Finding Forever — Preview
Chapter 1
Charlotte Ashton
After parking in the lot two blocks from the downtown university offices, I stopped by the coffee shop and ordered two lattes. One for me and one for my best friend Zoe.
While I waited, I stood at the window and watched the mid-morning traffic. Mostly foot traffic. Some cars stopped at the traffic light. People waiting at the bus stop.
A food truck parked across the street at the corner had a line six deep. Their breakfast burritos were well worth the wait. Zoe and I ate there at least once a week. Sometimes two. Sometimes for breakfast, but usually for lunch.
The end of August, the beginning of the school year, was my favorite time of year.
Anything was possible.
I had one class this term, an art lab really. So far six students had signed up. Advanced students who didn’t need much more than some guidance and inspiration. I would take them down to the point before it got too cold. Let then spend some time capturing the rivers and the hills. Some would add people to their paintings. Some would not.
Even though I only taught one class a semester now, my love of the beginning of the Fall semester hadn’t faded.
New year. New school clothes. New school supplies.
Maybe not the school clothes and school supplies so much anymore, but it was still a brand new year. Anything was possible.
Even though I worked all year round now, I still got that feeling of excited anticipation this time of year.
Maybe I’d stop by one of the shops after work. See about getting a new outfit. Maybe a new jacket.
We still had a week before classes actually started. This week was for meetings. For getting everything set up and ready.
“Char.” I’d gone to school with Bradley. He owned the coffee shop now, but you wouldn’t know it. He looked like just another barista and worked harder than any of his employees.
“Thanks, Brad.” I took the coffee he’d packed up in a little cardboard carrier.
“I threw in a couple of muffins for you,” he said with a little wink.
“Aw. Thanks Brad.” I’d add a tip to his virtual tip jar when I got to the office.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yet bet.”
I stepped outside into the warm sunlight. In typical Pittsburgh fashion, the sun was warm and the breeze was cool. The skies were blue with just a few white wispy clouds.
Perfect weather.
Going up the three brick steps, I opened the heavy wooden door to the university’s downtown office—an old sturdy brick building. One of those big four story historical buildings that had been here for centuries. The kind of building that had been built to last.
Even though it had been purchased by and repurposed for the university, it remained protected by the historical society. As such, it had no elevator. I walked up the eight flights of stairs. I went up and down several times a day and deemed it my exercise.
Zoe wasn’t in yet, so I left her coffee and muffin on her desk. Before I sat down at my own desk, Dr. Reginald Jones stepped out of his office. He was a lean man, in his fifties, always clean shaven. Always wore a gray suit and tie that matched the streaks in his hair that some men had to pay good money for. He was a single man and we had never known him to date anyone. He was the most private person I knew and yet faculty and students liked him. It was doubtless due to his accommodating nature. If he could make something right for someone, he would do it.
“Good morning, Charlotte,” he said, removing his glasses to look at me.
“Good morning,” I said as I set my coffee and muffin on my desk.
Dr. Jones, Dean of the college of Arts and Sciences, was not known for his overt friendliness. In fact, most days, I didn’t even see him other than in passing.
Something was different today.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“I need to talk to you about something,” he said. “You got a minute?”
“Of course.”
I unwrapped my leather book bag off my shoulders and set it on my desk. Then, grabbing up my coffee cup, I took it with me as I followed Dr. Jones into his office.
My stomach felt tight even though I couldn’t think of anything I had done that might get me in trouble. It had been a quiet summer.
Maybe he wanted to change my teaching schedule. If someone quit at the last minute, he’d need someone to cover their classes. That had happened before and we all pulled together.
If someone had quit, I hadn’t heard about it yet.
Still trying to sort through what might have happened, I sat down across from him.
Dr. Jones’ desk never had anything on it other than what he needed at any particular moment. He even kept his computer on the console behind him when he wasn’t using it.
Right now all he had was his cell phone sitting on its charger on his desk.
As he checked something on his phone, I took the first sip of my coffee.
If someone had quit, Dr. Jones would have met with all of us at once. Or, even more likely, he would have sent an email. This had to be something more personal.
Just an assignment. It was just something he needed me to do.
I had no reason to be nervous.
It was just Dr. Jones usually sent his assignments via email and he wasn’t a fan of meetings. Another reason why the faculty and staff liked him.
He steepled his fingers together and looked at me.
“Do you remember reading about the university adding on some satellite campuses?”
“Yes. Of course.” An assignment. “I didn’t think that had gone anywhere.”
“They’re still working on it. But in the meantime, they have decided to do a pilot study as such.”
“A pilot study.”
“Most of the details are worked out and they have a dozen students signed up to participate. To take classes.”
Why did I not know about this?
As the assistant director of the college of arts and sciences, I should know these things.
I lifted my chin a notch. He was telling me now.
“What can I do?” I asked with more than a little relief. I could handle assignments. I was good at assignments.
And I had a new graduate student named William starting tomorrow. I knew William. He was a motivated and dependable student. Whatever it was, we could get it done.
“The pilot study is in Whiskey Springs, Colorado.”
“Oh.” I sat back. “Why?”
Colorado was a long way from Pittsburgh. A very long way.
“We had an unexpected benefactor throw some money at the program. Enough money to make things happen. He specifically requested Whiskey Springs.”
“Why?”
Dr. Jones waved a hand in no particular direction and sat back in his own chair, lacing his hands behind his back.
“So what do we need to do?” I asked, straightening in my chair. “Secure a location? Scheduling?” These were all things I excelled at. My scheduling skills had gotten me promoted from associate professor to the youngest assistant director of the college of arts of sciences.
Shaking his head, Dr. Jones braced his hands on his clutter free desk.
“I need you to go. You’ve been chosen to run the program.”
“Me? Why?”
“The benefactor specifically requested you.”
“I don’t understand.” I pressed a hand against my brow.
“Before you ask,” he asked. “The benefactor asked to remain anonymous.”
“Why?” I asked, beginning to sound like a broken record.
I held up a hand. “I know. You can’t answer that.”
“Wish I could.”
“So it’s settled?”
“Yes.”
“When do I leave?”
“In two days.”
“Is this up for discussion?” I shook my head as I asked. I already knew the answer.
We wouldn’t be sitting here having this discussion if it was.
Chapter 2
Bradford Torres
After doing an external check of the Phenom, I boarded the private jet and sat down in the pilot’s seat to start the preflight checklist.
The scent of jet fuel blended with the scent of new leather. The Phenom was new with just a few miles on it. I was about to add a few more.
I was early.
It was that perfect time of day when the sky lightened before the sun came over the horizon.
The sky was clear with just a few wispy clouds scattered here and there.
I opened up my iPad and checked the radar. Smooth sailing from here to Whiskey Springs.
This was a quick turnaround from my flight in from Houston last night. Fairly last minute, but I was used to that. Last minute was my way of life.
But like most pilots, I rarely turned down a flight.
The saying I’d heard around the Skye Travels office was that flights were like catnip for pilots. Just dangle a flight in front of us and we’d follow you anywhere.
It wasn’t all that far from the truth.
This particular flight was different though.
Noah was housing me in Whiskey Springs until further notice.
Further notice usually meant until someone needed a flight out.
At any rate, I’d brought my suitcase packed with enough clothes to last me a couple of weeks.
I liked to be prepared.
I checked the manifest.
Two souls listed in addition to mine.
Dr. Charlotte Ashton and William Barnes.
With everything done, I was ready to go. I sent my parents a text telling them where I would be. It was mostly just a habit. It wasn’t that they were concerned about my whereabouts.
My mother, a writer, had hit the literary jackpot with her cozy mystery series. She and my dad had taken advantage of the situation as most people would, but not like most people, who could suddenly work from anywhere.
They had packed up and moved to Australia, leaving me and my sister here in the states. I halfway—maybe more than halfway—expected my sister to follow them, but she hadn’t yet.
Me? No way. I was an American boy through and through.
Besides, I had the best job I could imagine flying for Skye Travels. It was hard to get on with Noah Worthington and I wasn’t about to give that up just because my parents were having some kind of midlife crisis.
Still. They were my parents and I liked to keep them informed of my whereabouts.
I checked the time. My passengers would be arriving at any time.
I went to the door of the cabin and looked out. The sun was warm and the breeze was cool. That was one of my favorite things about northern climates.
Born and bred in Houston, I was accustomed to the heat. Didn’t mean I liked it.
It was hot from March until October. Sometimes longer.
Anytime I could get away from that heat, I considered myself fortunate.
A taxi drove out on the tarmac toward the airplane.
I didn’t see that very often. Typically my passengers arrived in limos. A person who could afford to fly private could afford a limo driver.
The taxi stopped next to the plane and three doors opened. The driver and the two back doors.
One had to be the young man, William. The woman who got out on the other side had to Dr. Ashton.
Not at all what I was expecting. When I’d been told they were affiliated with a university, I’d pictured someone much different.
I expected a couple of middle-aged people.
I had not expected one of my passengers to look like a fairy princess.
Not that she was dressed like a princess. She was wearing a pencil skirt with a matching blazer. Very professional.
But it was her slim figure and her hair that gave her away.
She was no ordinary university administrator or faculty. Not an ordinary person, in fact.
She had barely stepped out of the taxi when it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I wanted to date her.
The taxi driver pulled three suitcases out of the trunk.
The young lady, Dr. Charlotte Ashton, already had a leather book bag over her shoulders. Now she was rolling two suitcases toward the plane.
This would not do.
I bounded down the stairs and headed straight for her.
“Let me help you with these,” I said, taking her two suitcases from her.
“Thank you,” she said with obvious relief.
“I can take your bag, too,” I said, holding out a hand.
“It’s okay…” But she pulled it off her shoulders and handed it to me.
The taxi driver got back inside his car and took off. Just one of many reasons why my passengers hired drivers. A good driver always made sure their passenger not only made it to the airplane, but that all their luggage got loaded up properly.
Securing her bag over my own shoulders, I rolled her luggage to the plane and, while she watched, I slid it into holding.
Turning around, thinking to introduce myself, I found Charlotte with her back to me, talking quietly with William.
William was younger and had the lean look of a student. Carrying a backpack, he wore blue jeans and a lightweight jacket that looked at least one size too big for him. Taller than Charlotte, he bent his head close as they spoke.
“Ready to come aboard?” I asked, as I neared them.
“Yes. Thank you.” Charlotte smiled. The smile lit up her whole face. My gaze was drawn first to her bow shaped lips and perfect white teeth.
Her green eyes, reminding me of a verdant forest at night with moonlight glowing through the leaves, were framed with dark, thick lashes.
With high cheekbones, her features were delicate, like the fairy princess that had been my first impression.
Although she wore heels, she was a full head shorter than me.
A gust of wind caught a strand of hair and tossed it across her face.
Tucking it back, she licked her lips.
“We’re ready,” she said.
Reaching the steps leading up into the airplane, I held out a hand to assist her up. I’d done it a thousand times for a thousand different ladies.
She put her delicate hand in mine and I knew this time was different.
Chapter 3
Charlotte
Some might think it odd that since I had two brothers and one brother-in-law who were private pilots for Skye Travels that I would have had the opportunity to fly on private jets.
Such an assumption, though, would be erroneous. I had never had the occasion to fly on an airplane, private or commercial.
I was the quiet one of the family. I had one younger sister and three older brothers. All of them extraverted with strong personalities.
Since I preferred to stay to myself, spending my days drawing and painting mostly, when I wasn’t at work, I tended to recede into the background.
I didn’t mind. But here I was, a twenty-eight-year-old who had never flown in a private airplane. The worst part? Everyone assumed that I had.
I could have if I had pushed it even a little. But my family didn’t push me. They left me to my own devices. So I had gotten my Ph.D. and now I helped others achieve their dream of painting and drawing.
Art was my life.
At the moment, however, I found myself in a rather odd place. I knew all about flying. I listened at the dinner table when my brothers talked about what they did.
Standing here beside the airplane, even William, my newly assigned graduate assistant and former student, assumed that I had experience in flying.
Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t a twenty-eight-year-old Ph.D., assistant director of the college of arts and sciences have experience flying on an airplane?
I decided in one of those split-second moments when such things had to be decided that I wouldn’t reveal my inexperience with flying. With what I knew about flying, it would be easy enough to pull off.
Should be.
Looking up toward the airplane door, though, I experienced a wave of anxiety. The steps were not what I had expected. They were narrow and they did not look nearly sturdy enough. Besides that, I was wearing heels.
Why hadn’t I known not to wear heels?
Perhaps I should have consulted with my sister who was married to a pilot or even one of my two sisters-in-law married to pilots. They would have been happy to share their knowledge with me.
It was simply my lack of experience with flying. I was like the person who knew all about art. Had even seen photographs of great pieces of art. But had never seen one of those paintings in person. Never saw the texture or the layers on great paintings. And certainly had never picked up a paint brush.
The pilot came to my rescue. Yet again.
He had taken my luggage and stashed it in the plane’s holding area. He had also taken my leather book bag. Under normal circumstances, my book bag wasn’t a problem. But today I had an iPad, a notebook computer, and a ton of art supplies—in addition to the ones in my luggage, and a couple of books.
To say the least, it was heavy. It was with utmost relief that I handed it over to him.
And now, looking up the narrow steps to the door of the airplane, the pilot came to my rescue a second time.
Deep in my own thoughts, as I typically was, I had barely noticed him.
But when I put my hand in his, I looked at him. I really looked at him.
He was dressed in a black pilot’s uniform—slacks and a blazer—and a cap.
He was a head taller than me and he was handsome in a city boy way with a touch of ruggedness. High cheekbones. Lips curved with amusement. But no one would ever accuse him of being a metro male. He didn’t look like he had shaved this morning. He wore that slightly rugged five o’clock shadow and he wore it with style.
But his eyes stopped me in my tracks. His blue eyes grabbed hold of me and pulled me right in. They sparkled like a clear blue sky after a rain.
His hand was strong and any doubts I had about my ability to navigate the stairs in my heels vanished.
“Whoever designed these stairs didn’t think about heels,” he said.
“No,” I said, smiling back. “They didn’t, did they?”
“You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
With one hand in his, the other on the steel railing, I stepped onto the first step. As I stepped to the second, true to his word, he was right behind me.
I reached the top of the stairs and stepped inside the airplane cabin.
It smelled new. Like a new car.
“You can sit anywhere you like,” he said.
“Okay.”
William followed, taking the first seat he came to and immediately turned his attention to his phone.
Was I the only one slightly intimidated by this experience?
I sat down across the aisle from William and watched the pilot press a button to bring up the stairs, then secure the door.
He turned around, glanced at William, then smiled at me.
“Come with me,” he said, holding out a hand again.
“Why?”
“I have a much better seat for you than this.”
I stood up and put my hand in his.
This was becoming a habit.
And I didn’t even know his name.
Want to keep reading?
Reserve your early copy through the Kickstarter
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/kathrynkaleigh/finding-forever-brand-new-sweet-contemporary-romance-novel