Tad’s grin nearly melted her insides. Sandy thought she’d never need to find comfort in the arms of another chocolate chip cookie if she had him to come home to every day.
“This says they don’t open until ten,” he said. “Does that work?”
She picked up a warm cookie, pleased at how perfect this batch had turned out. “As long as we leave at ten. It’s a forty-minute drive.” She pointed to the cookies. “Want one?”
“These do look better than the last batch.”
“Ha ha.” Her natural instinct was to slap playfully at his impressive bicep, especially after his flirtatious statement and delivery. But she snatched up another cookie instead. She couldn’t flirt with Tad.
Could she?
Her feelings swirled like a tornado, and by the time they’d eaten their way through most of the cookies, the conversation lighter and easier, Sandy felt wrung out. She escaped to her bedroom at the same time Tad did, Hank still snoring softly in the recliner.
She fell into bed since she already wore her pajamas. And though her mind felt bruised from all it had been through today, the one shining ray was Tad.
The next morning, Tad felt like he was gearing up to take a group of tourists over the deepest part of the Grand Canyon. Though he’d been flying for a decade, the nervous buzz of bees in his gut never went away. Not until he brought them all back to the rim safely.
But he was nowhere near the canyon now, and he’d already decided to give up piloting completely. So as he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, he couldn’t quite figure out why he felt like he could fall off a cliff at any moment.
He stepped out of the bathroom and put his toiletry bag in his suitcase. Behind him and around the corner, he heard the low warble of Sandy’s voice as she bustled around the kitchen. His nerves rioted, and everything became clear.
Tad had always craved an adrenaline rush—it was what got him into flying helicopters in the first place. He actually enjoyed the tremors in his stomach, lived for the rush of hovering over the Green River and doing a buzz by Hoover Dam.
And now, everything in him wanted to see Sandy, smell Sandy, and get closer to Sandy. He smoothed his palms down his jeans as he went into the kitchen, expecting to see her fresh from bed, maybe without makeup and just getting ready to shower.
Instead, she stood in front of the French doors that led to her small balcony, her back to him. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in soft curls he wanted to run his fingers through. He fisted his hands, wondering if his attraction to her would be approved of by her brother.
Tad glanced over his shoulder, but Hank’s door stayed shut. Maybe what Hank didn’t know didn’t need to hurt him. And why would Tad dating Sandy hurt Hank? Tad was a good guy, even if he was currently unemployed and not telling anyone why.
She wore a long-sleeved, green sweater and a pair of jeans that hugged every curve. Tad cleared his throat and forced his attention to the coffee maker. Sandy turned and nearly sent his adrenaline to the moon with her dazzling smile.
“Morning,” she said. “You just put in one of those pods.” She pointed to the counter. “Choose the flavor you want. Pop it in, hit brew.”
He reached for one of the disposable pods she’d indicated. He chose a regular roast and stuck it in the machine. He selected one of the mugs she’d set on the counter so he wouldn’t try to touch her and set the coffee to brew. “Thought you said you were sleeping in.”
She sighed and added a little giggle at the end that made a thrill squirrel up Tad’s spine. “I can never sleep in. I used to work the breakfast shift at the pancake house.” She met his eye. “Old habit.”
“So you don’t go in for breakfast anymore?”
“I’m really that transparent, huh?”
“It’s eight o’clock,” he said. “You said we couldn’t even leave till ten.” He shrugged and added a scoop of sugar to his coffee.
“Yeah, I’m usually at the house at six,” she said. “I stay through lunch, because my night manager comes in at three.”
Tad returned her natural smile. He’d already asked her if she liked owning the pancake house. She’d claimed to love it, and going in at six a.m. testified further of that. Standing there with her, sipping coffee that desperately needed a shot of hazelnut cream, Tad couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He just liked being with Sandy. The quaking in his gut had gone out, and he didn’t feel the need to stuff this silence with awkward questions.
The urge to tell her he’d quit flying surged to the front of Tad’s brain. The words sat on the edge of his tongue. But she’d already asked if he was still flying, and he’d said he was. He’d been in Three Rivers for twelve hours. Talked with Sandy for maybe two. He barely knew her, even if he felt comfortable with her.
“Maybe we can go get some pancakes,” he said. “Since you didn’t want to leave until ten and all. I’d like to see your house.”
A sparkled entered her eye. “You really want to?”
Tad took a step closer, his eyes seemingly unable to look anywhere but into hers. Dozens of lines ran through his mind, but he managed to say, “Sure, why not?” casually, like he wasn’t aching to see what the pancake house had to say about Sandy Keller.
“I’ll wake Hank.”
Tad’s spirits fell, and he hid his emotion behind his coffee mug. Sandy flounced out of the kitchen while Tad wondered—again—why he thought getting to know his best friend’s little sister was a good idea.
He’d barely swallowed another mouthful of coffee when Sandy returned. “Hank’s picking Willow up in Amarillo at eleven. He can’t come.” Her fingers worried themselves around each other. “Then he’s taking her to lunch in the city before coming back out here.” Her gaze flitted around the room. “I guess he’ll be back around four. My mother’s making Christmas Eve dinner, something she’s never done before.” A measure of bitterness accompanied her words.
“Ham, I heard,” Tad said, cursing himself for not saying something more soothing, more comforting. “It’s totally overrated. Turkey is a much better Christmas meat.”
Stop talking! he commanded himself, but Sandy smiled at him.
“I totally think turkey should be eaten at Christmas,” she said. “My mom always dries out the ham.”
An opportunity bloomed in Tad’s mind. “Well, let’s eat as many pancakes as we can now.” He offered her his arm, surprised at himself and even more shocked when she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Though he wore his jacket already, fire came with the weight of her arm in his. He tucked her close, unsure of what the heck he was doing.
“And then we can get lunch too,” he finished. “You need your purse or anything?”
“It’s in my car.”
“You leave your purse in your car?”
“It’s Three Rivers.” She opened the door. “You grew up in a small town, Tad. You know how it is.”
He did, so he nodded, but he was drunk on the sound of her voice saying his name. He went with her down the steps and to a red sedan.
“Someone parked in my spot,” she said, glancing down the row of cars. “Looks like they’re gone now.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“More than I’d like.”
“And yet you leave your purse in the car.” He scoffed and chuckled at the same time. “Sounds like Three Rivers isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
She swatted his arm, and he pulled her closer to his side. She paused, and he did too, and time seemed to as well. Sandy looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and Tad knew in that moment that the attraction he felt for her wasn’t one-sided.
“Tad,” she said.
He waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he took a deep breath and forced reason into his thoughts. Adding a smile to his actions, he stepped away from her, veering toward the passenger side of her car. She unlocked it, the sharp sound of the locks breaking the moment—and the awkwardness—between them.
He folded himself in
to her tiny car and buckled up, keeping his focus away from her by training his eyes out the window. “This is a beautiful town,” he said.
“I guess.”
“You guess?” He dared a quick look at her but couldn’t read her expression so fast.
“I’ve….” She pulled out of the parking lot and Tad couldn’t help himself. He stared at her, troubled by the long pause and the crease between her eyebrows.
She pulled onto the road, pointing the car east. “I’ve lived here my whole life.” Her fingers flexed on the steering wheel.
“Ah.” Tad remembered his teenage feelings of being trapped in the small Wyoming town of Stillwater, where nothing ever happened and nothing was worth staying for. He’d left as fast as he could and only returned to visit a couple of times a year. He’d completed his pilot training in Los Angeles, and chosen a job in another big city. He loved the activity, the constant noise, the eclectic mix of people.
Or at least he had.
Now, the thought of six hundred thousand people surrounding him brought a panicked edge to Tad’s thoughts he couldn’t rationalize. Tall buildings reminded him that he could fall. That he was human. That his life could end with simple decisions like feathering the throttle when he should’ve given it more gas.
He pushed the memories of that flight from his mind.
“You okay?” Sandy’s hand landed on his arm. There, then gone. Quick as a wink. But the weight of it pressed into him, burned into his veins. He wanted to reach for her hand, have skin to skin contact.
“Fine,” he forced through a narrow throat.
Sandy frowned, but smoothed over it a moment later. “Okay, well, we’re here.” She gestured out the windshield.
Tad’s stomach revolted. How long had he disappeared inside his memories? Too long. Just like he’d done for weeks now. Months, if he were being honest.
Be honest.
The words sounded in his head like a siren, and he shifted so he faced Sandy. “I’m not really okay.” The raw emotion in his voice scared him.
Sandy blinked, her eyes softening. She reached across the console and took one of his hands in both of hers. Through Tad’s panic and fear, a jolt of electricity came with the touch.
“Well, let’s go get a short stack and talk about it.” She released his hand as fast as she’d taken it and opened the door.
Tad took a deep drag of her perfume-scented car, unsure of where the conversation would lead but desperate to have it at the same time. He’d only ever really talked about the flight with his boss, and even then it was all logistics. Not how the experience had changed Tad.
But changed him, it had. He stood, glanced around at the brilliant December sky of Texas, and closed his eyes. Thank you, Lord.
When he opened his eyes, Sandy waited for him near the hood, her expression concerned but not judgmental. “You ready?”
“Ready,” he said. For what, he wasn’t quite sure, but his word almost sounded like a promise.
Sandy knew something wasn’t quite right with Tad. She’d known it last night too. Curiosity tugged at her, and she tried to dismiss it. Just because she was small-town didn’t mean she had to enjoy gossip.
The bell on the door rang as she entered, and Gail froze her to the spot with a withering glare. “What are you doing here? You took the day off.” Her eyes traveled to Tad as he stepped beside Sandy. A knowing glint entered her expression.
“Two today,” Sandy said, sending a strong don’t ask anything. Say nothing vibe to Gail. She didn’t usually bring her dates to the pancake house, but Tad wasn’t a date. Not even close. More like an old friend who’d be in town for a few days. Nothing more.
She paraded these thoughts through her mind as Gail led them to the back corner, near the windows she knew Sandy loved. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Tad said. “Do you have hazelnut cream?”
“Sure thing, honey.” Gail left, taking some of the anxiety Sandy had spooling inside her. She shrugged out of her jacket and sat, pleased when Tad waited until she did to take his own seat.
“Hazelnut cream?” she asked. “That doesn’t seem very Vegas.”
“Oh, it’s very Vegas,” he countered, that playful tease back in his voice. “Dirty sodas and every mix-in you can imagine. Soda bars are everywhere. Can’t go anywhere and just get a Pepsi. No ma’am. That doesn’t fly.”
Sandy tipped her head back and laughed. She liked this side of Tad, the one that wasn’t burdened with a secret worry. One that didn’t censor himself. One that glowed with life.
Amber, one of Sandy’s best waitresses, brought their coffee, complete with the hazelnut cream. “Y’all ready to order?”
“Pancakes,” Tad said. “Lots of them.”
“Two tall stacks,” Sandy clarified. “You just want buttermilk?”
“With blueberry syrup,” he said. “And bacon. I want a lot of bacon too.”
“Bring the man a lot of bacon.” Sandy smiled first at Tad and then at Amber. The girl returned the smile and turned away. Sandy’s jovial mood went with her.
“So,” she started. “About you disappearing in the middle of a conversation….”
A pained expression shot across Tad’s face. “Is that what I do?”
“Twice now.” Sandy settled her elbows on the table, like she didn’t much care what haunted him. The truth was, she needed to know. Needed to help him.
Why, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because someone so handsome shouldn’t be so troubled. But Sandy dismissed the idea. She’d been attracted to a lot of handsome men. She’d dated many of them. She’d never felt this need to help them, soothe them, smooth out the rough parts of their pasts.
Maybe it was because Tad was Hank’s friend, and she knew what kind of man he’d used to be.
“I don’t like flying,” he blurted. His eyes caught hers and wouldn’t let go. Sandy tried to read what swam in their dark depths but couldn’t quite grasp what she saw.
“You’ve always loved flying.” She wished she didn’t sound so strangled, but her dreams of jumping onto a helicopter with Tad and jetting off to destinations unknown fizzled.
They were stupid fantasies anyway, she scolded herself. She always managed to come up with some harebrained idea of romance, of how a relationship with a particular man would go. And when it didn’t turn out that way, she ended up alone again, making cookies and going into work in the wee hours of the morning.
Even though Tad had just come into her life, her thoughts had circled an exciting world adventure with him.
He pulled his gaze from hers and stirred his coffee. “Did Hank tell you why I was able to come visit?”
“No.” Sandy didn’t even think about why Tad had accompanied her brother this time. Hank came home every year between Christmas and New Year’s. He’d been at his restaurant in Vegas long enough to get the prime vacation time.
“It’s really busy in Vegas this time of year. Lots of tourists.” He looked out the window like he meant the words only for himself.
Sandy frowned, trying to match the pieces up. His glazed look. His admission that he didn’t like flying. His presence. “What happened with your job?”
He jolted like she’d stabbed him with her fork. Soon enough, he settled back into a peaceful expression, sipping that hazelnut coffee in silence. Sandy decided to emulate him. He’d talk when he was ready.
Amber brought the plates of pancakes and bacon, and Sandy slathered her butter from side to side.
“There was an accident,” Tad finally said once Amber had moved away and he’d swallowed a piece of bacon. “At the beginning of November. Flying hasn’t been the same since.” He cut his pancake into a couple of bites and drizzled blueberry syrup over them. “I haven’t been the same.”
He speared the pancake and put it in his mouth.
Sandy copied him, but her usually delicious pancakes tasted like sawdust in her mouth. “What kind of accident?” She managed to keep the interest out of her voice, replacing it
with compassion. Something tugged in her chest, right against her heart. She liked this broken side of Tad too.
Stop it, she told herself. She’d tried fixing men in the past. All that led to was a heap of resentment and a painful break-up. Besides, she and Tad were friends. Not dating. Not in a relationship.
“My bird malfunctioned. I panicked a little. Did things in the wrong order.” The bite he put in his mouth this time would surely choke him. Sandy took it as a sign he didn’t want to explain further.
She nibbled on the edge of her pancake—usually her favorite bite because of the crispiness from the grill—and sipped her coffee. She waved Amber away from ten feet so the girl wouldn’t interrupt.
“Was anyone hurt?”
He obviously was, but Sandy wasn’t quite sure how. He didn’t walk with a limp. She’d only seen him in long sleeves, so he could have scars. Or maybe everything that had happened had left trauma on his mind, his ego, his heart.
“No.” He sighed. “That’s the thing. I got everyone back to the rim just fine. It was rocky, not gonna lie. But we all made it. No blood. No broken bones. Nothing.” He set his fork down as that faraway look relaxed his face and tensed it at the same time. He pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose.
When Tad brought his gaze back to hers, he carried agony in his eyes. “The clients even said I did everything right.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t. And the real kicker is I don’t know what I should’ve done differently.” He picked up his fork again, pushed his pancakes around in the purple syrup. “And that’s what keeps me up at night. It’s what paralyzes me when I get in the cockpit.” He snatched a piece of bacon and took a bite, glancing around the pancake house. “This place is real nice.” He looked at her for a split second, a smile gracing his mouth now. “Feels like you.”
Warmth gathered in Sandy’s face though his compliment hadn’t been terribly overt. He hadn’t even really said anything nice about her, specifically. She had put her stamp on the pancake house, closing it for a week while she repainted, and installed new carpet, and updated the light fixtures and décor.
Christmas in Three Rivers: Three Rivers Ranch Romance Novella Collection Page 8