“I just need them to sell their property,” I said. 

My cat, Medley, twitched his ears and blinked at me.

“I know. You agree completely,” I said, tapping my pen against my desk. 

Swiveling around in my chair to watch the traffic below on the Interstate 610 Loop, I slipped my sneakers back on. Traffic was backed up, barely moving. The evening sunlight reflecting off the hundreds of windshields. 

Moving my office to my twenty-sixth-floor condo had been one of the best decisions I had ever made. When I had leased it, I’d known the second bedroom would be useful one day. I just hadn’t known for what at the time. 

Sitting in traffic for hours a day was a huge waste of time that I didn’t miss even a little.

Turning my phone over, I checked the time. 

Four thirty. That explained the traffic. Lost in my work, I hadn’t even realized the afternoon had passed. The last time I’d paid attention to the time had been at eight o’clock in the morning when I sat down at my desk to work.

I hadn’t been working here in my home office long. Two weeks since I’d left the safety of the corporate office to stay home and work. I still had to go in to the office once a week, but that was so much better. So many fewer hours commuting.  

I still had boxes of books and papers I’d brought with me stacked along the walls. 

My home office had floor to ceiling windows with motorized blinds that I never lowered. I watched the sunrise while I had my first cup of coffee and then at night, I looked out over the city of Houston with the skyline miles away, but still distinctive. 

I especially liked the view from my bedroom where I fell asleep watching cars’ headlights flowing steadily. Since I was a little myopic, the lights glowed softly and sometimes I imagined the cars—actually on overpasses—traveling up and down mountainsides in and around Whiskey Springs where I had spent the summers of my youth. 

At the sound of a message popping onto my computer screen, I swiveled back around and clicked ACCEPT. 

My boss. Clara Miller was a boss that no one liked. Everyone at the office was certain that she had been a mean girl growing up. A mean girl who never grew out of her mean girl phase. 

Another reason to be away from the office. Being away did not, however, keep her from pestering me. Anytime she took a whim to check in on me, she expected me to be sitting at my desk. 

She had checked in several times a day when I first started working from home. Then, I guess she got bored with it since I was always at my desk where I was supposed to be and only checked once a day. This was the third time today.

My psychology professor would call it spontaneous recovery. 

“Hi Ms. Miller,” I said. She wanted us to call her Clara, but I insisted on calling her by her last name. 

“Ava,” she said without preamble. “Where are you on buying the Sterling building?”

Nowhere. “I’m working on it,” I said. 

“So no progress,” Ms. Clara Miller said. 

If she hadn’t been looking right at me, I would have made a face. Instead, I smiled. 

“Some progress,” I said, holding up a legal notepad where I had scribbled copious notes. “Several dead ends, unfortunately.”

“How hard can it be to find the owner of one house in Houston?”

Harder than you think. “It’s hidden under a closely held corporation. I’ve gotten that far, but it’s not easily accessible.”

“I let you work from home because you’re good at what you do.” Ms. Miller glared at me through the computer. 

How was I supposed to answer that?

“I’ll figure it out,” I said.

“If I recall, you told me the same thing this time yesterday.”

She wasn’t wrong. I had indeed told her the same thing yesterday. 

So I didn’t answer.

“I’ll find out,” Ms. Miller said. “And when I do, I want you to bring the sale home.”

She logged off without so much as a see ‘ya later. 

The wicked witch of the west. That’s what some of the other office workers called her. I tried to avoid name calling. I liked to hold myself to a higher standard.

It wasn’t my fault the nickname came to mind at the moment. 

A nickname like that had to be earned, after all.

I closed my computer and to go downstairs for a bottle of water. Medley jumped off his place behind my computer and followed me downstairs. Behind my computer was his favorite place to spend his days sleeping. It was almost like he was silently taunting Ms. Miller. She would never know he was there. It would be our little secret. 

I’d been on this quest to find out the identity of the owner of the Sterling building for two days. Clara Miller wasn’t going to just come back with it today.

She’d encounter all the same dead ends I had. And, having very few interruptions, I had the advantage, Ms. Miller notwithstanding. Ms. Miller, no doubt had lots of interruptions. 

As I pulled a tumbler from the cabinet, Medley sat down and looked up at me. 

“Low blood sugar?” I asked.

He meowed once.

As I pulled out a can of cat food and popped the lid, he purred and walked around me.

I set his plate of food down and filled my own tumbler with ice and water from the tap. 

While I drank the cold water, Medley lapped up his gravy and salmon. 

I glanced at my sports watch. I needed to get in some steps. But first maybe I’d order in.

The kitchen was a place for warming food and feeding Medley.

As far as actual cooking went, I figured that’s what restaurants were for. Restaurants were the experts and they had the bandwidth for food prep. I did not. 

First I would have to go to the market. Then I’d have to spend hours prepping. And cooking. Or baking. Or whatever the recipe required. Speaking of recipes, I’d have to find one of those first. 

I liked the way my kitchen looked. Clean. Nothing on the cabinets other than a vase of fresh white daisies and one of those big jar candles with three wicks that I lit, usually at night.

I sat down at one of the bar stools and opened my phone to flip through my favorite delivery places trying to decide what to order for dinner.

A text message from Clara Miller came in interrupting my task.

She followed me everywhere.

Clara Miller: I found the owner.

ME: No way. How?

Clara Miller: I have my ways. 

I didn’t believe her. There were too many dead ends. No way she hadn’t run up against them.

ME: Who?

When the answer came, I was glad I was sitting down. 

Clara Miller: Rebecca Devereaux

I stared at the phone.

Clara Miller: Rebecca Devereaux of Maple Creek. You probably know her. 

Of course I knew Rebecca Devereaux of Maple Creek. The irony of all ironies. I had grown up in the small town of Maple Creek just north of Houston.

Maple Creek was a lot like a smaller—much smaller—small town version of The Woodlands in that it was well… wooded. It was different from The Woodlands though in that everyone knew everyone else. 

My high school graduating class had consisted of eighty-six people. Eighty-six. I had been valedictorian. Other than being head of the journalism club, I hadn’t taken part in any extracurricular activities. I had not been a cheerleader or in the band. Instead, I had taken college courses starting my junior year.

I had my MBA by the time I turned twenty-years-old.

They said I was precocious. I saw myself as being driven and goal-oriented.

I left Maple Creek, happy to see it in my rear-view mirror. 

And I had not been back since the day I’d left for college.

I’d been raised by my aunt and uncle after my mother abandoned me as an infant. 

My aunt made sure I was fed and clothed and taken care of, but she left no doubt in my mind that the only reason she allowed me to stay was because of my father. 

My father’s sister was my mother and my aunt, even though she never came right out and said it, didn’t like the idea of another mouth to feed who wasn’t her own flesh and blood. 

She had three boys of her own and she doted on them. I was an inconvenience.

Somewhere along my teenage years, I’d made a vow to myself that I would never be someone else’s burden.

But that wasn’t the only significant thing about going back to Maple Creek after all these years. 

There was most definitely more.

 

CHAPTER 2

Austin Devereaux

 

I turned off the autopilot and prepared to land the sleek Phenom airplane. 

My copilot, a Labrador retriever with a sleek black coat, was on alert, watching out the front of the airplane. 

He was a good copilot. Didn’t require me to make small talk and didn’t complain. 

It was going to be a visual landing with no control tower to direct me in and no staff on the ground. 

A perfect day for a flight. Cumulous clouds here and there dotting an otherwise clear blue sky. 

I saw the postage stamp of a runway and steeled myself. 

It wasn’t the small deserted runway that bothered me. 

I’d landed on smaller runways many times over.

As a pilot for Skye Travels, I went wherever I was needed and today I was needed to deliver a guide dog.

Although I was a pilot for Skye Travels, I worked specifically for Ainsley Worthington. Daughter of the founder of Skye Travels, she had started her own company beneath the umbrella of Skye Travels. 

She delivered animals, mostly guide dogs to people who needed them. 

I found it to be a rewarding job in and of itself on top of the already rewarding job of just getting to be a pilot. 

I’d known I wanted to be a pilot since I was five-years-old when my grandfather had taken me to the Houston airport and we’d spent the better part of a day just watching airplanes take off and land. It had probably only been a couple of hours, but to me as a five-year-old, it had seemed like forever. 

I may have only been five, but I still remembered what he had told me.

“Learn to fly airplanes, Grandson, and the world will open up to you in every way. You’ll always be able to get work and you can go anywhere you want to go.”

Grandpa, although he had always wanted to fly airplanes, had never done it. He’d stayed far too busy building and running his real estate company. He’d been a passenger on his share of airplanes though. Commercial planes. Private planes. 

He was one of the most successful men I’d ever known. Much like Noah Worthington, the founder and owner of Skye Travels, the company I worked for. 

They didn’t make men like them anymore. The Greatest Generation. They were loyal to their country and they did what they needed to do to be successful.

Somehow they seemed to have more hours in their days than ordinary people. Or maybe they were just better at delegating. Grandpa always had time for me. That was something I cherished more than anything from my childhood. 

I’d never gotten to ask my grandfather his secret for success. Something I regretted to this day.

But Maple Creek had been home. My mother, Grandpa’s daughter, had married a small-town man and never looked back. They had raised me and my four siblings right here in Maple Creek and no one had known just how successful my Grandpa had been.

Hell, I hadn’t known it until I was in college after Grandpa had passed. 

I’d been just an ordinary boy growing up in a small-town. 

Ordinary until that day in seventh grade when I had fallen head over heels in love with Ava Whitmore.

I remembered the day like it was yesterday. She’d kissed me. 

It had been what my teachers called “Retro Day.” I vaguely remembered her wearing rolled up blue jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. But the image burned into my brain was of her wearing deep red lipstick, the kind that had that distinctive scent found only in the reddest lipstick. It was one of those scents I would never stop associating with her. She’d kissed me on the cheek, leaving behind a lip imprint that I hadn’t washed off until the next morning. And then only because it was smeared and I had to go to school. 

For a thirteen-year-old boy being kissed by the hottest thirteen-year-old girl in the school changed my life forever.

She had, metaphorically of course, taken me by the shoulders and pointed me in what I now knew was the right direction.

I’d followed her to college, but she’d been so far ahead of me, I had been left in her dust.

She was taking college classes junior year so by the time we started college, she was a junior and I was still a freshman.

By then it didn’t matter though. 

By then we—meaning she—had already deemed it impossible for us to have a real relationship.

I had no reason to be nervous coming back to Maple Creek. There was one thing for certain. Ava Whitmore would not be here. She had left Maple Creek and had never looked back. 

But anytime I came back to visit, which was rare, I felt enveloped in memories of Ava. Every step I took in the little town came with a memory of Ava. 

I might have left Maple Creek behind, but I had never stopped being in love with Ava Whitmore. 

There were two constants in my life. One was flying. And second was that Ava Whitmore would always be the love of my life.

It didn’t even matter that I hadn’t seen her in just over five years.

AVAILABLE: November 1, 2024

 

STOLEN DANCES AND BIG CITY CHANCES

 

CHAPTER 1

Anastasia Devereaux 

 

The Sterling House was an iconic old-money Texas-style mansion nestled among flashy skyscrapers in downtown Houston. Texas-style in its 6000 square feet size. 

It was decorated for fall which meant bushels of yellow and gold chrysanthemums in vases, tall and small, scattered all around the house.

Tall white pillar candles flickered on the fireplace mantle, the coffee table, and on wall sconces. 

The music room was large enough for two elegant chandeliers, lights flickering, one on either side. Above the chandeliers, the ceiling was painted with golden etchings. Below the chandeliers, the polished marble floors reflected the flickering lights. 

A lovely young lady in a formal maroon dress sat at the grand piano along with the rest of a four-piece orchestra. Their music echoed through the house. 

Silvery sparkling maroon velvet curtains hung at the tall windows with darker burgundy toppers. 

It was my brother Austin’s wedding day. A beautiful day in the middle of October. A good time to get married in Texas—just after the weather stopped being miserably hot. 

Not that he would notice the weather. He didn’t see anything other than his bride. Everything was as it should be. 

The morning ceremony was followed by a day of celebration before they left for the airport to board a plane for Paris.

I didn’t envy him. He was only one year older than me, so we were almost like twins. I was happy for him and I liked his wife, Ava. Austin and Ava had dated in high school, then after going their separate ways for a few years, had taken no time picking up where they had left off. Engaged in December. Married in October. 

The Sterling House was crowded with formally dressed men and women, boys and girls. They came for Austin’s wedding, but I suspect many also came to see Sterling House. 

Our grandparents had built it in another century and lived there until Grandpa had passed away. Grandma hung on, living here for another couple of years by herself, but she missed her family and had moved to Maple Creek to live with her son and daughter-in-law. 

Investors had swarmed to buy the property for anything from a parking garage to a shopping mall. She, however, had gone a different direction. She had gotten the house registered with the National Association of Historic Places. Now Austin and Ava’s wedding launched what would be a premium venue for weddings and other occasions.

As I walked passed an ornate gilded framed mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. Recently graduated from college, I hadn’t quite given up my wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts. 

But today I wore a long chiffon maroon dress. And high heels.

Ava had picked me to be her maid-of-honor. Ava didn’t have any family. Our family had been her family since she started dating my brother the first time. Back when they were in high school. I’d missed her during those years when they’d gone their separate ways. 

Even now, the happy couple was doing something with cake. 

I needed a break.

I stepped outside into the familiar backyard. We’d visited Grandma and Grandpa several times a year back when we were growing up. 

It always seemed like the opposite of how most people lived. Most people went to the country to visit their grandparents and lived in the city. We lived in the country and visited our grandparents in the city.

We did all sorts of things in the city. We went to museums, plays, and baseball games. I had a particular fondness for downtown Houston, but I never pictured myself living here.

I preferred the quietness of the country. At least that was my excuse. The truth was, the thought of living alone made me sad. 

I loved living with my family. Besides Austin, we had an older brother named Jonathan who was an overseas pilot. Jonathan was about seven years older than me and he only came home on occasions. Like today.

We all knew he was our parents’ favorite child. It was okay. We all understood. I always saw Jonathan as being mysterious and interesting. Hard not to favor the mysterious and interesting one. 

Then there were our two younger siblings. Theodore and Gwen. They were still in high school. A different generation. Our parents, it seemed, had their children in blocks of two, except for Jonathan. Maybe that was another thing that made him so different. 

The maple trees had new green leaves. In fall, those leaves turned a beautiful red. Today in place of the bright red leaves, were tiny red twinkly lights. Someone must have come up with the idea of the red lights in place of the red leaves.

Out here the music sounded different. Faint. Like it was far away. And the conversations were barely audible at all. 

If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine myself back here as a child. When we weren’t what Grandma called getting cultured, we played. Playing out here was different from playing at home because out here we were surrounded by skyscrapers. 

At night, especially, the skyline around us was awesome. Every time the Astros had a home game, there were fireworks right there where we could watch them from our bedroom windows. 

Even now I could hear the sounds of the traffic going up and down the streets. A police car, siren blaring, passed by, heading somewhere fast. 

Without the sounds of the city, it would be easy to forget that Sterling House was in the middle of Houston. 

It was for sure a different world from Maple Creek where we lived. In Maple Creek, the night sounds consisted of dogs and sometimes wolves howling in the distance. Crickets and owls. Not to mention the silent blinking of the lightning bugs. 

There were no lightning bugs in downtown Houston. Not tonight anyway. 

My grandmother stepped outside. 

“There you are,” she said. “I wondered where you got off to.”

Grandma was an elegant woman in her sixties. Elegant, but easy to talk to. No one would ever suspect that she lived in a mansion in downtown Houston. 

“I just needed to take a moment,” I said. “To catch my breath.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s crowded in there, isn’t it?”

“Very,” I said.

“You know, Anastasia, weddings are supposed to be a good occasion for you to meet someone.”

“Someone?” I asked with a little smile.

“Surely your brother has a nice friend you could spend some time with.”

“I’m okay.”

A red bird flew past and landed on the birdfeeder in the backyard.

“I thought you brought all the bird feeders when you moved in with us,” I said. 

“I must have missed one,” Grandma said. “I worry about you.”

I turned to face my grandmother. 

“Why? Why are you worried about me?”

“You’re what? Twenty-three?”

“Twenty-four.”

“It seems like you should have started dating by now.”

I laughed. “I’ve had dates Grandma.”

“Yes. Yes. I know.” She looked out across the twinkling lights of the maple trees. “But you should have a boyfriend by now. Someone to start sharing memories with.”

Grandma sounded wistful. She and Grandpa had gotten married when they were barely even legally old enough to marry at all. She had memories with him for probably fifty years.

I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her that people didn’t do that anymore. That most young people waited until they were in their thirties to get married. By today’s standards, I was still young. 

Jonathan was thirty and he didn’t even have a girlfriend, at least not that I knew of.

Austin was getting married, but he should have married Ava years ago. They had been fated together since they were in seventh grade. They were an anomaly. 

The music changed and people were starting to dance.

“Do something for me?” Grandma asked.

“Sure, Grandma. I’ll do anything for you.”

She linked her arm with mine.

“Let’s go back inside. And you.” She patted my arm. “You find a nice young man to dance with.”

“I don’t want to dance, Grandma.”

“Just one,” she insisted. “Just dance with one young man. I want to see you having some fun.”

“I am having fun.”

She gave me a look.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see if there is anyone to dance with. But I can’t make any promises that there will be anyone.”

“Just look,” Grandma said. “Looking is a good place to start.”

“I’ll look,” I said, reluctantly.

“Good girl,” she said. “Now let’s go mingle.”

I much preferred my own company, but I didn’t want to disappoint my grandmother. 

I would go and talk to my brother and his new wife. That was about as close to mingling as I wanted to get right now. 

Hopefully, my grandmother would find something else to distract herself with and forget about me and my lack of social interaction.

I did not need a boyfriend right now. My career was just getting started. That was how it was done now. Grandma wouldn’t understand.

 

CHAPTER 2

Christopher Taylor

 

I wasn’t supposed to be at what they were calling the wedding of the season. 

One of the pilots who worked for Skye Travels, specifically for Noah Worthington’s daughter, was getting married. 

Noah Worthington was the founder and owner of Skye Travels, the private airline company he had started with just one little Cessna airplane. 

It had grown quickly and was now a multi-billion dollar company. He hired his own family without shame. The only thing was they had to do in order to get hired was to be better than anyone else. 

Since I was in no way, shape, or form related to the Worthington family, I considered myself fortunate to land a job flying for Skye Travels. 

I was the only one in my graduating class fortunate to be hired by Noah Worthington. And I literally was hired by Noah himself. He might be getting up in age, but he still personally interviews every single pilot who goes to work for his company.

At any rate, I was the newest hire at Skye Travels and my mentor asked me to come along since his girlfriend was out of town. 

I was hardly in a position to tell him I couldn’t go. Not when I was just starting a brand new job. 

So that’s how I found myself at Sterling House, wearing a rented tuxedo, feeling exceptionally uncomfortable around hundreds of people I did not know, most of whom I would never see again.

I was just a regular guy—a pilot. I didn’t attend fundraisers or other soirees unless I went as a client’s guest. So I chalked today up to a work function.

The Sterling House was on the National Register of Historical places or some such. It belonged to Austin Devereaux’s grandmother. 

I’d lived in Houston my whole life, but I’d only been downtown a handful of times and I certainly didn’t know that there was a mansion nestled right downtown among the high rises.

Like the other pilots, I drank a sparkling water in lieu of alcohol. I had a flight tomorrow and Noah Worthington had a very strict bottle to throttle policy.

One drink would get a pilot a warning. Two would get him suspended. And three would get him a trip to rehab. Or so I had been told.

I had a feeling getting fired was somewhere in there, especially for new guys.

So I stuck to sparkling water and no one thought a thing about it. 

The little orchestra was set up in the music room, their music light and airy. It was happy music for a happy day.

“Come on,” Frederick, my mentor said. “I’ll introduce you to Austin.”

Frederick had been a pilot for Skye Travels for right at eight years. He knew his way around the family and a fancy wedding at a fancy house didn’t intimidate him one bit, even if he was more like me than he might want to admit.

Frederick was what I would call a flashy guy. He always wore a flirty smile, especially when he was around the ladies and he walked with what could only be called a swagger. A pilot’s swagger. 

Even now as we walked across the ballroom, he attracted attention. Every single female we passed checked him out. I kept track. 

It wasn’t that I cared. I was not a playboy. I’d had a couple of girlfriends, but I didn’t date around. I didn’t have a girl in every port or anything like I happened to know that Frederick did. 

To each his own. 

Although we were different in that way, we were alike in other ways. Like me, Frederick was an uptown boy. Uptown was by far a rougher area than downtown. The opposite was nothing more than a misperception.

“I think I met Austin once,” I said, but I went along anyway.

“You can meet his new wife then,” Frederick said, making his way through the crowd. We had to move carefully because people were dancing now. Waltzing to be exact. 

Waltzing was most definitely outside of my purview.

Austin and his new wife were sitting together eating cake and laughing with each other. Now that was something I envied. My sister was married. They had one little girl—wrapped around my little finger—and another on the way.

That was the kind of lifestyle I wanted to lead.

As we neared the happy couple, a dark-haired goddess wearing a maroon dress came up and sat down right behind them. Her long flowing hair framed a heart-shaped face with red bow-shaped lips. 

Frederick stopped in front of the couple and put a hand over his heart.

“Ava,” he said. “You’ve gone and broken my heart.”

Ava, apparently Austin’s wife, just smiled.

“I have a feeling you’ll bounce back just fine,” Ava said. 

“Go find your own girl, Frederick,” Austin said with nothing but harmless amusement. “This one is mine.”

“Fine. Fine. But first you need to meet Christopher Taylor. He’s the newest Skye Travels pilot.”

“Try not to pick up Frederick’s bad habits,” Ava said. “He will get you in trouble.”

The dark haired goddess sitting behind them was watching Frederick in that way that women did. Like they couldn’t take their eyes off of him.

Personally, if I was a girl, I would be turned off by his muscles. I was lean and in shape, but my muscles weren’t cut. I didn’t care to look sculpted. Flying was my gig. 

“Nice to meet you both,” I said. “And congratulations on your marriage.”

“Are you from Houston?” Ava asked me.

The goddess sitting behind them leaned forward and whispered something to Austin.

“Yes,” I said. “Uptown. Nothing like this.”

Austin was shaking his head at the goddess.

“No,” he said. “Not a good idea.”

She whispered something else to him.

“Nothing wrong with Uptown,” Ava said. “Have a sparkling water and enjoy yourself.”

“I will. Thank you.” I held up my glass of sparkling water and took note of the champagne glass in her hand. Austin was holding a glass of champagne, too. He wouldn’t be doing any flying tomorrow, not as the pilot, at any rate.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Austin told the girl sitting behind him, frowning.

“Frederick,” he said. “This is my sister, Anastasia.”

Frederick’s face lit up like he’d just been given the keys to a brand new Phenom.

“Anastasia. What a beautiful name. For a beautiful lady. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out a hand, but instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her palm.

I refrained from rolling my eyes, but barely.

Austin must have seen the struggle I was having. We exchanged a knowing look. 

So the dark-haired beauty was Austin’s sister. Anastasia.

And Anastasia had just been introduced to the biggest womanizer I had ever known.

Before I even caught onto what was going on, Frederick and Anastasia were headed out onto the dance floor where he pulled her into a waltz.

They looked good together. I had to give them that. But they were both pretty people in their own right. There was no way they couldn’t look good together.

“What was that about?” Ava asked her husband.

“Something about Grandma,” Austin said, keeping his gaze on his sister a moment longer.

“Well,” Ava said. “I don’t understand that.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t watch out for her,” Austin said, cupping his wife’s chin and placing a kiss on her lips. “It’s my wedding day.”

She smiled, then looked over at me.

“Good point. But maybe Christopher could look out for her.”

“Whoa,” I said, holding up a hand. “Frederick does what Frederick does. No offense to your sister.”

“None taken,” Austin said. “I’m far too familiar with Frederick.”

“You have to do something,” Ava said. “You can’t just introduce them and not watch out for her.”

“Anastasia is a grown woman,” Austin said, then turned back to me. “Can you watch out for her? Just today. After that you’re off the hook.”

I hadn’t known that going to a man’s wedding meant I would have to watch out for his sister. That seemed like a task far beyond the call of duty.

“I’ll do my best,” I said. 

What was a man supposed to do?

Offend a man at his wedding? Probably not a good idea.

Refuse to keep an eye on his beautiful goddess of a sister? Not a chance. 

“Thank you,” Austin said. “I owe you one.”

“No problem.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Ava said before Austin tipped her back in another kiss.

Looked to me like the two of them were far beyond ready to get started on the honeymoon.

Unsure what I was supposed to do now. What I was really supposed to do… I wandered over to the open bar and got myself a fresh glass of sparkling water. 

Then I leaned back against the bar and watched the dancers until I caught sight of Frederick whirling Anastasia around the room. They weren’t hard to locate. Not with her in her red dress.

“Excuse me,” an older man, said as he came up to the bar. I stepped aside and looked around for another place to station myself with my unsolicited task.

I was beginning to see the value in learning to waltz. Maybe I’d check into lessons. Not that I would have all that many opportunities to waltz. Not in the ordinary world I lived in. 

Still. It couldn’t hurt. Working for the Worthington family, I never knew what I might be called up to do.

“Thank you Mr. Worthington,” the bartender said. “Enjoy.”

I hadn’t recognized him at first, but that was THE Noah Worthington. Noah was a distinguished looking older man. He might have gray hair, but it only made him look all the more distinguished. A man could only aspire to be as successful as Noah Worthington and to remain as handsome with age. 

Noah stood next to me. I couldn’t tell if he was drinking champagne or sparkling water or maybe something else entirely. 

“How are you Christopher?” he asked. 

“Fine, Sir,” I said. “A beautiful wedding.”

“Those two should have been married years ago.” He straightened. Gave a little shake of his head. “A familiar tale.”

“How so?” I asked. 

“I made the same mistake with Savannah. Got lucky when she took me back, though God only knows why she did.”

“It was meant to be, Sir,” I said. 

He rocked back on his heels. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Is Ms. Worthington here?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “Excuse my bad manners. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

“You don’t have to—”

But Noah was already walking away, obviously assuming I would follow.

He was a man who expected men to follow him and they did. I’d yet to meet anyone who didn’t admire Noah Worthington or an employee who wasn’t loyal to him. 

I had met a few people who were envious of him, but none who wished him ill. I’m sure they were out there—there was always someone—but I never let a conversation go down that direction. I hadn’t worked for him long, but I had, it seemed, already fallen into that loyalist camp. 

He was charmed as far as I could figure.

Any man who could take one little Cessna airplane and turn it into a billion dollar company was the epitome of success, definitely admired by pilots all across the country. 

I followed Noah through the crowded ballroom, past half a dozen men who greeted him. Past dancers on the ballroom floor.

As instructed, I kept one eye on Anastasia as Frederick swept her around the dance floor.

Noah stopped in front of two beautiful women, one clearly older than the other. They stood, their heads bent together, deep in conversation, but as we approached, the older woman looked up and smiled at Noah. 

He kissed her on the cheek in a show of affection, most men of his station wouldn’t dare in this type of formal setting. 

“Savannah,” he said. “This is Christopher Taylor. He’s one of our newest pilots.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Christopher,” she said. “Welcome to the team.”

“It’s an honor, ma’am.”

Savannah turned to the woman standing next to her. 

“This is our daughter Ainsley. She runs our animal transport department.”

“Hello Christopher,” Ainsley said. Ainsley was tall like her father and had her mother’s features. She looked as good as expected, coming from two good-looking successful parents.

“Be careful,” Savannah said. “She’ll try to recruit you.”

“As long as it involves flying,” I said. 

Noah clapped me on the back. 

“Spoken like a true pilot,” he said. 

“You have to love animals,” she said. “It’s a lot different from flying human passengers.”

“I can only imagine.”

I caught a glimpse of red as Anastasia swept past in Frederick’s arms. 

I couldn’t help but watch them as they passed. It was my job, after all.

“We’ve got to do something about that,” Ainsley said.

“Ainsley,” Savannah said. “It’s not our business.”

I couldn’t pretend to know what they were talking about. It sounded like they were talking about Anastasia, but I had no way of knowing if that was a correct assumption.

“Are you two still talking about Anastasia?” Noah asked, verifying my suspicions. 

“It’s our duty,” Ainsley said. 

“It’s not our business,” Savannah insisted.

“Anastasia Devereaux is the granddaughter of the owner of this building—The Sterling House,” Noah told me.

“Austin’s brother.”

“Yes,” Noah said. “You know her?”

“I can’t say that I do, but…” How much did I want to disclose? This was my boss. I had no reason to hide anything from him. “But Austin asked me to look after her tonight.”

“See,” Ainsley said. “Even Austin is worried about her.”

“He did seem worried about her,” I said. “But it’s his wedding day…”

“It’s Frederick,” Ainsley said. “Everyone knows he can’t be trusted around women.”

They were all three looking at me now. Noah, Savannah, and their daughter Ainsley.

“You’ve got to break in there,” Ainsley said. 

“Break in there? What does that mean?” A sense of panic was settling into my stomach and I was beginning to regret coming here tonight.

“She means cut in,” Noah said, then added at my blank expression. “Cut in and dance with her.”

Now I really was going to be sick.

“Sorry, Sir. I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances,” Ainsley said, dismissively. 

“Ainsley,” Savannah said with the tone only a mother could use.

“Just walk up there, tap Frederick on the shoulder, and take his place. He has to give her up.”

“Do people still do that?” Savannah wondered, looking over at her husband.

Noah glanced around the room at the dancers.

“It might be a little old-fashioned.”

“It might be very old-fashioned.”

“Who cares?” Ainsley said. “We can’t stand by and let Rebecca Devereaux’s granddaughter’s reputation be destroyed.”

She had a good point, but I didn’t see how sending me in was going to change that. Anastasia might not even want to dance with me. As far as I could tell, she appeared to be having a good time with Frederick. 

Not surprising. Frederick had a way with women that I would never understand.

“Daddy if he won’t do it,” Ainsley said. “You will.”

Noah looked at his daughter. Shook his head.

“And that would look how?” he asked.

“I told you it’s not our business,” Savannah said. “Anastasia is a grown woman.” 

Ainsley put her hands on her hips and glared at no one in particular. 

Then she turned her gaze back to me.

“You have to do it,” she said. “It’s Austin’s sister.”

I was shaking my head. 

No matter how much regret I was having right now, it was too late to take dance lessons now. 

I’d been tossed into the deep end by the Worthington family.

I had more than a feeling that no one told them no. 

I could be the first.

AVAILABLE: November 10, 2024

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