by Sandra Owens
Charlie was charmed down to her toes by his little speech. No boy in her high school had ever asked her to go steady, even though she had kissed more than her fair share of them.
“Well, do you?” he asked.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ryan kissed his new girlfriend good-bye, then watched her Corvette until the taillights disappeared. Damned weird night, and damned weird stuff had come out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure he was ready for a girlfriend. But when Charlie had said all those becauses, he couldn’t imagine not seeing her again.
When her fingers had traced a circle over his belt, he’d come close to removing it for her so she could get her hand inside his pants. He had stopped her because he feared once they made love, she wouldn’t agree to see him again.
So he had asked his dumb question, and surprise, it appeared they were going steady. He looked up at the stars that his pilot girl loved. “What a night,” he said to them, then got in his car and headed straight for the closest hamburger drive-thru.
When he arrived home and walked inside his apartment, Mr. Bunny was at the door as usual to greet him. The rabbit hopped along behind him as Ryan made his way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, then decided he should call his new girlfriend to make sure she had arrived home safely. Slouched on the sofa with his beer, and a rabbit nestled between his legs, he dialed Charlie’s number.
“Hey, cherub,” he said when she answered. “Wanna have phone sex?”
“Not until I have your class ring hanging on a chain around my neck,” she fired back.
“I knew I was forgetting something. You want my letter sweater, too?”
“You got one?”
He smiled as he pulled a throw pillow up behind his head. “No, but I could give you my dad’s.”
“Is he as cute as you?”
“You think I’m cute?” A little snort sounded in his ear, and he took that as a yes. “Stop that, Mr. Bunny.” He pushed the rabbit’s mouth away from where he was nibbling on Ryan’s sweatpants.
“Hey, Ryan?”
“Yeah?” Was she going to say something sexy?
“If you tell me you have a giant, invisible rabbit as a friend, then I’m breaking up with you.”
Laughter burst from him, and it felt good. “Nope, just a normal-sized living and breathing one.”
“Sheesh, you had me worried there for a minute. Seriously, though, you have a rabbit for a pet? That’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”
“Not gonna argue with that, but in my defense, he adopted me. Showed up on my doorstep one day and refuses to leave.”
“Softie,” she whispered.
“Mmm, not always,” he said, but doubted she’d get his double meaning. Even though their conversation wasn’t sexually charged, he was getting turned on just talking to her.
“No dirty talk, Mr. Hot Guy, until I see that class ring.” She ruined her stern voice by laughing.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Come here for dinner. I’ll put it around your neck myself.” Where the hell was the ring?
“Do I get to meet Mr. Bunny?”
“Absolutely.” They agreed on a time, and he gave her his address. “Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“I really do like you.”
She made a pfffing noise. “I should hope so. You did ask me to go steady, after all.”
After he disconnected the call, he stared at the phone as doubt crept in. Was he going too fast with her, committing to something he wasn’t sure he was ready for? After thinking about it for a few minutes, he waved away his misgivings. The going-steady thing wasn’t real, just a game. And he did want to see her more than once, and more than just for sex. Whether that made her his girlfriend, who knew?
“We have a ring to find, Mr. Bunny,” he said, as he carried the rabbit with him to the bedroom. An hour later, his closet torn apart, and the rabbit lost somewhere in the mess strewn on the floor, he found the ring in a shoebox. Also in the box were pictures of him and Kathleen.
Other than the one photo of her he kept on his dresser, he hadn’t looked at any pictures of her since he had watched her coffin being lowered into the ground. Hadn’t wanted to. He shuffled through them, stopping at one taken by his mom the night of the senior prom.
Kathleen had been beautiful, and he touched a finger to her hair, tracing the auburn locks down to where they disappeared behind her back. She had grown into her beauty. When they had decided to be best friends, she had hated her hair, the freckles across her nose, and the way her front teeth protruded. By her fifteenth birthday, her hair had taken on its deep auburn color, her freckles—which he had loved—had been easily hidden by a little makeup, and braces had given her perfect teeth.
He remembered the dress in the picture. She had dragged him with her to shop for it, so no surprise he could close his eyes and recall that afternoon. He had wanted her to take his mother instead, but Kathleen wasn’t having it. “You have to like it, too,” she’d said.
So he had sat in a chair outside the dressing rooms of some downtown Boston department store. The first two times she had walked out, he’d shaken his head. The third time when she appeared in front of him, he sucked in a breath. His Kathleen was stunning.
Two years earlier, his parents had finally saved enough money to take the family on a vacation to the home country. The dress was the same deep green as the hills of Ireland that he could still see in his mind’s eye. The bodice, held up by thin straps over her shoulders, gave a bare hint of what was covered by the material, and the skirt swirled around the tops of her knees as she pivoted for him.
He reached out a hand and fingered the soft fabric. “This one.” She had been his best friend since the third grade, they had talked about it and decided to be boyfriend and girlfriend in the ninth grade, and he fell in love with her on that day in a Boston department store.
It wasn’t until he felt his eyes burning that he realized tears were falling down his cheeks. Angry that he still cried for her, he tossed the photos back into the box and slammed on the lid. He slipped his class ring onto his finger, than began putting his closet back in order. Under an old sweatshirt, he found a sleeping rabbit.
Ryan checked his watch to see he had a little over an hour before the grocery store closed. Leaving his new pet to his dreams, he went to the kitchen and made a list of the items he would need to make his new girlfriend an authentic Irish meal. Lots of new things in his life, he thought as he grabbed his keys. He hoped they were good ones—the job, the girlfriend, the rabbit—because he could certainly use some good.
Charlie fisted her hands at her sides to keep from putting a hole in the nearby wall. “I want my plane moved into the hangar.” She poked a finger into David’s chest. “Today.” She had kept it stored on the tarmac, tied down at night like all the other planes because it was cheaper. Hangar space would take a bigger bite out of her funds, but she didn’t care. With a nail driven into each of the tires, she could no longer deny someone was messing with her plane.
The airport manager spread out his hands. “We’re full in here, you know that.”
“Don’t give me your bull crap. I’ve seen you squeeze in an overnight plane before. Squeeze mine in.” David was a genius at making room when a pilot slipped him a few extra bucks.
“Fine, but only for a few days.”
She kicked at one of the flat tires. “No, until we find out who’s screwing with my plane, or would you rather attend my funeral?”
His face paled. “Jesus, Charlie, you know better’n that. Don’t even talk that way, it’s bad luck.”
It was going to be someone’s bad luck whenever she found out who was playing their nasty games. She eyed David. He gave her a blank look, then his eyes widened.
“You’re not thinking . . . seriously, you don’t think . . . dammit, you couldn’t possibly think . . .”
“You’re sputtering, David.” She sighed. “No, not really. It’s just that it could be anyone
, you know. I don’t know who to be suspicious of.”
Her gaze roamed around the hangar, stopping on Gary. The top half of his body was invisible as he stood on the far side of a Learjet. As the head mechanic, he would definitely have the know-how, but what had she ever done to him that would make him want to kill her? Three other mechanics and five of the line crew guys huddled in a corner, drinking coffee as they waited for their day to begin. Charlie glanced at the clock. God forbid they started three minutes early.
Her first student wasn’t scheduled until eleven because she had marked out time to start choreographing her performance for the air show. As her aerobatic plane now had flat tires, practicing was out. Whoever was doing these things had declared open warfare with the nails. She only had two weeks before the show, and although that was plenty of time, she hated leaving preparations until the last minute.
“Well, it’s not me, so get that idea out of your head,” David said, bringing her attention back to him.
She patted his arm. “I know. I’m just frustrated. No, actually I’m royally pissed off. Don’t pay me any mind. You need to call the police and file a report about this.”
“Ahh . . .” He kicked the toe of his shoe across the cement floor.
“Right. Bad publicity. Well, hear this. One more incident, and I’m calling them myself.” Not waiting for an answer, she said, “I guess I’ll go catch up on paperwork.” Halfway across the hangar, she paused and turned. “I better see my plane tucked up in here all safe and sound tonight.” Satisfied with his nod, she headed to her cubicle.
As she passed the other flight instructor cubicles, she began ticking them off. Scott? Had she ever done anything to him that would give him reason enough to mess with her plane? Rob? Hank? Derrick?
She ruled out her ex-boyfriend. What would he have to gain? Aaron had been the one to break up with her, so why would he be angry with her?
Then there was her stepfather, who had found Jesus right after she had testified against him at his parole hearing. If true—which she doubted—wouldn’t Jesus frown on murder? Plus, he’d have to somehow get an outsider to do his dirty work.
The only person she knew who truly hated her was her stepsister. Charlie couldn’t imagine Ashley deciding to commit murder, though. Nor would she know how to sabotage a plane.
“Gah!” She hated being suspicious of everyone. Who was she supposed to trust?
At her desk, the framed photo of her family before everything had fallen apart caught her eye. It had been taken at Christmas in front of the last tree they would ever decorate together. She’d been such a brat that day, mad because her friends were going to the movies while she had to stay home so her mother could get the perfect holiday picture of the family wearing stupid matching red sweaters.
They always decorated the tree exactly one week before Christmas, a tradition her mother insisted on. Charlie picked up the photo and stared at her fifteen-year-old chubby self. Still pouting when it was taken, she had refused to smile, and suddenly she was embarrassed by her behavior, especially all these years later.
Her stepsister, Ashley, always perfect, smiled brightly at the camera. They’d never had a great relationship, but they had mostly tolerated each other. Until it all fell to pieces, anyway. Did Ashley hate her so much that she would concoct some kind of stupid scheme? Charlie tapped her fingers on her desk for a moment, then made up her mind. Last she had heard, Ashley was still living in her father’s house, and fishing her phone from her purse, Charlie dialed a number she still remembered.
“Hello, this is Ashley.”
Half expecting that Ashley would have changed her number, Charlie squeezed her eyes shut. Her stepsister’s voice was as perky as ever. “I-it’s Charlene.” Silence. “I just wondered . . . ah, I just wondered how you were doing.” She should have thought out what to say first.
“What do you care?”
Okay, Ashley still hated her, but enough to want to kill her? “I just . . . I dunno. You left the parole hearing before I got a chance to talk to you. We’re still family, you know, and I—”
“We’re not family.”
The line went dead, and Charlie dropped her phone on her desk. “Nice talking to you, too, sis.”
The day Ashley’s father had been convicted, she had confronted Charlie outside the courtroom. “How could you?” she had screamed, her face inches from Charlie’s.
“So you think what he did was okay? Shannon hung herself because of him.”
“No, she killed herself because of you and your big mouth. I wish my dad had never met your mother, then none of this would be happening. You ruined our lives. I’ll always hate you for that.”
Those were the last words her stepsister had spoken to her until a few minutes ago. At the parole board hearing, all her stepsister had graced her with were looks that said Charlie was no better than dirt. Charlie opened a drawer and put the photo in it, wanting it out of sight. If she hadn’t said anything to her guidance counselor, would she still have her family and would her mother still be alive? One question had plagued her in the years since then. Had she really been the reason Shannon decided to put a rope around her neck?
Charlie hadn’t meant to tell the guidance counselor. Troubled by what she had seen her stepfather doing to Shannon, she’d felt mad at everyone, and mouthed off to a teacher. Sent to the office, then to the guidance counselor, Mrs. Bronson had somehow gotten the story out of Charlie. From there, her world had crumbled around her when the police got involved.
Guilt over destroying her family, and even worse guilt over Shannon’s suicide, had ruined her appetite. To avoid the accusing eyes of her mother and stepsister, she’d stayed in her room when not at school. Even her friends avoided her, as if she had some kind of contagious disease.
Hurt and lonely, self-hatred drove her to consider taking her own life. Her father had been a commercial airline pilot, but he’d been killed in a car accident when she was nine. The lure of being with her dad had been strong, but in the end, she hadn’t been able to take that final step. Her greatest worry had been that she would go to hell if she really were the reason Shannon had hung herself, and then she would never get to see her daddy again.
Then one day her jeans were so loose that they barely stayed on. She had stood in front of a mirror for a long time and stared at the girl reflected back at her. Her hair was dirty and stringy, there were shadows under her eyes, and she was at least ten pounds lighter than she had been before life as she had known it changed.
Charlene hadn’t recognized herself, and something inside her said she could transform herself into a different person, one who hadn’t caused so much carnage. She began to run every morning before school, she studied hard, and she decided to be a pilot like her father, except the new her wanted something more exciting than flying commercial airliners around the country.
Her phone buzzed, bringing her back to the present. When she saw Ryan’s name on the screen, she smiled.
“No, I’m still not going to have phone sex with you,” she said as a greeting.
“You’re breaking my heart, cherub.”
She doubted that, but she heard the smile in his voice. “What can I do for you, Mr. O’Connor?”
“Well, if you’re not going to have phone sex with me, I guess nothing.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he going to cancel their date? “Okay, so you’re calling because?”
“Maybe I just wanted to tell my new girlfriend to have a nice day. We still on for tonight?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said as her heart seemed to sigh in relief and return to its normal pace. “Can I bring anything?”
“Just your lovely self. I’ve got the rest covered. See you tonight, girlfriend.”
“No ring, no girlfriend,” she said. She had never been able to flirt so easily with other men, and wasn’t sure what was different about Ryan that she didn’t have to take ten minutes to think of a response. Weird, but nice. Definitely nice.
�
�Got that covered, too,” he said before hanging up.
“Bye,” she said to dead air, smiling.
Derrick popped his head up from the other side of the cubicle and waggled his brows. “I’ll have phone sex with you.”
“In your dreams. No, ewww, not even there. And stop listening to my conversations.”
“Hard not to when I’m sitting right here, and, anyway, don’t wanna stop when you get dirty phone calls. You expecting any more?”
Charlie shot him a bird on her way out to do an extracareful preflight of the Cessna before her student arrived. On second thought, she went to the schedule and signed out a different plane than the one in the book next to her name.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The aroma of an authentic shepherd’s pie filled Ryan’s apartment. It was the one Irish dish he knew how to make. He’d only had to call his mother twice regarding the meal he had planned for Charlie. Although his mother was happy he had a date, the first time he had called was tough as they both skirted any mention of Kathleen. She and his mother had been thick as thieves, and he couldn’t help wondering what his mom would think if she knew the truth about his wife.
It had been one reason he’d fled to San Diego, to keep from seeing his family every day and at some point blurting out the truth. Although Kathleen had betrayed him in the worst possible way, he couldn’t bring himself to tarnish her image in their eyes.
At the end of his second call, he had promised to come home as soon as he could manage a few days off, something he already intended to do for an entirely different reason than she could ever guess.
His plan for the evening was to give Charlie a taste of Ireland, as much as he could in a one-bedroom apartment in Pensacola, Florida. Irish music played on the stereo, and the pie was baking in the oven. For dessert, he would make her a coffee with Baileys and whipped cream.