“I’m sure everyone loves to have you visit.”
He sipped his coffee. “My dad has a lot of health issues, so when I come home, I try to do a lot of inside and outside repair on their home and around the property. It’s pretty much the same in Ireland. I’m young, big and strong.”
She smiled softly. “Well, you’re a greatly loved son, and I’m sure your dad is grateful for your help.”
“It’s an act of love as far as I’m concerned.”
“You’re right, it is.”
“What about you, Andy? Did you come home on leave when you were in the military?”
“Sure did,” and she planted an index finger into the cushion. “I don’t think I put ‘wrangler’ on my résumé when I applied for a job with you. My dad took the four of us, as soon as we could throw a leg over a saddle, around with him and his wranglers, keeping this ranch going. I think I was three when I sat on my first horse. I loved it. I loved the old mare’s mane and how soft and sleek her shoulder was.”
“You’re a cowgirl.” And he grinned lopsidedly. “It’s a shame you didn’t note that on your résumé. I think that’s a good addition.” His smile dissolved and he frowned. “When we were running for our lives out there?”
“Yes?”
“I never got to tell you how courageous, strong and tough you were. When I realized you were a woman and not a male pilot, I thought we were screwed.” He gave her a look of apology. “I thought you were going to slow us down and that you wouldn’t have the stamina that run was going to require of both of us.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Fooled you, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” He held up his hand. “Honest to God, you surprised the living daylights out of me, Andy. But now that I realize you were a wrangler, I’m sure your background played a key part in your keeping up the pace with me.”
“Sure did.”
“You never once slowed us down. You were a trooper. I was so damned worried we’d get caught. I knew how good Taliban soldiers are at tracking. I was scared. But at the same time, I was grateful that you were tough, strong and your head was in the game. You never wavered, never gave up and kept up even though you must have been whipped.”
“Oh, every day was like that for me, Dev. But I trusted you because you told me about your time in the Sandbox and that you were flying black ops, so you really knew the lay of the land. It was easy to follow you. I felt so lucky in that way, and you did not disappoint me either.” She laughed a little. “I was afraid I was going to disappoint you on that run.”
“You never did.” He rubbed his chin, studying her. “Tell me if I’ve gone a step too far with you. I didn’t know you were adopted. We had no time to talk about our lives. If I’d known that, plus from childhood until eighteen you’d been a wrangler, it would have explained to me why you were so resilient out there in the bush. You didn’t act like some of the women behind the wire at the firebase where I was assigned.”
“I was a combat pilot, Dev. I’m not like most other women.”
“I realize that. Honestly? My assignment was with men only in my squadron. The women at the firebase were civilian workers.”
Nodding, she murmured, “Understood. Pilots are a different and separate breed.”
“You mean you don’t put all men into the Neanderthal category? That pilots are in another one?”
Giving him an evil look, she said, “Male pilots were more Neanderthal than the normal guys were at my air base.”
“But you don’t see me that way?” he challenged.
“You’re the first pilot I’ve met who wasn’t arrogant, thought he was God’s gift to women and was utterly self-absorbed. So far, I don’t see any of those traits in you. Maybe it was the parents you grew up with, great role models where you saw your mother being treated as an equal, so you saw other women in the same way.”
He drew in a deep breath, old pain stirring in his chest. “My mother is all of those things.”
“I thought so.” She wiped her brow, giving him a silly look. “Phew! I know it’s probably off-limits, but I was hoping to hear about my two helo girlfriends who were applying for jobs here. Did either of them make the cut?”
“Pete’s close to making a decision. As soon as I hear, I’ll let you know. I approved both of them, but he’s the boss.”
“Understood,” she said. “It would be nice, because we worked well together.”
“In Pete’s world, that’s worth considering. Be patient, eh?”
Snorting, Andy muttered, “You know I’m not that patient sometimes. I was headstrong occasionally on that run for our lives.”
“Yeah, you were, but in the end, you were right, too. If they’re both like you, I can’t see why Pete wouldn’t hire them.” He crossed his fingers and saw her glow with hope. There were no filters on Andy or him. What you saw was what you got. Just like Sophie was. His heart twinged, the past rising up once more. If only . . .
June 25
Tuesday
Dev heard the screech of women’s voices outside his office. Grinning, he knew what it was about. On Monday, Pete had informed him that Grace Cameron and Alma Lopez had been hired. He decided to call the two ladies and ask them to come in at eleven a.m. to see Andy, who knew nothing about it—yet. The shrieks, the laughter and joking floating down the hall told him the three women were having a good time in Andy’s office. He’d told Jackie earlier, on the phone, to take the three of them for a long lunch and come back at one p.m. to fill out all the mandatory paperwork.
He’d ask Andy to squire them around the women’s sleeping and locker quarters in their part of the terminal. It did his heart good to hear the raucous laughter of the pilots. He understood that tight, military, hivelike community forged by pilots in general, no matter what their gender. His mouth continued to curve upward as he worked on a shitload of paperwork involving the two crew chiefs who had been hired, as well as the last pilot to come on board, Tucker Johnson. His afternoon was filled with getting the three men through the paper chase, the sleeping and locker quarters arrangement. Yes, it was a busy day, but not stressful. It was good to see the crews who would be saving lives in the valley finally coming together.
“Dev!”
He looked up, seeing Andy smiling broadly, her cheeks a bright red. “Yeah? Did you like your surprise?” His heart opened as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. She was in the dark-blue, one-piece flight suit they were all wearing. Her expression was one of gratitude.
“You didn’t have to do this. Grace just told me that you’re paying for our lunch.”
“Hey, some things should be celebrated, don’t you think? Getting to see pilot buddies once again? And that you’ll all be working together again? Just like old military times.”
“Well,” she said, her voice soft with feeling, “you didn’t have to buy all of us lunch.”
“Pete was in on it, too.”
“And I bet you’re the one who thought of it and engineered it,” she insisted, shaking her head, giving him a smile of pure thanks.
Heat flooded his chest. It was startling to him. The errant thought that he’d been alone too long, without a woman to share his life. Andy was perfect for him.
It was true he hadn’t known her long, but hell, he knew her. She was the one for him. Andy standing here, her hands on her hips, grinning at him, her gray eyes like shining diamonds connecting with his gaze, suffused him with wonderment. Clearing his throat, he said a bit gruffly, “Hey, take off with your friends, okay? I’ve got a ton of work here to get ready for two just-hired crew chiefs and our fourth pilot.”
“Oh,” Andy gasped, surprised, “then we’re a whole unit! We’re mission ready!”
“Not yet,” he counseled her, pulling over another filled-out form. “It’s going to take us a good month to get up to speed, to get that seamless teamwork thing going.”
She laughed and turned, opening the door. “I think it will come together faster than that. Military people are eas
y to train. They’re used to the demands of the organization. Can I bring anything back from Kassie’s Café for you?”
Her thoughtfulness struck him deeply. “No, I bought a sack lunch from home. Thanks, though. Go have some fun and catch up with one another’s lives, eh?”
Lifting her hand, she murmured, “I owe you, Dev.”
“Nah. Get outta here, Whitcomb.”
Laughing, she wagged her finger at him. “I’ll let you get away with it this time. This one time.”
He leaned back in his chair, liking her baiting. “Am I supposed to be shivering in my boots?”
She held the door open and stepped out. “I’ll get even. That’s all I’ll say. Ciao.”
“Ciao, bella.”
Her brow raised. “So? You know some Italian?”
“Just enough to get myself in trouble.”
The door closed and Dev heard her walk down the hallway toward her office, making him go hot with longing. Andy Whitcomb didn’t take any prisoners. That was the combat pilot coming out in her. That titanium confidence earned in the heat of facing the enemy twenty feet off the ground, bullets flying all around her. Damn, but she was the whole package, at least for him. Sophie had been a confident young woman, too, and it had beckoned to him then, as well. He had always been drawn to strong women.
Sighing, he wished he could let the paperwork go, but he couldn’t. Bringing in the last three employees was important. He, like Pete, wanted this chaotic part of a startup business over and done with. He longed for the quieter times when, like the military, the routines would work like a good timepiece, faithfully and with no bumps in the road causing issues.
Still, as he focused on Tucker Johnson’s papers in front of him, Dev wished he could go with the ladies. He was very sure they would have a high old time with one another.
* * *
“I can’t believe this,” Grace Cameron whispered as they sat in a booth at Kassie’s Café. “The three of us together! Again!” She swept her shoulder-length, wheat-colored hair away from her red tee, giving Andy and Alma, who sat together on the other side of the table from her, an evil look of pure glee.
A waitress came over, giving them iced water and menus, taking their drink orders before leaving.
“I feel like I’m in a never-ending dream,” Alma confessed. She moved her single shining black braid, long enough to hang halfway down her back, across her shoulder. “Don’t you, Andy?”
“It’s a little different for me,” and she explained her life for the last year in about ten sentences to her girlfriends.
“I remember getting an email from you about that,” Alma said, shaking her head. “I don’t blame you for taking a quiet, backwater job compared to LA law enforcement. That is brutal work.”
Grace cocked her head and studied Andy. “I think the call of home brought you here after that?”
Andy nodded and closed the menu. “Right, as always. You’re half shrink, Grace, I swear you are.”
Tittering, Grace moved her long, spare hands, palm down across her Levi-clad thighs. “I’m just a highly clairvoyant mystic who rides the invisible wings of air currents,” she teased them.
Alma laughed heartily. “My mother is a curandera, and she comes from a line of mystic women.”
“That’s okay,” Andy reassured the pilot, who had gorgeous gold-brown eyes, “you were a medevac pilot and put that magic to work saving lives.”
Grace nodded, folding her hands on the table. “It’s nice to be back together again. This time we’re in the same squadron, so to speak.”
“But no one is shooting at us,” Alma joked.
“That’s one of the reasons I came home,” Andy admitted. “Not the first one, but a close second. I’ve had enough war to last me a lifetime.”
“Haven’t we all?” Grace said with a grimace.
The waitress returned and they gave their orders.
Andy rolled her eyes at her American-Canadian, blond-haired friend. “Flying DAPs meant you were flying Black Hawks with heavy weapons. You were the war!”
All three women laughed and grinned at one another.
“Well,” Grace said drily, pointing a long finger in Andy’s direction, “you were a Warthog pilot. If anyone was in the center of battle, it was you.”
“We aren’t exactly wilting lilies,” Alma agreed, growing somber. “I’m hoping this job will last me a long, long time. I’ve never been to Wyoming before and I’m a little bit concerned about the eight months of winter.”
“Yeah, I would be, too, if I had tropical blood in my body,” Andy teased, hooting.
Alma gave her a good-natured dig with her elbow. “You were born and raised here. You know how cold it gets.”
“Freeze-your-ass-off cold,” Andy promised, barely able to stop grinning.
“When I was growing up in Toronto, my American mother was always wanting to go back to the US.”
“Yeah,” Andy said, “but she was born in La Jolla, California. That’s desert-rat blood.”
“My father could never figure out why she’d want to leave our six months of snow and ice,” Grace said, chuckling.
“So, this winter stuff isn’t gonna bother you, Grace?” Alma asked.
“Not in the least. I think my Canadian father’s snow genes are in my blood.”
“I’m pretty much like you, Grace. Our parents made fun of our eight months of winter. I’m sure you and I will be skiing in Jackson Hole come winter. They’ve got great ski conditions.”
Alma wrinkled her nose. “I’ll need to adjust.”
“Just put a sun lamp in your living room,” Grace deadpanned, barely able to keep a straight face.
“No mercy from you two, I can see,” Alma grumped, her full lips edging upward.
“Nada,” Andy said, “you just have to remember how bad it was in the Sandbox and then a Wyoming winter won’t look so dismal.”
“Tell me,” Alma said, “are there any other good-looking guys like Dev around? Is this a hot spot for hunks or what?”
“I hope so!” Grace said. “And you’re right, our boss is to drool over.”
“He’s a nice guy,” Andy told them, becoming serious. “Very sensitive, and he’s one of the very few men, aside from my father, who can be vulnerable around a woman. He doesn’t play tough guy, thank goodness.”
Wrinkling her nose, Grace muttered, “I’m so sick of Neanderthals that I could barf.”
Groaning, Alma said, “I’ve had my fill, too.”
“So, the three of us are single? No guys in our lives?” Andy pried. She saw the waitress coming with their orders. They had, to a woman, ordered hamburgers, French fries and a chocolate milkshake.
Grace muttered, “I’d rather be single than hitch up with one of those last-century jerks. I’m over them, but they aren’t over themselves.”
“What we need,” Alma opined as the waitress distributed their platters of food, “is a twenty-first-century male who adores us, knows we’re kick-ass and we can hold our own with any male on the planet.”
Laughing, Andy put the straw into her thick milkshake after thanking the waitress. “You know? When you’re as good or better than the other guy in the cockpit? Men don’t understand that we see them very differently than how they see us.”
“I’m sick of being looked at like ass and breasts on two legs,” Alma griped, pouring the ketchup on her fries.
“Ditto,” Grace said, nodding sagely.
“You two always had a gaggle of guys hanging around you,” Andy said.
“And we hated it,” Grace said, biting with gusto into her juicy, thick, bison burger.
The booth quieted as they hungrily dove into their meal. After coming up for air, Andy said, “This valley is full of cowboys.”
“Are they as full of themselves as pilots are?” Alma demanded, giving her a one-eyebrow raised look.
“There are a lot of military vets coming home here,” Andy said. “But most of them are ground pounders, not pilots, insof
ar as I know. For instance? The Bar C is owned by Shaylene Crawford-Lockhart, who was in the Marine Corps. She came home to take over her family’s ranch because her father, at forty-five, had a stroke. Reese, who had been a company commander and Marine, found her ranch and went to ask if they had any jobs for someone like him. Shay, who is a good friend of mine—we grew up together and went to the same school—had decided to make the Bar C a haven for returning vets.”
“She gave them a place to heal up and reorient?” Grace asked, popping a French fry into her mouth.
“Exactly,” Andy said. “Everyone working at the ranch, man or woman wrangler, is ex-military. It’s a real success story.”
“Any single male wranglers over there?” Alma wondered, giving her a playful look.
“Well,” Andy said, “there’s a way to find out.”
“Oh?” Grace said, perking up. “Tell us how.”
“On July Fourth, my parents have invited anyone who wants to come to a barbecue celebrating Independence Day, plus the opening of the regional hub. The people of this valley never miss a ranch invite like that. I think every single military vet will be there in his best duds. You’ll get a good look at all of them.”
“Hmm,” Alma said, “sounds cool. I’d sure like to find a guy who’s nice and treats a woman like his equal. I’m so over how we’ve been treated.”
“The #metoo movement has fixed that.”
“I like the #timesup one,” Andy said. “I’m so over the last ten thousand years of men running this planet and putting women down and always telling us we’re only good for one thing: being barefoot and pregnant.”
Grace lifted her upper lip in a snarl. “I haven’t ever had any patience with that type of dude.”
“Which is why,” Alma said crisply, “we’re all single and hitting thirty years old.”
Grumpily, Grace muttered, “I’d rather be an old maid, as my mother is worried I’ll become, than deal with a jerk who never sees me as a human being, just something to screw.”
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