by Sarah Morgan
“Tests?” That news drove all other thoughts from her head. “Is he worse?”
“The pain is worse. They were doing some more investigations. Playing with his medication.”
“So you took him over and stayed?”
“I wanted to hear what they said. I can’t rely on Philip to give me the whole story. He always pretends everything’s fine. A bit like you.”
She ignored that. “And?”
Zach lowered the cooler and the basket to the ground. “They’re going to try different treatment. Exercise is good, but getting tired isn’t. No way is he going to be able to be involved with the camp the way he has been. He has to scale it back.”
“That’s disappointing news and I’m guessing he’s taken it hard. So what happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
She saw the tension in his jaw and his shoulders and sensed his frustration. “Lucky he has you,” she said calmly. “That must help.”
“How the hell does it help?” His voice was raw. “I can’t fix his joints.”
“No, but you can be there for him when he needs it and that’s worth a lot. When life gets bumpy, sometimes the only thing that helps is knowing your friends and family are there to support you.”
Zach shot her a look. “I’m not his family. We’re not related.”
And yet you took time off to go with him to the hospital.
She wondered how, after all these years, he could possibly think that he wasn’t part of the Law family. She felt an ache in her chest because she knew, despite everything, he was still afraid to let anyone in. And then she thought about Zach’s real family, the one who had treated him so badly he’d been afraid to sleep at night. Maybe when you’d grown up with the bad, you didn’t ever dare trust the good not to disappear. “Celia and Philip think of you as a son. They’re there for you. They’ve had your back since that first day you arrived here. In fact I think you’d be surprised by how many people have your back.” Having planted that thought, she picked up the basket. “I hope you packed plenty of food, because I’m starving.”
Without looking back, she walked along the dock and took the path that curved towards a beach.
Did he really not believe his presence made a difference to Celia and Philip?
Why wasn’t he offering to help Philip with the camp given that he had the necessary skills?
The questions ran through her head until it was hard to keep them inside.
She forced herself to keep her mouth shut and instead studied the view.
Far in the distance she could see the mainland and Bar Harbor.
“This is incredible.” She sat down on a rock and anchored her hair with her hand. “So how did you meet the guy that owns this place? You said his name was Frederick something?”
Zach sat down next to her. “He was a friend of someone I worked for in Alaska. The guy owns a drilling company specializing in Alaskan oil-field construction. Divides his time between Alaska and Houston.” He opened the cooler and then the basket. “Help yourself.”
She looked down at the pretty green-and-white-spotted napkins and laughed. “No way did you put those there.”
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
Brittany reached into the basket and raised her eyebrows. “Heart-shaped chocolates?”
“Didn’t put those there, either.”
“So who packed the food?”
“It’s Ocean Club takeout.”
“I didn’t think the Ocean Club did takeout.”
“I called Ryan and pulled in a favor.” He handed her a plate and removed chicken from the cooler.
“Ryan packed heart-shaped chocolates? Doesn’t sound like him.”
“He was out sailing with Alec and Lizzy so he delegated to Kirsti.”
Brittany laughed. “Now I understand where the chocolate hearts came from.” She nibbled the chicken. “You do know Kirsti is the biggest matchmaker on the island? These chocolates are supposed to be a romantic gesture.”
“If I want to have sex with a woman, chocolate doesn’t play a part.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and her heart bumped a little harder.
“It could do. Chocolate would soften me up.” She scooped her hair back, fighting a losing battle with the breeze. “I know I look a mess. It’s your fault. You told me to grab a sweater for a flight around the bay. If I’d known we were having a fancy picnic I would have dressed up and done something with my hair.”
“You always look beautiful. Last thing at night, first thing in the morning, angry and happy.”
It was like missing a step. Her insides jumped and tumbled. “Well, that’s—” Her voice was husky. “Thank you. But I don’t look beautiful when I’ve been crying so hard my face looks like a strawberry.”
“Yes, you do.” His voice was rough. “But maybe you shouldn’t read any more of your grandmother’s diaries if they’re going to upset you.”
“I want to. I want to know everything there was to know about her. I always knew she was determined, but I never knew how much she struggled when she first came here. Now I understand why she encouraged me to work so hard. She wanted me to have options and she believed that studying gave you options. My mother hated it here and couldn’t wait to leave.”
“You don’t talk much about your mother. Are you in touch with her?”
“Occasionally. We email. We talk on the phone. But we’re not close. Never have been. I was closer to my grandmother. She raised me.” She stared out to sea. “The people who are your real family, the people who you can rely on one hundred percent, are not always your closest relations. But you already know that.”
His expression didn’t change. “What I know,” he said slowly, “is that the only person you can rely on one hundred percent is yourself.”
It felt as if someone was squeezing her heart. “Sure, if you’re in trouble, you deal with it yourself, but while you’re dealing with it, it’s nice to have the support of people who love you. It’s like crying. You can cry by yourself but it’s a whole lot better if someone hugs you while you do. I couldn’t imagine a life without my friends in it.”
He gave a half smile. “Why would you need to? You have a thousand friends.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Grams always said that a thousand friends prepared to party with you are worth less than one friend who is willing to stay and help you clear up after everyone else has left.”
There was a brief silence. “Then I guess you’re fine, because you have friends who would do that.”
“So do you.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Honey, there are at least a dozen people who would boot me off this island if they had their way.”
“Maybe ten years ago that was true, but not now. You need to take another look.” She wondered how he couldn’t know that so many people cared about him. Trying to lighten the mood, she made a joke. “Mel would love to be in a room with you when the lights go out.”
“I need to make a note not to be anywhere near Harbor Stores when the power is out.”
Brittany grinned and finished the chicken. “That was delicious. You do know that if it was packed by Kirsti, the rumor mill will be working overtime?”
“I do know. I also know I’m being closely watched.”
She helped herself to more chicken. “If you made me cry in public everyone would feel sorry for me and I’d be given free food. Might be worth thinking about.” She licked her fingers. “Tell me more about flying in Alaska. I don’t understand how you can fly in all that snow and ice.”
“Sometimes you can’t. If it was light ice, I flew. Severe ice, I didn’t. Pilots in Alaska spend a lot of time hanging around checking the weather. Most of the time it was something in between and then you try and get above or below it.”
She reached into the basket and took a chunk of the olive bread Kirsti had packed. “How does that help?”
“If you encounter ice, you need to climb. The higher you go the colder it gets, so there’s
less ice. You can always go back down. NASA has done research on icing and ninety percent of the time climbing or descending three thousand feet will get you out of ice. But it isn’t just the ice that’s a problem up there, it’s the wind, too.” He reached down into the sand and picked up a pebble, running his thumb over the smooth surface. “The weather is in charge, just as it is along this coastline.”
“So you either freeze or get blown out of the sky?”
He stared across to the mainland, hazy in the distance. “Worst flight I ever had was when I was taking a group to a remote village. It was a bumpy ride right from the start and as I flew over the lakes, I could see the wind shadow.”
“What’s wind shadow?”
“When you look down on the water you can see the ripples caused by the wind. Look at the shore and you’ll see a crescent where the water is calm—that’s the direction the wind is blowing. If you have white lines on the water, you don’t want to be flying. As landing strips go in Alaska, this was a good one. As I came in to land I dropped the wing into the wind—” he glanced at her “—it’s called cross controlling and it compensates for the crosswind—” he continued to talk and she listened, absorbed by the detail and his obvious love for the outdoors.
“So the wind sock was horizontal?”
“I came in sideways. It was like flying a crab. Landing like that can put a side load on the wheels and blow a tire, but luckily the runway was gravel so there was some give. If it had been a paved runway I would have been in trouble.” He drew his arm back and threw the pebble into the water. “I don’t know who was more relieved to be alive, me or the passengers.”
Finally she asked the question that had been burning inside her. “How did you come to own a plane?”
“It was a gift from the guy who owned the drilling company.” He hesitated. “I did him a favor.”
“Must have been some favor. What did you do?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he reached into the basket and helped himself to some of the bread. “I flew his little girl to the hospital.”
“You— Oh. What was wrong with her?”
He turned the bread over in his hands, not eating. “The guy had been away on a business trip for a week. Before he’d left he’d promised her he’d bring her a pair of skates so that they could skate on the lake together. Within an hour of him returning they were out on the ice. Dani fell and banged her head. Knocked herself out and cut herself.”
Dani. Not “his child” or “this kid”—Dani.
Another connection he’d made that somehow hadn’t registered on his radar.
“That’s terrible. I bet he blamed himself for giving her those skates.”
“He was beating himself up for a long time.”
“Still, people don’t usually hand out planes when they’re grateful. That’s a hell of a tip, Flynn, so why don’t you tell me the rest of the story? And no editing.” She finished the chicken and wiped her fingers. “It was minus-stupid figures, blowing a gale and no one else would fly, right?”
He broke off a chunk of bread and ate it. “Something like that.”
Exactly like that, she thought. “So you were a hero?”
“No. I made a judgment. If I hadn’t thought I could do it, I wouldn’t have offered.”
“So you didn’t just put the autopilot on and pray?”
“I don’t use the autopilot in icy conditions, it can mask cues. I prefer to hand-fly the plane.”
And she was willing to bet those hands were as good at controlling the plane as they were at everything else. “But Dani was okay?”
“She was in the hospital for a week, but she made a full recovery.”
“And her father gave you a plane.” She stretched out her legs and looked at him in awe. “Was there a catch? You had to always be on call or something?”
“No. I carried on flying him and his family while they were there. Then they moved back to Texas and I decided I was ready for a change.”
“So you set up a business, flying folk with deep pockets.” But what he did wasn’t all about the money, she knew that. He’d flown Brittany to her appointments. He’d flown Lizzy to the hospital when no one else would. “Emily thinks you’re a hero.”
“She’s biased. A sick child is a scary thing. They go downhill fast when they’re young. It was the same with Dani. You’re grateful to anyone who goes through that with you, even if it’s someone at the controls of a plane.” He rose to his feet, closing the subject down. “We should be getting back.”
“Praise makes you uncomfortable.”
“I haven’t had much practice at receiving it and I don’t see the need for praise when you’re just doing something that needs doing.” He closed the basket, reached out his hand and pulled Brittany to her feet.
“You’re not such a badass, Zachary Flynn. When it comes to the weak and the vulnerable, you’re a pushover.” On impulse, she rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek, feeling the roughness of his jaw against her lips. “Thanks.” She’d intended the kiss as a simple gesture of friendship, nothing more, but between the two of them there was always more. “Simple” had never played a part in their relationship.
His head was bent, his mouth dangerously close to hers. “What are you thanking me for?”
There was a tightening low in her pelvis, a dangerous ache that always seemed to be present when she was near him. “For giving me a hug when I was upset this morning. For bringing me here. I feel better.” Unsettled, she started to lower her heels to the ground but he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him. She rocked off balance, curving her fingers around the hard steel of his biceps to support herself.
His gaze, dark and shielded, was fixed on her mouth. “What do you think your grandmother would say if she knew you were with me now?”
The excitement was agonizing. It rushed through her like a rogue wave, threatening to swamp her. “I think—I know—she’d want me to be happy.”
There was a long, pulsing silence and then his gaze lifted from her mouth to her eyes. “And are you happy?”
“Yes.” Her heart was pounding and she curved her fingers into the unyielding bulk of muscle to support herself. They stood like that, their breath mingling, eyes locked, and then finally he slid his hand behind her head and drew her face to his.
“I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do this again.”
“Why?” Her heart was racing. “Why not?”
He didn’t answer. He simply lowered his head and took her mouth, kissing her with slow deliberation and erotic skill until she was relieved he was holding her because without the support of his arm she would have slid to the ground in a melted puddle. His kisses were intimate, searching, demanding and every bit as deep as if they were both already naked having sex.
And she wanted that.
She wanted it so badly she couldn’t think straight.
“Can we go home?” Drugged and dizzy, she eased her mouth away from his just enough to speak. “Can we—”
“Yes.” His voice was thick and he loosened his grip on her, keeping his arm around her until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Let’s go.”
Walking on legs the consistency of jelly, Brittany helped him gather up their belongings and carry them back to the plane.
It was the first time she’d taken off from water and she might have been a little anxious had there been room for anything in her head other than sexual awareness.
She heard the powerful sound of the engine and then they were moving across the water, gaining speed.
She watched Zach’s hands, hypnotized by the skilled, quiet movements of those fingers.
And then, in the few seconds before takeoff, a lobster boat emerged from the far side of the island.
Brittany wasn’t sure whether she screamed out loud or whether the sound was trapped in her head.
Zach yanked off the power and pulled back on the wheel, stopping the plane i
n a shower of sea spray.
Brittany closed her eyes. “Crap, that was—”
“Yeah, we almost ingested a few hundred crustaceans.” He waited a beat. “It would have been our first dinner date. You could have had lobster for supper. Right there in your lap, already diced. Let me know if you want fries or ketchup.”
She started to laugh, grateful for his cool and even more grateful for his skill. “Take me home, Zach.”
And he did.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AS PROMISED, two weeks later, Zach flew Brittany to the hospital to have the plaster removed and afterwards drove her home.
After weeks of being restricted it was wonderful to feel the air on her skin.
“I have exercises to do, and one more appointment in a few weeks to check everything looks good, but I’m free. Thanks for flying me. I’ll cook you dinner as a thank-you.”
“We’re going out.”
“We are?” Surprised, she looked at him questioningly and saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.
“I booked a table at The Galleon.”
Her heart did a little dance in her chest. Since the picnic on the beach they’d spent almost all their time together, although little of it had been in public. But although the sex was incredible, she sensed nothing had really changed for him. Even in bed he had an air of cool detachment, as if part of him was separate from all the things they did together. “Is this an actual date?”
The corners of his mouth flickered into a smile. “I thought after ten years, it was about time.”
“Right.” She tried desperately not to read anything into it but her mind was already throwing out questions. “If you buy me dinner, there will be gossip.”
“There’s always gossip.” Zach took the road that led down to Castaway Cottage. “At least we’ll give them something juicy to gossip about.”
Brittany smiled. “And at The Galleon we won’t have Kirsti telling us our fortunes and slipping a magic potion into our food. Ryan takes Emily to The Galleon when he wants a romantic evening.” The moment the words left her mouth she wanted to bite off her tongue. “Not that I’m saying—”
