he hadn’t stepped foot inside the building in the last six years.
Hadn’t needed to. Hadn’t wanted to.
Until this very moment.
His grip was so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles turned white. Pulling in a deep breath, he let go and put the Jeep in gear. Once he was on the street, he grabbed his cell phone and hit the button that connected him directly to Mac. Three rings later a buzzing noise filled his ear as Mac answered.
“Dev?”
Mac’s voice came through, but the reception was terrible. Dev released the pent-up breath with one whoosh. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you talk?”
“At...airport.”
Dev’s heart lurched. That was the last place he wanted to go. Okay, the second to last place.
“Heading...home...meet you there.”
Every other word of Mac’s was indecipherable, but Dev breathed a sigh of relief. “On my way.”
“Dev...need to...arrived yesterday.”
Circling the town square, Dev headed toward the sheriff’s office and the fire station. His gaze firmly on the road ahead, he didn’t allow even his peripheral vision to stray toward the open bays where a few of the firefighters were washing down the engine and the light-duty rescue truck.
“Mac, you’re breaking up. This connection sucks.” The tightness in Dev’s chest eased as he headed out of town. “You can tell me when you see me. I’ll be waiting on the front porch.”
Moments later, Dev drove past the entrance to his family’s ranch and the turnoff to his brother Adam’s place, and kept going until he saw the road to Mac’s farm. The land had been in his friend’s family for generations, much like the land the Murphy M7 Ranch sat on, but it hadn’t been a working farm for years.
Turning into the driveway, he started to slow to a stop near the two-story farmhouse, but noticed a car parked down near the metal hangar out back. When a storm had destroyed the unused barn almost a dozen years ago, Mac had it torn down and erected a steel structure that housed his baby, a 1929 Travel Air 4000 biplane.
Dev drove to the hangar, parking next to the plain brown sedan that sported Colorado plates. He frowned.
He and Mac had talked last week and his friend hadn’t mentioned having any visitors. Maybe he planned to finally retire that hunk of junk pickup he drove and had picked up a newer used car.
Then Dev noticed the single door to the hangar looked slightly ajar. He dropped his hat in the passenger seat, climbed out of his Jeep and walked as quickly as the ache in his leg would allow to check it out.
Yep, definitely open.
Slipping inside, Dev paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. He skirted the protruding wing of the vintage plane Mac had lovingly restored piece by piece. His hand gently glided over the smooth fuselage even as his stomach tightened into familiar knots.
Mac had allowed Dev to help with the restoration after he’d become his sponsor, and had taken him for his first flight the day Dev had celebrated twelve months of sobriety. He’d also been the one who got Dev interested in flying helicopters and was there the day he’d earned his pilot’s license.
Not that Dev ever planned to be in the air again.
Refusing to allow his thoughts to head in that direction, he kept walking, ignoring the pain, until he could’ve sworn he heard—
Wind chimes?
Yes, that’s exactly what it sounded like, along with music that should only be heard in an elevator.
Wondering if Mac had left the radio on—though his buddy was more a fan of classic rock and roll than this stuff—Dev stepped into the back area of the hangar where Mac kept an office on one side and an all-in-one exercise machine on the other.
The sight of a very shapely feminine backside perched in the air stopped him in his tracks.
Hel-lo!
Dev took in the position of the arms and legs that went with the sexy backside. The woman was twisted tighter than a pretzel. Then she slowly untangled herself to stand straight and tall. Still facing away from him, she showed off miles of toned muscles thanks to a skimpy tank top and leggings that hugged her curves in all the right places.
And was that a tattoo on her shoulder?
Not wanting to startle whoever she was, Dev cleared his throat. Nothing. Was the music too loud for her to hear him?
He tried again but all she did was gracefully move into another position that left her balancing on one leg, arms stretched high over her head. She tilted her head back, a ponytail of dark hair brushing between her shoulder blades.
Impressive. If he tried that, even when he’d had two good legs, he’d be flat on his butt in two seconds.
Figuring the intruder was harmless, Dev took a few more steps and then leaned back against Mac’s desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, he ignored the pain the move brought and decided to enjoy the show.
He let his gaze travel the length of her, surprised when he felt his body responding in a way it hadn’t in months.
Not that he’d spent much time with the opposite sex since the crash, but this stranger was intriguing him in ways the blonde barmaid hadn’t even come close to.
Who was she?
Mac had a daughter from a long-ago marriage. Still, this woman was too young. Dev guessed she was in her late twenties, a few years younger than him.
She couldn’t be a girlfriend, could she? The last he knew, the feisty Ursula, owner of the local beauty parlor his mother visited every week, was the current object of Mac’s affections.
Maybe she was another lost soul looking for redemption?
His buddy had helped many members of the local Alcoholics Anonymous chapter over the years, often letting those who needed a place to crash stay in the otherwise empty cabin.
But Mac always kept his assistance to the male species. It was just simpler that way.
Surprised that the idea of her possibly being off-limits bothered him, Dev tucked away his growing interest. Time to make his presence known once and for all.
Looking away from her bare feet, he cleared his throat one more time and said, “Miss, I don’t mean to scare you—”
She whirled around, and suddenly a barrage of foam bricks flew at him, pelting him on his shoulders, the last one bouncing off his chin, cutting off his words.
More surprised than hurt, he easily deflected the next two bricks aimed at his head. Jerking away from the desk, he cursed under his breath as the familiar fire ripped down his leg and he wobbled like a newborn.
“Hey! Knock it off!”
* * *
Tanya Reeves
