in my estimation,” the waiter allowed, grinning. He was young and good-looking and obviously didn’t have a problem waiting on Emily.
Max felt an urge to punch the kid.
“And for you, sir?”
“Lemonade. Lots of ice.”
The boy nodded. “I’ll get those right out to you.”
“Margaritas have no place in dinner meetings for you, I guess,” she commented after the waiter left.
“I don’t drink.”
Her lips parted. She hesitated. Then she shook her head a little. “I’m sorry. I’ve put my foot in it, again.”
He frowned and realized he’d sat forward, even though she’d leaned back in her chair. “What are you talking about?”
“I just thought maybe we could relax a little bit. I certainly don’t need to have a cocktail if you’re opposed to drinking for … whatever reason.”
“I don’t have a drinking problem,” he clarified bluntly. “Not since I quit. Is that what’s worrying you?”
Her head cocked. She slipped her glasses back on her nose. “I wasn’t worried. I just didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already seem.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.”
Emily eyed him, lifting an eyebrow. “Really? Smile much?”
For a beat, his handsome face looked surprised. Then his lips tilted. “Sorry. Better?”
She felt a definite dip inside her tummy at that crooked smile. “Much better.” Though her pride wasn’t too happy at the breathless way she sounded. She took a sip of her water, determined to follow the order of the evening. Which was business. “So, besides being tasked with the marketing materials, what else does Tanner have you doing around the school?”
Unfortunately, the question didn’t seem to relax him any. “Scheduling, billing, you name it. He handles all the stuff the FAA requires, but I’ve got the bulk of the rest of the paperwork.” He picked up his own water glass. “Lots of paperwork.”
“I can imagine. What’d you do before you started working for Tanner?”
“Worked as a ranch hand. Still do on the weekend if I’m not flying.”
If she hadn’t seen for herself his natural abilities inside the office, she would have figured that sort of outdoor work was much more his style. “What ranch?”
“The Double Crown.”
She sat back, surprised. “That’s Lily and William’s place.”
He nodded. “You’re related, right?”
“Distantly.” She smiled briefly at the waiter when he set their drinks on the table. “Thanks.” She touched the menu that she’d barely glanced at. “Can we have a few more minutes?”
The waiter nodded and disappeared again.
A waitress passed by carrying a heavy tray of food. Emily couldn’t help noticing the way the girl’s eyes fixed longingly on Max. She couldn’t blame her. Emily was having a difficult time not just sitting back to admire the view, herself. He was tall—easily six feet, she’d guess—and his short brown hair was a little shaggy, but thick and glossy-looking all the same. He had an extremely masculine appearance—not fussy at all, but all the more attractive as a result. And his eyes—his eyes were as pale blue as the Red Rock summer sky.
“All the Fortunes here are cousins something-something removed,” she said, hastily returning to the conversation at hand before he realized she was ogling. “But getting to know them all better has been really nice. So, you must like horses and cattle and all that?”
He shrugged. “As long as they’re getting what they need, they don’t care who is feeding and watering. Or shoveling.” His long, blunt fingers surrounded his sweating lemonade glass.
Her gaze slid from his fingers, up along his sinewy wrist. She swallowed and quickly reached for her margarita, looking away for a quick moment toward the glistening water flowing down the tiered fountain situated in the center of the courtyard to gather herself. “Too bad more people aren’t like that.”
His eyebrows pulled together for a quick second, as if she’d surprised him by the comment. But all he did was unfold his menu and look down at it.
She sipped her drink, feeling the warmth of the tequila hit her throat. She shouldn’t have ordered the drink. As he’d said, this was a business dinner. Add in the fact that she hadn’t eaten since that morning …
She set the heavy margarita glass down and stared at her own menu. But she didn’t really see the words. She was fairly certain that there’d been a board listing the chef’s specials at the front of the restaurant which would make choosing easy, since she couldn’t manage to concentrate on anything other than Max.
She closed her menu decisively. “Tell me a little more about how you got your pilot’s license. Are you able to fly often on the weekends? Where do you go? What do you do?” She couldn’t imagine when he had the time, considering he was holding down two jobs.
“I don’t necessarily have places in mind to go. It’s the flying itself that grabs me. And technically, it’s not called a license but a certificate,” he said, closing his own menu. “Right now I’m working on my instrument rating. I put a lot of time in on the simulator. Sunday afternoons roll around and I’m either in the sim room or up in the air.”
She shook her head slightly. “Frankly, I find it a little alarming that pilots learn how to fly sitting in front of a fancy computer.”
His expression lightened. She’d noticed that happened whenever he talked about flying. “We have to put in that air time, as well. Only some of our hours can come from the sim. The sim’s not only less expensive—no aircraft, no fuel—but sometimes it’s easier to get the time on it. Because … no aircraft. Tanner’s students are all jockeying for time in the planes. Scheduling is a bi—well, it’s a real task. Sometimes you gotta settle for what you can get.”
“I hadn’t even thought about the fuel.” She barely registered that she’d sat forward again, propping her chin on her hand. “Is it the same kind of gas we use in our cars?” She dipped her finger over the coarse salt lining her margarita glass and sucked it off her finger.
His gaze flicked away from her lips. He shook his head. “Avgas. Aviation gas and nowhere near as cheap.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess that proves everything is relative. I think the price of filling my car’s gas tank is ridiculous.”
“Wouldn’t think that would bother you.”
She felt a little pause. “Because I’m a Fortune, you mean?”
He held up his lemonade glass, tilting it a little toward her as if to say “bingo.”
“Just because my family has money doesn’t mean I’m unaware, or uncaring, about the cost
