“For the record, I don’t need an incentive. I’m more than happy to use you for your skills in bed. But if it’s a package deal . . . I’m not gonna say no,” she said.
“Drink your coffee, Carmody,” he said, smiling at her over the top of his mug.
She did as instructed and closed her eyes with bliss. “Oh, wow. That’s about a million times better than what I usually drink in the morning.”
“I believe you.”
She laughed, then the toast popped and she got busy with butter and raspberry jam.
They sat side by side at the counter, alternating between sips of coffee and mouthfuls of toast. When she was done, Sierra gave a happy sigh. “That was so good. Can we do it all over again? I have no idea why I’m so hungry this morning.”
She deliberately didn’t look at him directly as she spoke, but she could see his slow smile out of the corners of her eyes.
“Maybe you had really active dreams,” Garret said. “Now that I think about it, I think you might even have been talking in your sleep.”
“Really? Interesting. What was I saying?” she asked, using the tip of her index finger to collect the final few crumbs of toast off her plate.
“It was pretty incoherent. The only thing that was really clear was something like ‘Garret is a sex god.’”
He said it with an admirably straight face and Sierra burst out laughing.
“Pretty sure I didn’t say that in my sleep,” she said.
“I’m an ear witness, so I think my version of events is more credible.”
An ear witness. This man was both gorgeous and a goof ball. No wonder she couldn’t resist him. “Well, then, I stand corrected.”
She leaned over and kissed him, her mouth still curved into a smile. The morning after had never felt so natural, so easy before.
“I can drop you at the airport on the way to the office if you want,” he said when they finally came up for air.
“Okay, thanks. That’d be great.”
They talked casually on the way to the airport, and when they got there Garret spent nearly five minutes kissing her goodbye.
“You’re going to be so late for work,” she said when she finally opened the door and slipped out of the car.
“Totally worth it. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Have a good day.”
“I will. I’ll be thinking about you.”
Sierra stood next to the hangar and waited until he’d driven out of sight before turning away, aware she was probably wearing the biggest, goofiest smile on her face.
But so what? She liked the man. She loved the things he did to her when they were both naked, and she enjoyed spending time with him when they were clothed. He was special.
A keeper, some people might say.
But not you because you’re not the stupid sort of woman who goes racing ahead of the current state of play and sets herself up for an almighty fall. Am I right?
Sierra made an impatient noise. She wasn’t going to make apologies for the way she was feeling right now. She hadn’t felt this way about a man since . . . Well, she’d never felt this way about a man before. Garret was smart and funny, his body was crazy hot, he was a ridiculously generous lover, and he had a huge heart.
Just look at the burden he’d carried for thirteen years because he couldn’t bear to break his mother’s heart.
Thinking about their conversation last night and the invidious position Gideon Tate had put his sixteen-year-old son in all those years ago made Sierra’s blood boil over again. She’d been so angry on his behalf last night, so righteously outraged, she’d been hard-pressed not to get out of the bed and pace and rant and rave. But she’d seen how hard it was for Garret to share his father’s betrayal with her. She’d felt the tension in him, had noted the way he stayed focused on his hands rather than her face while he filled in the details for her.
He’d been embarrassed—ashamed—for his father, and it had broken her heart a little to see it. Even after all the shitty things Gideon had done, Garret still loved his father.
What a pity Gideon Tate was so terribly unworthy of Garret’s love and loyalty.
She’d always had a bit of a soft spot for the man, despite her brothers’ oft-stated dislike. He’d been good to her, graciously allowing Jack access to the Bell so he could teach her to fly in his spare time. She’d always known he was most likely motivated by guilt, but she was pragmatic enough—and desperate to fly enough—to accept the help he’d offered. As she’d said to Casey when he’d balked at the prospect of her working for the Tates, surely it was better that the man felt some sense of responsibility than nothing at all?
But now she knew Gideon’s first thought after the accident that killed her parents was for himself, and the cold-hearted, bone-deep self-interest inherent in that action made her feel queasy.
The night of the accident, one of the local policemen had been tasked with the grim duty of driving to the Carmody ranch and breaking the news to the family. She and Casey had been home alone, and she could still remember the way the police officer’s hands had shaken, the tremble in his voice, the paleness of his face as he’d explained the situation to her and Casey. He’d come directly from the accident site and the trauma of what he’d witnessed had been plain to see.
Yet Gideon Tate, who had endured the visceral shock of a head-on collision—explosive air bag deployment, glass shattering, metal tearing, the knowledge that two people had died, all of it—had such a powerfully developed instinct for self-preservation that his first act after notifying the authorities was to take action to save his reputation.
No shaking hands for him. He’d been all about damage control and covering his ass.
No wonder Garret was ashamed. She’d be ashamed, too, if one of her parents had been revealed to be so calculating and manipulative. It made her feel a little dirty that she’d allowed Gideon to salve his conscience by being generous toward her.
But none of that had anything to do with Garret, or how she felt about him. He was a very separate, distinct person from his father. A whole different type of man altogether.
Her thoughts kept circling around the subject throughout the day as she gave the Bell a deep clean, going over both the interior and exterior of the helicopter until it gleamed. She’d come to a few conclusions by the time Garret’s car pulled into the reserved spot behind the hangar late in the afternoon.
Shutting the cockpit door, she adjusted the brim on her ball cap as she watched Garret lock up the car. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face when he walked toward her, his eyes alight with pleasure at seeing her. At being with her again.
As if just being near her was enough to make him happy.
It was the way she felt, too, and when he reached the Bell they both simply stood and looked at each other, matching smiles on their faces.
“Good day?” she asked.
“Hell, no. It sucked big hairy ones. How about you?”
“I washed the Bell. Prepare yourself for a new level of excellence as you enter the passenger cabin.”
“Actually, I was thinking I might ride up front with you. If that’s okay?”
She blinked, thrown by the request. “Um, sure. If you like. It’s nowhere near as comfortable, though.”
“It has other attractions.”
She gave him a mock-stern look. “I’m on the clock right now, Mr. Tate. I’m going to ask you to remember that for the duration of our flight this afternoon.”
She said it lightly, but there was a thread of seriousness beneath her words and she knew Garret had received her message when he gave her a small, decisive nod.
“Totally understood.”
“It’s just I take the notion of having your life in my hands very seriously,” she explained.
Also, right at this moment, she was his employee, not his . . . whatever she was to him when she wasn’t on the job. It was important to her that they both understood there needed to be a firewall between the
two relationships.
“Let me assure you, I wholeheartedly respect and support that commitment,” he said.
“Then I’ll just stow your briefcase for you, since there’s no room for it up front.”
She held out her hand and he relinquished his bag to her. She made short work of securing it on the cargo hold, then opened the passenger door to the cockpit. “Make yourself at home,” she said, waving him onboard.
“Dangerous invitation, Ms. Carmody.”
She smiled and waited till he was seated and pulling on his seat belt before shutting the door. She was aware of him watching her as she slipped into the pilot’s seat, deftly maneuvering to accommodate the cyclic between her knees.
“Just need to run through a few checks before we start the engine,” she told him.
She went through her preflight routine, forcing herself to concentrate despite the potent distraction of having Garret close by, his amazing aftershave wrapping itself around her. Later, when she wasn’t in pilot-mode, she needed to ask him what it was called because it was fast becoming her kryptonite.
She collected her headset and Garret followed suit, picking up on her cue. Then she fired up the engine, and they both glanced overhead as the main rotor began to turn.
She checked with the control tower and received the all clear to take off. Then she glanced across at Garret, only to find him watching her with a decidedly wicked glint in his eye.
She didn’t need to ask to know what he was thinking, and it made her feel more than a little hot to know he was turned on by watching her work. Competency porn, she guessed. Whatever it was, she planned to exploit it at the first non-work-associated opportunity.
For now, they needed to get airborne.
She opened up the collective, and the Bell rose nose first. Once she was high enough, she hovered a moment and glanced back at the pad, then found her heading and opened up the throttle to her preset flight speed.
“That little hover back there. You always do that. What are you checking for?” Garret asked.
“Anything that shouldn’t be there, basically. Oil or fuel leaks. The engine’s under a lot of pressure when it starts up. Better to know early if there’s something not quite right.”
“Again, I applaud your commitment to safety,” Garret said.
“You ever been up front before?”
“Not since I was a kid.”
“Want me to walk you through it?”
“Only if it doesn’t interfere with anything.”
“I can chew gum and walk, don’t worry,” she said, shooting him an amused look.
She spent the next ten minutes giving him a tour of the cockpit, explaining the various instruments and displays and demonstrating how the cyclic and foot pedals worked. He asked smart questions and listened attentively to her answers, and when she was done he gave a small shake of his head.
“Honestly? It’s still completely baffling and damned intimidating. Can’t imagine having to keep it all straight.” There was admiration in his voice and the look he gave her, and she was powerless to control the flush that warmed her cheeks.
“Tell me about your day,” she said, wanting to distract them both from how self-conscious she was feeling.
“Pass. Next topic.”
The only other topic on her mind was the thing she’d been brooding over all day. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me last night,” she said, glancing across to catch his reaction.
“Thought you might have been.”
His smile dimmed a little, and she adjusted her grip on the cyclic.
“We don’t have to talk about that, either, if you don’t want to.”
“We can talk. What’s on your mind?”
“Your mom. I was thinking about what you said, about not wanting to be responsible for blowing everything up after the accident. You said it yourself last night—you’re in the habit of protecting her.”
He was frowning, but he nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
“The thing is, she’s not your responsibility. You know that, right?” His frown deepened, and she rushed back into speech. “I don’t mean that you don’t owe her care and consideration, but she’s an adult. She married your father. She’s lived with him for, what? Thirty years?”
“Something like that. And I know what you’re saying—Shit. Is that a hawk?” Garret’s voice was sharp with surprise, and she followed his sightline and spotted the bird riding a thermal fifty feet or so to their right.
“Cooper’s hawk. Female by the wingspan,” she said.
“Which has got to be at least forty inches,” he said, awestruck. “Amazing. How big do the males get?”
Sierra’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Believe it or not, the females are larger than the males.”
He laughed. “Of course they are. She’s beautiful.”
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds as they watched the hawk glide. Then, with an abruptness that stole Sierra’s breath, the hawk tucked her wings tight to her body and dived out of sight with ferocious speed.
“Something is about to become dinner,” Garret said.
She adjusted their heading minutely, conscious they’d need to start ascending soon to take their usual route through the mountains. After a moment or two, Garret picked up the conversational thread again.
“I appreciate what you’re saying about my mom. It’s a good point. She’s not stupid. You should see the way she’s pulled everything together so Dad can do his rehab at home. I just don’t want to add to her burdens.”
“Because thirteen years ago your father put her happiness in your hands, and you’re still holding it,” Sierra pointed out. “Let me put this another way—she’s part owner of the business, right? She needs to know what you’re dealing with. If shit gets real with the DA, she needs to be prepared.”
“Don’t even say that out loud,” Garret said, the frown back on his face.
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. And I appreciate you being in my corner.”
He sounded tense and unhappy and Sierra regretted bringing the subject up. He had so much going on. He didn’t need her second-guessing him and offering coaching from the sidelines.
“The thing is, I’m not sure how I’m going to tell her without letting it all out. You know?” Garret said suddenly, as though he couldn’t hold the words in any longer. “The way I feel about the mess I’ve uncovered at the company is all mixed up with the stuff from the accident. It’s the same arrogant, the-rules-don’t-apply-to-me bullshit from my father all over again, and I’m afraid I’m just gonna spray it all around like a fire hose once I get started.”
“Okay. Little thought experiment here—would that be such a bad thing? Haven’t you kept that secret long enough?”
Garret was already shaking his head. “I can’t. The way she is with Dad right now . . . She’s literally living for him, Sierra. It’s like she’s breathing every breath with him. If he makes any kind of recovery, it’s going to be because of her. Because she willed him to do it. If I tell her what he did, what he made me do . . .” He broke off, shaking his head, his gaze distant.
She opened her mouth to apologize again and he held up a hand, shooting her a warm but firm look. “Don’t apologize again. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world that you’re prepared to put up with all my drama right now.”
“It’s only because you’re so good in bed,” she said because she wanted to make him smile again.
“You’ve mentioned that a couple of times now. I’m starting to feel like I’ve got a reputation to live up to.”
“God, yes. I’ve been conditioned to expect multiple orgasms now. There’s no turning back.”
He laughed, and she shifted the subject, pointing out that they were about to start their run through the mountain pass. By mutual unspoken agreement they kept the conversation light for the rest of the flight. They touched down at the Tate ranch right on schedule and Sierra went through the shutdown procedu
re, flicking off switches and checking gauges. When she was done, and the main rotor was slowing overhead, she slipped her headset off.
Garret followed suit, running a hand over his hair where the headband had flattened it.
“Nice landing,” he said.
“What was it you said this morning? Nothing but the best?”
“Are you off the clock yet?” he asked, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
“Nope. Not until this baby is in the hangar.” She smiled at him, loving that he wanted her so badly.
“I can wait.”
He did, too, leaning against the frame of the hangar door and watching while she towed the Bell inside and tied the rotor down for the night. Once she was done she put the tow cart back on its charger and walked across to the beaten-up old desk, putting as much sass in her strut as she could. Parking her butt on the desk, she crossed her arms over her chest and smiled her best come-hither smile at Garret.
He pushed away from the open doorway and moved toward her with the focused intensity of a lion on the hunt. She spread her legs and he stepped between them, his head lowering toward hers. And then his mouth was on hers and she was being pushed back onto the desk with the ferocity of his need. Everything in her turned to molten liquid, her mind filling with erotic images as she imagined what might come next—him stripping off her shirt, her pulling at his belt and his fly, all the pesky pieces of clothing they needed to dispose of to get what they both so desperately wanted.
She was sliding her hands onto his belt buckle when he tensed and lifted his head. Which was when she heard the sound of a car engine.
“Pretty sure that’s Mom,” he said regretfully.
“Well . . . damn,” Sierra sighed.
He laughed, reaching out to run his thumb across her pouting bottom lip. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night. Pack to stay in Helena again, okay? How does two nights sound?”
“You sure you’re up to that?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“You just worry about your pretty little self.” Then he kissed her once, hard, and stepped away. She could see the frustration in him, in the way he smoothed his shirt over his flat belly and adjusted himself.
More Than a Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 3) Page 18