and spilled all over Stone’s brown cargo pants.
“Here, let me help you.” Emily grabbed napkins, and the barista threw over a dishrag.
Emily blotted for a minute before she realized how close she was getting to his crotch. She turned in desperation to Rachel, only to see her doubled up in laughter, wiping her eyes.
Stone shook his head, scowling. “You’re dangerous, girl.”
Oh, epic fail. As if she was Cinderella at the crack of midnight, Emily turned, grabbed her purse from the booth and ran out of the café. She could barely hear the sound of Rachel behind her, calling out Emily’s name.
Maybe if she was lucky, really blessed, Emily would turn into a pumpkin.
She reached her truck and climbed in, ready to peal rubber out of the parking lot. Ask a man out? When will I listen to that inner little voice? A klutz should never ask a guy out in the vicinity of any kind of liquid.
Rachel banged on the passenger-side window, so Emily unlocked the door.
“Are you happy now?”
Rachel opened the door and let herself inside. “I’m sorry I laughed. That wasn’t fair. But, hey, you did it.”
“I made a fool out of myself.”
“Who cares? I’ve never known you to even approach a stranger, and there you were, doing it. So what if coffee and gravity won? I do think he would have said yes, had you not run out on him.”
Emily hit the steering wheel with her head. She’d run out on Stone. Again. No point in telling Rachel this was round two. “I did run out on him.”
“I don’t blame you,” Rachel continued. “With a man like that, you want to put your best foot forward. Maybe you should go back in there and try again.”
“No way, Rachel. I’m done listening to your bright ideas.”
Rachel elbowed Emily. “You know what? You’ve proved it. You’re a wild woman. Why don’t you do something really wild, like get your pilot’s license?”
“Are you nuts?”
“Why not? Your namesake did, so there’s some connection to the past there. It has nothing to do with men, right? And if you want to do something different, step outside your comfort zone. Does it get any more different for you than that?”
As a matter of fact, it didn’t. She’d always had her feet planted firmly on the ground, both literally and figuratively. But flying lessons? Emily thought about it while she peeled out of the parking lot. “It would make a nice human interest story for the alumni newsletter.”
“You bet it would.”
Pilot’s license. Crazy, yes, but wasn’t she courting crazy? “I’ll think about it.”
* * *
“ARE YOU OKAY?” The barista handed him another coffee, a sheepish look on her face. “This one’s on the house.”
His first visit to the establishment and he’d been bathed in the stuff. Damn Matt for getting him hooked on the coffee here. “Yeah. Thanks.” Now he’d have to turn around and go back home to change, and he could look forward to another encounter with Winston when he did.
“Emily’s always been a klutz. But I will say, I’ve never seen her ask a guy out before. This is one for the books,” the girl said as she came around to mop the floor.
And what the hell had that been about? Emily’s eyes had widened in shock when he’d turned to see who had asked him out in a voice that sounded like that of a phone sex operator. Hadn’t she told him she was not in the habit of going out with strangers? And why the hell was she constantly running out on him? He still hadn’t heard “sorry” come out of her mouth, but at least this time, the apology had been written all over her face.
“I’m guessing she comes in here a lot,” Stone said, dumping the napkins in the trash can.
“Emily? You could say that. Her family owns Fortune Ranch, if you’re interested in following up on that date request.”
A tempting thought, admittedly, but maybe best to stay away from the girl. First his jaw, then hot coffee spilled inches from his crotch. He couldn’t afford to lose a limb at this point. “Fortune Ranch?”
“It’s not a cattle ranch anymore. Mostly where we have the high school’s Sadie Hawkins dance, picnics and big company parties. She’s going to add weddings now.”
He looked out the storefront and saw Emily hit her head on the steering wheel of her truck. He recognized the woman who had run after her, since she’d come in a couple of weeks ago to talk to them about newspaper advertising.
Stone headed back to his truck, brand-new cup of fresh coffee in his hand. With no traffic, he was back home within minutes.
After wrestling Winston down again, changing and driving to the airport, by ten Monday morning Stone was back at the flight school. No one here to bother him but the planes. That he could handle.
Finally, a few moments of relative silence. Not common at airports, but there was a lull between landings and takeoffs at San Martin Airport in the afternoons. The airport and its strip were small and located out in the middle of the empty field, formerly zoned for agricultural use alone.
Stone stared out the window at the two Cessna planes, Magnum Flying School printed on the side of one of the planes. Dad’s dream had lasted a good ten years, but it threatened to fizzle out with Stone at the helm. He’d never claimed to be a damned businessman. He knew how to fly a plane. Happened to love flying a plane. Teaching and running a small business was another story.
He shut the window because he smelled shit again, or as his office manager, Cassie, explained, the fertilizer for the mushrooms. It was a fact of life here in Fortune, home of the mushroom, but only mattered depending on which way the wind blew. There were days when the wind shifted and Stone wanted to pack his bags. But then he’d see his father’s photo and be reminded he’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it.
Cassie stuck her head in the door. “Got a minute, boss?”
“Told you not to call me that.”
Cassie Helms was sixtysomething, and nearing retirement. By way of introduction a year ago, she’d told him exactly how old she was and announced she and her husband had a pleasant-sized nest egg and planned to retire to Mexico. In case he got any bright ideas about making any significant changes, he assumed. They’d already bought the hacienda, which made Stone wonder whether perhaps he paid Cassie too much. More than likely, the previous owner had, for many years. Come to think of it, that sounded just like Dad.
Then again, Dad hadn’t been any more of a businessman than Stone. Not when his biggest concern had been that both Cassie and Jedd keep their jobs.
Cassie walked in with a glazed donut, which she placed on his desk. This meant she had semi-bad news, since she often liked to present her news with food offerings. Candy meant good news, donuts semi-bad news. Stone expected in a few weeks he’d find a cake on his desk.
“What is it now?”
