WIND
A Quinn Brothers Story
CASEY CLIPPER
The Right of Casey Clipper to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her.
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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First Published 2016
Copyright © Casey Clipper 2016
Published by
NTJ Publishing
Bookcovers by BookCover Master Class
WIND
A Quinn Brothers Story
1
Aaron Quinn stood outside the cockpit of the private plane, waiting for the Hollywood starlet, on the Atlanta tarmac, to make her appearance. He and the two flight attendants had been waiting for her arrival for half an hour. He checked his watch, again. Five p.m. It had been the same every day this past week. Late for departure, late for arrival and get an earful from the actress’s personal assistant, manager, and publicist.
He sighed, a bit put out. He’d end up having to cancel the date he had this evening in Canada.
“Oh, to be a member of the elite, entitlement club,” the first flight attended murmured.
Aaron shot her a glare. He wasn’t fond of the two attendants that volunteered to take this job. They were snide and their obvious jealousy rankled him. And he wasn’t entirely convinced they hadn’t or wouldn’t pull out cameras to take pictures of an unaware actress.
A black Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the private airport’s gate and was waved through by the minimal security. His gaze zeroed in on the back passenger door. Soon enough, her head of security opened the door. She gingerly climbed out of the SUV into the blazing late day Georgia sun, squinting as she shaded her eyes with her hand. She was shaky on her feet and appeared tired, worn.
Aaron stood up straighter, adjusting his tie. His eyes never left her as she slowly climbed the steps to the private plane, her head down. She wore designer clothing and shoes made for paparazzi pictures, all to fit her image as a badass actress—a pair of tight, black leather pants, stiletto boots, and a black tank top, showing off her toned arms. Scratch that, she wasn’t tone, she was cut. Her long wavy burgundy hair contrasted with her fair skin perfectly. Her ample breasts were displayed in the tank and the pants conformed to legs that clearly hit the treadmill often. She wasn’t what those who ran Hollywood would look at as a typical starlet. She wasn’t tall, blonde, and a size zero. But there was something genuine about her that made the press, movie companies, directors, producers, actors, and fans go nuts over her. Aaron could honestly say he was in that group as well. He watched the shows she starred and guest starred in before this job. He’d been her pilot numerous times since the start of filming her latest movie, requested by her and her security each trip, and he’d only grown more enamored with her.
She looked up when she reached the top of the stairs, giving him a tired smiled. “Hi, Aaron.”
He had to shove his hanging tongue back into his mouth. He’d seen her every day but something about today made her more desirable. Maybe it was the thick, black dramatic eyeliner. Or the mussed hair. Or the fact that when she looked at him, her dark blue eyes lit up.
“Good evening, Miss Tyler,” he said professionally. “We’re ready to take off as soon as you are.”
“Please call me Chelsea, Aaron.” She smiled warmly.
She’d asked him daily, each time she boarded and then exited the plane, to call her by her first name. But as a professional private plane pilot, the gesture was too informal for him to change. Despite that fact, he really wanted to use her name.
He just smiled and tipped his hat. The two attendants scurried after Miss Tyler, as if they hadn’t been just snarkily dogging her not five minutes prior.
Aaron climbed into the cockpit to take his passenger to Canada for two days, the length of time she had been allotted to film in the country before having to return to Atlanta.
***
Aaron took a sip of his Glenlevit, his preferred brand of whiskey, watching the sports channel on the bar television, while he waited for his late evening dinner to arrive. Soft music played in the hotel bar, only a handful of customers scattered about at the late hour. He glanced at his phone, smiling at the picture of his niece, Riley, new nephew, Mason, adopted by his brother Brayden and his husband, and Jack, his brother, Justin’s, stepson. For the first time in his life, a pang of jealousy rocketed through him over his brothers. Which was ridiculous. He loved being single. He loved the freedom of jetting around the world without the tie down of a wife.
But each of this siblings had found happiness with a partner and settled down, creating new lives for themselves with fantastic spouses. He envied them. Hell, he even liked Mike, Brayden’s husband. Who knew he’d have a brother-in-law one day? But the man fit right into the Quinn family as if he’d been born for the job, just like his sisters-in-law. And man, if he didn’t love those three women. Each one sassy as hell and able to handle the Quinn men to perfection. Their family had grown enormously over a short period of time. Their dad was on cloud nine, loving his daughters-in-law and his son-in-law, relishing in grandchildren. Aaron remained the single one of the five brothers. And he hadn’t cared at all about that status until recently, on occasion, watching his brothers thrive under the love of their significant others. But now, when he was with his brothers and their families, he felt something inside missing. He tended to leave soon after the unwelcomed sensation hit.
“Do you mind if I sit?” The soft voice startled him out of his self-pouting.
He spun to find his actress standing next to him. Alone. He glanced around, waiting for one of her bodyguards to jump out of a shadow somewhere.
“They’re around, trust me,” she said factually. She motioned to the chair next to him. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” he sputtered. “Sorry.”
She climbed onto the chair, laughing when her feet dangled from the high stool. “I’m so damn short that my feet won’t even hit the floor.”
“I wouldn’t call you short.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Really? Then what would you call my vertically challenged stature?”
He chuckled. “Compared to my sister-in-law, you’re tall.”
“The poor thing.” She waved the bartender over. “Vodka and cranberry.”
A deep clearing of the throat came from somewhere behind them.
She sighed and closed her eyes. “Never mind. A bottled water, unopened, thank you.”
Aaron peeked over his shoulder, noticing two of her bodyguards seated behind them in a booth. Not inconspicuous. Not at all.
She shrugged. “I can’t trust the bartender. You just don’t know who would put something into one of my drinks. Yes, my security is always around, but they’re not everywhere, at all times. They’re set on training me to watch myself.”
He blinked, horrified. “Someone would not do that to you.”
“You’d be surprised,” she murmured. “And I’ve found myself in situations where I’m alone.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask when, where, how, and why, his curiosity intrigued, but he refrained from overstepping if she didn’
t want to elaborate.
One of the hulk-like security men growled and muttered something.
“Though that’s normally with Billy, when he’s in town and calls for me to sneak away from those guys.” She tossed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve found myself in a few biker bars, wondering how the hell we got there.”
Aaron stared at her. What the hell was happening? She did mean to tell him that tidbit of gossip? Because celebrities tended to hold their personal lives and escapades close to the chest. How did he react to a one of the biggest actresses in the world spilling some juicy info? And not just about anything, about some of her well documented shenanigans with one of her costars of the number one television show she starred in. Not that she was the actual star of the show. That title belonged to the actor who’d been on the series since day one. But Chelsea Tyler’s popularity had soared since the first episode she made her appearance two years ago. Some of that was due to how she’d been discovered. Aaron knew the story well. She’d been approached by the writer of the show outside of a football game in Pittsburgh, asking her if she’d ever considered acting. She notably replied, “I don’t do porn, asshole. Beat it.”
The writer/creator of the show had instantly fallen in love with her and so had fans when they’d heard that story.
“Then why do you sneak out with Bill?” He wondered about their relationship. Tabloids claimed the two had a relationship but they both denied the rumors.
She shrugged. “I can be myself with Billy. There’s zero judgement. I don’t have to put on the Hollywood façade. Plus, it’s rare that I get to go out and just let loose. I don’t have to worry about him taking anything I say the wrong way. He gets me. And most importantly, there’s not a chance in hell he’ll hit on me.”
Aaron snorted. Not likely. He knew men. Her costar was probably waiting for the right opportunity.
“Trust me on this one, Aaron,” she said softly. “He won’t hit on me. He’s in a relationship.”
He didn’t remember reading about Billy dating in the trash magazine he read at the airport while waiting for his planes to be prepared for flight.
She leaned into him and whispered. “The relationship is new…and still in the closet.”
“Ohhh,” Aaron said.
What the hell she was doing at the bar, talking to him?
The bartender brought over her water. “Would you like something to eat?”
Another clearing of the throat from behind them.
“No thank you,” she said, sighing. “I really want a hunk of chocolate. But it’s late. And my security also happens to be my trainers. So if they know I eat a piece of cake, my ass will pay for it tomorrow at the gym before we film.”
“How long do you have to keep up this crazy schedule?” Aaron asked.
This was the second week he’d been asked to fly her this month. She was filming the show down in Atlanta three days a week, flying to Canada to film a movie two days a week and then flying back to Atlanta for two days. Each week it switched off. He only knew because he was her pilot, well, temporarily, until they found someone else to fly her back and forth.
“For the next few months until I get a break in the show. But then I’ll be on the movie set the entire time. I think I’m tied up with either both or one for the next four months.” She opened her water and took a long gulp.
“That’s got to be difficult,” he said.
She shrugged. “It’s the price for doing what I do. I’m not going to complain. Exactly three years ago, I was a waitress, barely able to make ends meet. I won’t ever bitch.”
He stared at her blunt words, admiring her grounded reasoning. Chelsea wasn’t like any other celebrity he’d flown. She was real. There was nothing more attractive than a gorgeous woman who understood and lived grateful for the opportunities she’d been given.
His phone dinged with an email. Aaron pulled up the message to see he’d been requested to be Chelsea’s pilot for the next couple months. His gaze shot over to her.
She gave him a small smile and pointed over her shoulder, again. “Security trusts you.”
2
Aaron waited, again, for his actress. His life had become endless hours of waiting for the woman. A woman he wasn’t even sleeping with or related to. Times like these made him question his career. Essentially serving the wealthy elite. Oh, he benefitted by traveling the world, visiting exotic and tropical locations. Had stepped on the ground of all fifty states in the US. But there was a definite down side. He never got to plant his feet for a long stretch of time to take full advantage of the locations. He was luckier than commercial pilots, who didn’t get to see the sights because they had to fly out in the next few hours. Whereas, Aaron could hang around the destination if he didn’t have another corporate executive, Hollywood bigwig, or professional athlete to jet around the world. Most of the time that gave him a day or two between jobs.
He entered the cockpit to check his itinerary and flight plan. He was carting Chelsea back to Atlanta. From there he intended to fly home to Pittsburgh for a couple days. He decided to fly into the Arnold Palmer Airport to avoid the hassle of the Pittsburgh Airport. He could shoot down Route 30 and be home within an hour, avoiding the parkway and construction traffic. How pathetic had his life become recently? He was literally planning, down to the drive from the airport, how to get home to maximize his time with his brothers and their families.
“She’s here,” the new flight attendant called out. Apparently security hadn’t trusted the two flight attendants that had flown into Canada. They were replaced quickly. Smart men.
Aaron noticed that Chelsea’s security seemed to run her life, as opposed to agents and publicists and personal assistants. Not that they didn’t have a say. But it was obvious that security held more weight in Chelsea’s life than her career employees. Aaron was curious as to the how and why the reasoning behind that choice.
He left the cockpit in time to watch Chelsea climb the steps. “Sorry, Aaron. Filming ran late. Like it always does.”
He smiled and tipped his hat. “No problem, Miss Tyler.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Seriously? You’re going to go with Miss Tyler? We spent hours together at the bar two nights ago and you can’t find it in yourself to call me by my first name. You’re starting to piss me off.” A humorous glint her sapphires.
He gave credit to the two flight attendants schooling their reactions. Only their eyes darting between Aaron and Chelsea gave away the fact that they were shocked.
How did he handle this? She reminded him a lot of his sisters-in-law with her spitfire attitude and sometimes balls-to-the-wall demeanor. If he countered her attitude, would she send him packing, having security replace him? Or would she like the fact that someone around her didn’t walk on eggshells, treating her like precious glass? He had a career to protect, no matter how mundane it seemed at times. He couldn’t afford a black spot on his resume for being fired by the “it” actress of Hollywood currently. He’d built a great reputation among the top one percent and didn’t want to lose his bread and butter, despite the fact he found it harder and harder to enjoy his work.
He took a chance. “Am I? I apologize. Should I get down on bended knee and beg your forgiveness for making such a dire error, Miss Tyler?”
She flipped him off with a wide smile. “Fuck you, Aaron. I should make you get down on your knees.”
His brow notched up as a vision assaulted him. Him down on his knees, naked, with her naked body in his hands, feasting on her.
“You wish.” The words slipped out before he could filter. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Surprise crossed over her beautiful features. She burst out laughing. “I have no witty retort. My security doesn’t sexually harass me to be quick on a comeback. I’m going to have to talk to them about that and renegotiate their contracts.”
Aaron’s gaze shot to her three security guards, who watched him like a hawk. A small smile played at the corners of one of the
men’s lips, while the other scowled, clearly not liking his not-so-subtle innuendo. A groan came from the third bodyguard, his eyes hitting the ceiling and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Chelsea patted Aaron’s face and whispered, “I like you. A lot.”
She walked away, heading to the back of the plane, the warm sensation of her touch, lingering as she retreated.
***
Aaron cradled his newborn nephew in his arms, face down, his belly laying against his forearm, taking him for a stroll around Brayden and Mike’s apartment. He sidestepped around Liam putting together a swing for Mason.
Mason was not a happy newborn boy and only Uncle Aaron seemed to have the touch to calm him. Brayden’s dark blue eyes that matched his, constantly looked dull and exhausted with deep lines set at the corners. The frazzled life of having a newborn undeniable.
“He’s got colic,” Mike explained. “We’ve been researching to find treatments. It’s awful. He’s in so much pain.”
Aaron kissed Mason’s head, taking in that newborn baby scent. It really was addictive. He could see why all Liam talked about was procreating.
Shane pulled up a website on his phone. “Have you swaddled him? White noise? Laid him on his side? Pacifier?”
“Brayden doesn’t want to give him a pacifier,” Mike said.
Doubt crinkled Shane’s expression. “And how’s that working out for the two of you?”
Mike pursed his lips, clearly biting his tongue.
“He likes this position,” Aaron said.
“Yeah, he does.” Mike went over to his son, stroking his dark brown hair.
“Massage him,” Shane went on, absorbed in his phone. “Or move his legs around to release some of the gas in his belly.”
Aaron laughed as Mike rolled his eyes. “We’re trying it all, Shane.”
“Except for the pacifier,” his brother muttered. “Where is Brayden?”
Wind: The Quinn Brothers Story 5 (A Quinn Brothers Story) Page 1