Hold Me. Сьюзен Мэллери
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way. How long is Miles around?”
“Two months,” Kipling told him. “The mapping should be done by mid to late July.”
“Enough time to see if there’s interest,” Aidan said. “Because if we move forward with a helicopter, that’s a big investment.”
“I could get my helicopter license.” Finn sounded excited by the prospect. “It would have to make business sense, but that would be a fun challenge.”
Aidan chuckled. “Any excuse to fly.” His expression turned thoughtful. “You know, we could talk to Mayor Marsha about the city going in on the helicopter with us. You and I could buy it, and then the city could contract with us when there was an emergency.”
“I can talk to Destiny about how a helicopter fits in with the STORMS project,” Kipling offered.
“This is good,” Aidan said.
“I agree,” Finn added. “We should have thought of this ourselves. We’ll be in touch with Miles and see if he wants some extra work while he’s in town.”
“Happy to help,” Kipling told them. “I hope it works out.” Because he enjoyed solving a problem when he encountered one.
When the meeting finished, he walked toward his Jeep. The mountains seemed closer today, which wasn’t possible. But he felt them all the same. Looming. Insistent. Taunting.
He hurt. The places where the bones had shattered were the worst. Most of his joints knew when it was going to rain two days before the local weather guy. He reminded himself he’d survived. That he was walking, and the odds had been against him ever getting out of a wheelchair. He should be grateful.
When he reached the Jeep, he glanced up at the mountains and imagined them covered in snow. If there was snow, he could take them, he thought grimly. Or he had been able to. Once. Just not anymore.
* * *
“THEY’RE INTENSE,” KIPLING SAID.
Destiny watched the two tech guys work on the computers. They wore headphones and typed intently. She would guess they had no idea there were other people in the room.
“They’re the best,” she told him. “They’ll get everything up and running, work out the bugs and disappear into the night. When we’re near the end of the training, they’ll come back and put in all the customization we’ve figured out you’re going to need for your program. Then we test it, and you’re good to go.”
They headed outside. The day was warm and sunny. To the side of the office was a small garden with a few tables and benches. A good place for volunteers to collect, Destiny thought. And for them to get updates and rest before heading back out on a call.
Other arrangements would have to be made for the winter, she thought. Maybe they could meet at the nearby fire station. Not that it was her problem to solve, she reminded herself. When she was finished with her job, she would move on. No matter how much she enjoyed a particular location, she never came back.
They sat across from each other at one of the tables.
“I talked to Miles this morning,” Destiny said. “He told me you’ve found him some part-time work.”
Kipling shrugged. “He said he got bored. I knew a couple of guys who might want to expand their business using a helicopter. It seemed like a win-win.”
“Shelby said you liked to fix things. I can see what she meant.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It’s just an interesting trait. Is there a psychological reason, or were you born that way?”
He chuckled. “Which do you think?”
“I don’t know. I think how we’re raised has a big impact on how we act later in life.” She’d learned a lot of lessons watching her parents. Of course those lessons had mostly been about things she needed to avoid. But there had been positive lessons, too.
“I agree with you on that,” he said, then hesitated. “What Miles said about your parents. You weren’t happy.”
She resisted the urge to duck her head and bolt. “No. I don’t tell a lot of people. They ask questions that I don’t want to answer.”
“Or assume things that aren’t true.”
“How did you know?”
“Let’s just say I’m not a famous country singer, but I’ve been in the limelight before. It’s not all positive attention.”
“Of course. You’re that hot skier guy.”
One eyebrow rose. “You think I’m hot?”
Heat instantly burned on her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I was speaking in generalities, not specifics.”
“So you don’t think I’m hot.”
He was teasing her. Flirting maybe. She almost never got to that point with any guy, so she wasn’t sure what to do. Destiny suddenly realized that her plan to find someone sensible and ignore everyone else had a giant flaw. She was twenty-eight years old, and she didn’t really know how to deal with a man outside of a work setting.
Miles was easy. She thought of him as a brother. The tech guys and her boss were colleagues. People she met as she went from town to town were kept at a careful distance. No one got close, which kept her safe, but what happened when she found the one? How was she supposed to get close to him?
“It wasn’t supposed to be that hard a question,” Kipling told her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“You know you’re very good-looking. You don’t need more compliments from me.”
“More implies there have been some. So far, you’re a disappointment in the compliment department. I was hoping for more.”
“Handsome is as handsome does.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s something my Grandma Nell used to say. But it sounds wise.”
“Or confusing. Is the flip side of that ‘ugly is as ugly does’?”
“I have no idea.”
“So who’s Grandma Nell?”
Destiny felt herself relaxing as she remembered the other woman. “My maternal grandmother. She lived in the Smoky Mountains all her life. She was wonderful. Loving and smart and an emotional rock for me, if a bit flirty when it came to men. No matter what happened, I could count on her.”
Destiny smiled as memories flooded her. “My parents were young when they had me. My mom was still eighteen, and my dad was only a few months older. Apparently, four weeks after I was born, they went off on tour and left me with her. I spent the first couple of years of my life with her. I don’t really remember. Then I was with my parents for a while and other family members. My early years weren’t exactly stable.”
“Was that hard?”
“Sometimes. I would go on tour and have a nanny. The guys in the band always looked out for me.”
Kipling studied her. “Didn’t you have a hit record when you were maybe seven or eight? I would swear I remember that.”
Destiny felt the second blush of the day on her cheeks. “Yes,” she said with a groan. “‘Under the Willow Tree.’ I was eight, and the song did very well.”
She’d been nominated for a Grammy, which should have been a terrific experience, only that very morning her father had told her that he and her mother were divorcing for the second time. She’d been devastated, and it had taken all she had not to sob when walking the red carpet.
The reporters had wanted to talk to her. To ask about what it was like to be so young and so talented. She’d