Fortune's Hero. Susan Crosby
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in the view, letting her adjust to seeing the place where she’d almost been buried alive. Seeing the airport rebuilt should help her rebuild her own life.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, keeping his voice soft and low, treating her the same as any wounded animal who’d landed on his property.
She nodded. He admired her for that, for not making him coax her, for facing her demons. He came around the truck as she dropped onto the ground, then he walked toward the terminal. She caught up with him in a couple of seconds and gripped his hand, keeping up with him.
“The airport’s back to being used all the time,” he said. “They’re close to finishing the rebuilding.”
“How many people died?” she asked.
“Three.” He eyed her. “Could’ve been a whole lot worse.”
“What were you doing here?”
“Picking up a shipment that’d been airfreighted to me.” He opened the glass door to the terminal and took her inside with him. She squeezed his hand tighter, if that was even possible. “Clear skies, Victoria. Don’t worry.”
“Hey, Garrett!”
“Boyd,” Garrett said, acknowledging the jack-of-all-trades airport worker he’d known since grade school.
“Need somethin’?”
“I’m showing off the construction.”
Boyd waved a hand then walked away.
“It’s just a building,” Garrett said, feeling her start to shake.
“It was almost my tomb.”
His, too, but he didn’t remind her of that. He’d been able to tuck it away in his memories.
It was dark by the time they’d walked the entire place. She never let go of his hand, and he had to admit it was kinda nice holding it. Every now and then he noticed the sparkle of her nail polish, felt the softness of her skin against his rough hand and how small it was compared to his—all indicators of how different they were.
She was just as quiet on the drive back to his ranch. He hadn’t expected a miraculous recovery for her, but he’d thought maybe she would chat him up a bit. She petted Pete and Abel after she climbed out of his truck, crooning to them. Garrett wouldn’t admit to being jealous, but he felt … something.
“You still want that whiskey?” he asked.
She looked up at him. Her smile was calmer than when she’d first arrived. “Rain check?”
He didn’t answer because he didn’t expect to see her again. He walked her to her car, opened her door and waited for her to get inside and go. He was in a hurry for her to leave him in peace. He’d thought he’d buried his own memories, but being at the airport with her had brought them back in full. He could toss six feet of dirt over them again, but he needed quiet to do that. And for Ms. Victoria Fortune to be out of his sight.
“Thank you,” she said, a little quaver to her voice.
Aw, hell. She wasn’t gonna cry, was she? That he couldn’t deal with at all. “You drive safe now.”
She was staring at him, at his chest anyway. “You were wearing a bolo tie that day,” she said. “Silver and onyx. It was gorgeous.”
What he remembered was how she’d grabbed his tie and pulled him down to kiss him. He also remembered her perfume, sweet and spicy. She didn’t wear any today, and he liked that, too.
Finally she raised her gaze to connect with his, searching his eyes.
“Thank you for taking me there.” Then, surprising him, she reached up, locked her arms behind his neck and tugged him down as she raised up on tiptoe. He could’ve easily set her aside. Instead, he met her halfway and accepted her final gesture of appreciation. Her lips were soft, her mouth hot. When she tightened her hold on him, he did the same, pulling her body next to his, wrapping his arms around her, sliding his hands down to cup her rear.
Then Abel jumped up on him from behind and her cell phone rang at the same time, a double jolt of awareness to the situation they’d been about to put themselves in.
“I’d better answer that,” she said, stepping back to dig into her pocket, her hands shaking. “Someone’s probably worried.”
He backed off as she took the call, telling the person on the other end that she was on her way home. Then she tucked her phone away. He had no idea what to say, so he left it to her because his next move would be to haul her to bed.
“I should go,” she said. She climbed into her car and started the engine. Her smile turned mischievous, the dull glaze in her eyes replaced with more clarity. “I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t a good kisser,” she said pertly, then she gave him an indecipherable look through the windshield as she backed up to turn around. She waved as she drove off.
His body was like granite. He hadn’t been this on edge for a long time. He was usually the one with the last word, too. She’d caught him off guard. That was also rare.
Maybe he’d helped her with her post-tornado trauma, but she’d given him something to dream about.
It was the last thing he wanted.
Red Rock’s most upscale restaurant, Red, was situated in the heart of downtown. Wendy’s husband, Marcos Mendoza, managed the restaurant that was owned by his aunt and uncle. It was where Marcos and Wendy had met. She’d been exiled, as she referred to it, from the family business in Atlanta and sent to Red Rock to work for one of the Fortune businesses to discover her talent. She eventually ended up at Red, first as a waitress, then finding her calling as a dessert chef.
The original building was a converted, very old hacienda rumored to have belonged to relatives of the infamous General Santa Anna. It had been rebuilt after a fire but still featured an inside courtyard with a water fountain and several dining areas, both public and private.
Stepping into the main dining room, Victoria admired the rich, colorful decor and peaceful aura. Wendy had urged her and Emily to get out of the house for a while, and Marcos had insisted they have a spectacular dessert on him at Red. They’d argued it was unnecessary, but Wendy had prevailed. She couldn’t take MaryAnne out in public for at least two more weeks, according to the pediatrician. She would go to bed when the baby did, and she wanted Emily and Victoria to have some fun.
They sat at the bar, where they had a good view of the restaurant that was a little too understated to be called a “fun” spot. It was a place to gather or go on a date, but not a mix-and-mingle hot spot, nor was there a dance floor in the main room.
“So,” Emily said after taking a taste of a creamy dessert called Heavenly Sin and licking her spoon clean. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back from seeing Garrett Stone.”
Victoria took a bite of a black-and-white pudding that melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring it before she spoke. “There’s not much to say. I thanked him. He decided I needed to see the airport and took me there, as some kind of therapy, I expect.”
“Was he right? Did it help?”
“I suppose I’ll find out tonight. If the dream doesn’t return, I’ll call it a success.”
“And was the cowboy rough around the edges or gorgeous?”
“Both.”
Emily’s brows went up. “Do tell.”
“He’s different” was all she said.
He came across as a man who didn’t rile easily, was in fact paternal and protective, but he also simmered with passion. He just kept a tight rein on it. She could tell when he’d been restraining himself.
That kind of self-control, Victoria thought, was even sexier. And it made her want to break through it.
She