then the other, causing her to rap her head against the window. She added helmet to her new list of must-have carry-on items. “How much longer?”
But the pilot didn’t respond. He was too busy flipping switches and talking on his headset to someone on the ground, trying to land the plane. Which should have instilled all kinds of confidence but fell way short.
She was debating on whether to keep her eyes open or shut, when the pilot called back, “Hang on, we’re coming in.”
“Hang on?
To what?
”
That question was answered a moment later when the wheels touched down, then bounced up, then touched down, then bounced again, jerking her body around like a rag doll strapped to a roller coaster. She grabbed the seat back in front of her with one hand, braced her feet against the bottom of it, gripped the armrest with her other hand, and held on for dear life. Which, in this instance, was not simply a cliché. The plane bounced and jerked for a few hundred more years, then finally stayed on the ground and eventually rolled to a stop.
She wanted to first kiss the pilot, then the ground, but couldn’t seem to pry her cold, stiff fingers from the seat and armrest to do anything but stare dazedly and give a silent and quite fervent prayer of thanks.
“Sorry for the rough commute. It’s that time of year.” He slid a compact umbrella out of a side pocket and handed it back to her. “Here, you’ll want this. It’s a bit fierce out there.”
Now that the droning engine noise had subsided, and her ears had stopped ringing, she identified the new noise she was hearing. It sounded like thunder, but was just the heavy drumming of rain on the body of the airplane. “What are you going to use?”
“I’m fine. Hope you enjoy your stay in Colorado.” The pilot grinned and sketched a quick salute as she took the umbrella and gathered her things.
“They’ll have your bag in the terminal shortly,” he said, shifting to stand long enough to open the mechanism that opened the door, which lowered into its own staircase.
“Okay,” she said, rising on shaky legs. “Thanks.”
He lifted a hand in a quick wave, then seated himself once again in the cockpit and turned back to his wide panel of instruments. A few seconds later, he was back on the radio checking flight plans, it sounded like. Just another day at the office for him.
Lauren hefted her laptop bag and purse strap over her shoulder, then positioned herself so she could open the umbrella outside the door. The wind almost yanked it from her hands, but she grabbed tightly at the last second, barely keeping herself from making a Mary Poppins exit, smack onto the tarmac. Carefully, she exited down the stairs and headed toward the small building that, she assumed, was the terminal.
It was raining so hard, with the wind whipping even harder, that she didn’t even attempt to take a look at her surroundings. Not that she could have seen much anyway, but she’d been looking forward to seeing the Rocky Mountains. All she could do, however, was focus on the wide rivers of water cascading across the paved tarmac as she skipped and hopped her way to the double set of glass doors.
Just as she went to reach for them they swung open for her, and a large male hand snaked out and gripped her elbow. The action startled her into loosening her grip on the umbrella, which was immediately snatched away by the wind and went flying back over her head toward the tarmac. She turned instinctively to see where it went only to get hit with a full swath of rain, which immediately plastered her hair to her head and her clothes to her body, along with fogging up her glasses. She was, for all intents and purposes, blind. She’d never considered herself much of a screamer or a squealer, but she might have done a little of both.
The man holding her elbow tugged her in out of the rain.
“Thank you,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry—my umbrella—”
“Marco picked it up,” came a very deep voice with a bit of a rough edge to it, like maybe he’d just woken up.
She was still blinking water out of her eyes and he still had a hold on her elbow. Her other hand was clutching her purse and laptop bag to her side in a death grip. Everything was just a blur. “Marco?”
“Ground crew. Here, let me take those.”
Her elbow was abruptly released, which sent her a bit off balance, then her bags were suddenly lifted from her shoulder and slipped out of her death grip as if her hands were made from putty, sending her staggering a step in the other direction. Both her feet slipped a little as the smooth soles of her shoes were not made for…well, any of this. And then his hands were on her again, both elbows this time, and, and…well, the entire last sixty seconds had been so discombobulating, for a person who was never discombobulated, that she didn’t know quite what to do. She blinked at him through wet ropes of hair and fogged glasses, arms still akimbo as he wrestled her to a balanced position.
“Bad day?”
It was the dry amusement lacing his tone that gave her the focus she so mercifully needed. She tugged her elbows from his grip, as if all this was suddenly very much his fault, but instead of being the liberating, independence-returning move she was so desperately seeking, the action only served to send her wheeling backward. Which resulted in being caught, once again, even more humiliatingly than before, by his very big, very strong, and very steadying hands.
“Thank you,” she managed through gritted teeth. She carefully removed one elbow from his grip, not chancing leaving his steadying powers all at once, and scraped her hair from her forehead and removed her fogged glasses from her face. Finally able to see, she looked up…only to be thrown completely off balance all over again. But, this time, her feet were totally flat and stable, on hard, steady ground. “You can let me go now,” she managed in a choked whisper.
He was just above average height, probably not even six feet, but given she topped the height chart at five-foot-six, and that was in three-inch heels, he was very tall to her. But it wasn’t the height part that commanded the attention. Nor was it really the square jaw, the thick neck, broad shoulders, very nicely muscled arms and chest that were obvious even through the old sweatshirt and T-shirt he wore. The thick, sun-bleached brown hair might have been a teensy part of it, but mostly it was the piercing blue eyes—truly, they pierced—staring at her from his weathered, deeply tanned face.
Crinkles fanned from the corners of those eyes, and there were grooves bracketing either side of his mouth, but she didn’t know if that was from squinting into the sun or smiling a lot. He wasn’t smiling now, so it was hard to tell. But he was still holding on to her, and it was that, plus those look-right-through-you eyes, that were keeping her from reclaiming the rest of her much-needed balance.
“I’m—fine. Really. Thank you. Again.”
He held her gaze for another seemingly endless moment, then gently let her go. “No worries.”
“I, uh, need to rent a car.” She was normally calm and cool under fire. It was why Todd had been so impressed and promoted her up the ranks of his campaign staff so quickly. It was also why she’d been one of the first ones the senator had hired to his permanent staff when he’d won his bid for office. If he could see her now, he wouldn’t even recognize her. She didn’t recognize her. Of course, the fact that she probably looked like a drowned cat didn’t help matters. “If you could just point me in the right direction—”
I will slink off and pretend we never met
.
“You don’t need a car.”
She looked up at him again, and though she’d never particularly thought of herself as vain, she’d have given large sums for the use of a comb, a tissue, and a handheld mirror. Okay, so a full salon makeover probably wouldn’t have hurt at that moment, but her pride wouldn’t have minded at least a brief attempt at restoration. “Where I’m headed is about two and a half hours from here, and though it’s probably not all that farfetched to think they probably rent horses here, I’m thinking the locals, not to mention the horse, will be a lot safer if I get a nice SUV instead.”
His lips quirked a little then, and her pulse actually did this zippy jumpy thing. And it felt kind of good—in a somewhat startling, disconcerting kind of way. However—reality check—she hadn’t forgotten that her appearance was highly unlikely to provoke the same reaction in him. Besides, she was not here on vacation. She was here on a very serious mission that had absolutely nothing to do with having a vacation fling of any kind. Not that she was the fling type. Or that men ever flung themselves at her, vacation or otherwise, for her to know. But, still.
“Given the weather, it would probably be as uncomfortable for the horse, but that’s not why I said you don’t need a ride. You don’t need one, because I’m your ride.”
God help her, she looked him up and down before she could stop herself.
He
was her ride? If only. She jerked her gaze back to his, thankful to find it just as unreadable as before. “I—I don’t know what you mean. Who would send—” She broke off abruptly. Her mother, that’s who. Her mother, who, as of six months ago, had turned into a complete and total stranger, running off with a man she’d barely met, moving her entire life across country to the middle of absolute nowhere, all because of some supposed fairy-tale romance Lauren suspected was anything but.
The mother she’d had six months ago would have never dreamed of interfering in her daughter’s personal life. Talk about it? Yes. Encourage her to get out and date more? Or at all? All the time. But actually fix her up? No. But her mother today? Lauren had no idea what she might do. Or what her motives might be. Whatever the case, Lauren wasn’t having any part of it. “Please tell my mother that I appreciate her concern, but that I’d be more comfortable with my own transportation. I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time, truly, I am. And if it’s a matter of getting paid, I’ll take care of the tab. But, your services won’t be needed.”
More’s the pity
. She tried really hard not to look him over. One last time.
His lips quirked again, as if they shared a private joke. And her pulse did that dippy, slow-down-speed-up thing. Which made no sense since she was pretty sure the joke was her.
“There’s no tab. I’m here as a favor.”
“Oh. Well…I really am sorry you went out of your way. Let me at least pay for your gas.”
His smile quirked again. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Okay, then. If you’re sure. Thank you again for your trouble.” She picked up her bags from the short row of airport chairs he’d dropped them into and slung them again over her arm. He was still standing there, staring. “Did you…need anything else?”
“Well, to be honest, I’d appreciate a ride back to Cedar Springs.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I’ll even drive, if you’d like to get some rest.”
She was confused. “I thought you were supposed to drive me back. Why do you need a lift in my car?”