Chapter Six

ERIN

The problem with someone ticking you off was that it stuck with you, no matter how hard you tried to shake it away.

And boy, did I try to shake Nash away.

Which only annoyed me more. He was the annoyer. I was the annoyee. What right did he have to stick in my mind like that?

Yet there he was, sticking like glue.

Stunningly handsome glue. Especially the eyes. The shoulders. His chest. Oh, and that perfect, boxy ass — much, much preferable to Madden’s pudgy crack.

But that was about all he had going for him. He’d insulted my job — Mindless? Seriously? — and maligned my dad. On top of that, he might be secretly gunning for my pilot’s job. What a jerk.

I stalked through the supermarket, taking my frustration out on products I slammed into my shopping cart. A bag of wholewheat English muffins — thump! Half a pound of cheddar cheese — extra sharp — bang! A package of frozen ground turkey — crash!

The woman in the meat aisle looked at me, then quickly turned away.

I didn’t take it out on the lady at the register, because she probably had to cope with arrogant, belittling people too. But I did take it out my grocery bags, thrusting each item in, then shoving them into the cart. Zipping up my jacket, I headed outside, where the winter sun painted the sky a startlingly clear Navajo blue. Sedona’s spectacular red mesas spread below that, wrinkled by time and dusted with snow. Lower down, a deep green patchwork of pines, oaks, and junipers surrounded town, all sprinkled with a thinner layer of confectioner’s powder.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, letting peace filter through my soul.

Someone bumped me, then hurried to apologize. “Oh, sorry.”

“My fault.” I moved aside, keeping my eyes closed.

“Not available? Are you sure?” the same man asked, his voice smooth as honey — the dark, thick kind that tempted you to dip in a spoon and lick.

I glanced over at a styled, sixtysomething man holding a phone to his ear. His sleeve slid down far enough to reveal one of those fancy watches that cost five figures and could measure barometric pressure and the time in Hong Kong — from a hundred feet underwater, no doubt. The rest of his outfit was what Pippa called Marlboro Man Chic, with a rancher’s jacket by Ralph Lauren and gleaming boots that had never, ever been smeared with cow dung and never would be.

All in all, you could call him coiffed. Elegant. Worldly, too, like he had to head off to a business meeting in New York — make that, London — very soon. One of those silver foxes who made women’s hearts skip, because here was a man who wouldn’t get excited about inviting a date to cheap stadium seats where spilled beer and soda kept shoes half glued to the floor. A man who’d learned that birthdays were not to be forgotten and that dirty clothes belonged in a bin.

So, not necessarily my type, but a fun fantasy to indulge in from time to time.

“Nothing available at all?” he asked. I expected a corporate-rich guy like that to start hollering and threatening, but he kept his cool. “Not a single helicopter? Not even a four-seater plane?”

Two doors down the strip mall, a woman in high heels click-click-clicked out of a real estate office and pressed a manila envelope into his hands.

He flashed a stunning Colgate smile and nodded his thanks without interrupting his call.

“What a pity. But surely something can be done. I’m only in town for a few days, and I really don’t want to miss the experience of seeing it from the air.”

I was liking this guy more and more all the time.

“Yes, I’ll stay on the line,” he said, checking his watch.

And, heck. I wasn’t a born hustler, but I knew an opportunity when I saw one.

I stepped closer with a little wave. He looked up — and wow. That thousand-watt smile made something flutter in my chest.

I pushed the feeling away and smiled back. “I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you looking for someone to take you on a scenic flight?”

His eyes, voice, and smile all lasered into me, making my cheeks heat. “Yes, I am. Are you a pilot?”

I fell in love with him right there. Most people would have said, Do you know a pilot? not given me credit for being one.

“I am — at Desert Skies Balloon Adventures.” I pointed at our office on the other side of the strip mall. “Have you considered a balloon ride? No engine howling in your ears, no blades chopping up the air. Just you floating peacefully through the sky.”

His eyes sparkled. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that. But it could fit the bill.” He blinked, then spoke into the phone as the other party came back on the line. “Nothing until next week? Unfortunately, that won’t work. But I believe I may have found a different solution.” He winked at me, then hung up, smiling. “What are my chances of getting a private flight soon, Captain?”

My heart fluttered again.

“We’ll have to ask my boss, but I’m sure he can arrange something. How many passengers?”

“Two minimum. If space allows, perhaps a few more.”

“No problem. Even our smallest baskets carry eight,” I said.

My heart raced for a different reason. Desert Skies Balloon Adventures was doing all right, but every booking was important. If I brought in extra business, and if there was a free spot, Henry would reward me by letting me copilot, right? Then I would have that last hour I needed and could pilot to my heart’s content.

Marlboro Chic stuck out a hand. “Well, then, please show me the way, Miss…?”

“Sattler.”

He grinned. “Harlon Greene.”

We shook, and I marched him over to Henry’s office.

“But your groceries…” he started.

I didn’t care — not even about the double chocolate chip mint ice cream that was sure to melt. That was how much a flight meant to me. Plus, I had another reason to escort him over. If Madden was in the office when this customer came in, Madden would claim the business for himself in hopes of a big tip — and Harlon Greene had big tipper written all over him.

He insisted on helping me load the groceries into my car, then followed me to the office. And yay — it really was my lucky day, because Henry was at the desk, not Madden, and we had an opening in two days’ time.

“I’d really appreciate it if Miss Sattler could be my pilot.” Harlon lit up the room with another smile.

My lord. A smile that sunny could power all of Sedona on a cloudy day — not that we got many of those.

Even Henry beamed. “I’ll make sure she is.”

I smiled all the way home, my troubles forgotten. I was scheduled to fly — at last! My dream of a piloting career was about to come true.

* * *

My spirits soared for the next thirty-six hours, and I barely slept the night before the flight. Chico and John were in their usual, half-asleep state when I picked them up. Nash was his effortlessly handsome, Channing Tatum meets Oscar the Grouch self. I was the Energizer Bunny on steroids, talking a mile a minute to Chico. He’d had been on ground crew long enough to know the back roads, and I’d cajoled Henry into letting him drive the chase car for that one, low-wind, easy day. That freed me up to copilot with Henry and clock that last hour of flight time I so desperately needed.

“Will you slow down a little?” John protested as we hitched up the balloon trailer and triple-checked the propane tanks.

I revved the van to life and motioned them in.

“I think that means no,” Chico murmured as I sped away at twice my usual speed.

But the minute I pulled up to our launch point and spotted Madden, not Henry, arriving with the guests in a second van, my mood plummeted.

I glued on a fake smile as I dragged Madden aside.

“Where’s Henry?”

“Morning to you too,” Madden mumbled between sips of steaming coffee. Then he yawned. “You didn’t check your messages?”

No, I hadn’t. Reception was crap out where I lived, and I’d been too busy giving Chico last-minute instructions to check messages when we’d passed through town.

“Henry had to go to Denver. His brother had a heart attack.” Madden yawned in a manner more suited to flat tire than life-threatening emergency . “I’m filling in.”

I stared, none too pleased at the prospect of flying with Madden. Then I chided myself and got my priorities straight. “Is Henry’s brother all right?”

Madden shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

I snorted. Of course he hadn’t.

“Ah, Miss Sattler,” a smooth voice greeted me.

That turned my smile genuine. “Mr. Greene. Good morning.”

“Please, call me Harlon.” He clasped my hand warmly, then gestured behind him. “I hope it’s all right. I brought a few friends.”

Friends? More like a business associate — a bald, portly guy carrying a briefcase — plus several stunning young women. His daughters?

More like groupies, I realized when one blew a kiss at him.

My heart sank as I did a mental count.

“Madden assured me there was enough space…” Harlon went on.

I froze, counting again. Seven guests, plus a pilot. An eight-person balloon. Enough space for everyone…but me.

“Can we get a selfie with you?” the groupies cooed at Madden.

Madden cozied up to them to squeeze into the frame. “Anything you ladies desire.”

The “ladies” struck several different poses before the one holding the phone switched to video and started to narrate.

“Here we are, ready for our flight, with our pilot…”

Madden made a hang loose sign, grinning as buxom young women crushed in around him.

“And Miss Sattler,” Harlon added.

Madden stuck up a hand. “Not today, unfortunately.”

Or any other day, his sorry/not sorry expression made clear.

“There’s only space for seven, and Erin’s not cleared to fly solo,” Madden gloated. “She can only copilot.”

But only for one more hour, I nearly barked. One measly hour.

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Harlon said. “What a pity. I didn’t know that when I invited the ladies along.”

He couldn’t have known, but Madden did. I glowered at him.

Harlon turned to his groupies. “I don’t suppose one of you would like to bow out?”

They crushed forward like panicked sheep, petting his Ralph Lauren shearling jacket. “And miss the fun?”

Harlon looked between them and me, obviously torn.

I burned to talk one — better yet, all — of the young women out of flying. But business was business, and every paying customer counted in a roller-coaster business in roller-coaster times.

I stuck up my hands. “Very kind of you, but it’s fine. Really,” I lied.

“See?” one of the women practically jeered. “It’s fine.”

Harlon looked annoyed, perhaps considering the flip side of maintaining a brood of willing and eager groupies. His eyes narrowed on the woman, and his lips went hard.

Out of nowhere, a dark-cloud-sweeping-over-the-horizon feeling whooshed in, and I swear, the earth trembled. Something terrible was about to happen, and I didn’t want to stick around to find out what.

“It’s okay. Really,” I cut in, touching Harlon’s arm.

The moment I did, zap! Static electricity hit me so hard, I jolted.

Well, I did inside, though I managed not to let it show.

But, yikes. Harlon’s eyes burned into me, and that creeping feeling went from surrounding me to invading . A strange sensation tickled at the edge of my mind, and my thoughts began to blur.

Thank goodness for Chico closing the van door with a mighty bang. I turned, stepping away from Harlon’s bewitching aura.

“Really, no problem,” I repeated. “And anyway, I’d better get to work. Enjoy your flight.”

I moved away briskly, doing my best to channel busy bee instead of fleeing dog . Because, shit. Now I knew who Harlon reminded me of.

Smooth-talker. Hot-looker. Man-magnet with just the right touch. A magic touch, one might even say.

Warlock.

Just like my dad.