Jesus, any way it had happened, she’d ended up dead, and her baby daughter an orphan.
Why had she been heading south on 12, or had she been heading back from farther away? To meet a lover? To meet this theoretical person she’d enlisted to cause trouble? Plenty of motels to choose from. Hard to meet a lover—and Dolly had been famous for using sex as barter—when you lived at home with your parents and your baby.
Why couldn’t she have loved the baby enough to just make a life? To treasure what she had, and put some goddamn effort into being a good mother instead of letting this obsession eat away at her?
All the time she’d spent planning her weird revenge, harboring all that hate, could’ve been spent on living, on nuzzling her baby.
“Oh, mother issues much?” Annoyed with herself, she quickened her pace.
Enough solo time, she decided. Solo time was overrated. She should’ve taken Gull up on his offer to come with her. He’d have distracted her out of this mood, made her laugh, or at least annoyed her so she’d stop feeling sad and angry.
When she moved around the people scattered over the lawn, the picnic tables at her father’s place, she looked up, as they were.
Coming on final, she thought, watching the plane. She crossed to the fence, tucked her hands in her back pockets and decided to enjoy the show. Her smile bloomed as the skydiver jumped—and taking a breather didn’t seem so bad after all. When the second figure leaped out, she settled in, studying their forms on the free fall.
The first, definitely a student, but not bad. Not shabby. Arms out, taking it in. Check out that view! Feel that wind!
And the second... Rowan angled her head, narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t be sure, not yet, but she’d have laid decent money down Iron Man Tripp rocketed down toward the student.
Then came the moment. The chutes deployed, one then two—to applause and cheers—the blue-and-white stripes of the student’s, and the chute she’d designed and rigged for her father’s sixtieth birthday with the boldly lettered IRON MAN in red (his favorite color) over a figure of a smoke jumper.
She loved watching him like this, and always had. Perfect form, she thought, absolute control, riding the air from sky to earth while the sun streamed through those drifting clouds.
She’d been exactly right to come here, she realized, when the world tipped crazily all around her. Here, what she loved held constant. Whatever happened, she could count on him.
She willed the stress of the morning into a corner. She couldn’t dismiss it, but she could shove it back a little and focus on what made her happy.
She’d hang out here with her father for a while, have lunch with him, talk over what was going on. He’d listen, let her spew, and somehow pull her back in, steady her again.
She always thought more clearly, felt less overwhelmed, after a session with her father.
The student handled the drop well, Rowan observed, managed a very decent landing and was up on his—no her, Rowan realized—feet quickly. Then the Iron Man touched down, soft as butter, smooth as silk.
She added her applause to the rest, sent out a high whistle of approval before waving her arms in hopes of snagging her father’s attention.
The student unhooked her harness, pulled off her helmet. Gorgeous red hair seemed to explode in the sunlight. As the woman raced toward her father, Rowan grinned. She understood the exuberance, the charge of excitement, had seen this same scene play out countless times between student and instructor. She continued to grin as the woman leaped into Lucas’s arms, something else she’d seen again and again.
What she hadn’t seen, and what had her grin shifting to a puzzled frown, was her father swinging a student in giddy circles while said student locked her arms around his neck.
And when Lucas “Iron Man” Tripp leaned down and planted a long, very enthusiastic kiss (and the crowd went wild) on the student’s mouth, Rowan’s jaw dropped to the toes of her Nikes.
She would’ve been more shocked if Lucas had pulled out a Luger and shot the redhead between the eyes, but it would’ve been a close call.
The woman had her hands on Lucas’s cheeks, a gesture somehow more intimate than the kiss itself. It spoke of knowledge, familiarity, of privilege.
Who the hell was this bimbo, and when the hell had Iron Man started kissing students? Kissing
And in public.
The woman turned, her face—which didn’t look bimbo-ish—warm from the kiss, bright with laughter, and executed a deep, exaggerated curtsy for the still cheering crowd. To Rowan’s continued shock, Lucas simply stood there grinning like the village idiot.
Was he on drugs?
Her brain told her to ease back, to find some quiet place to absorb the shock. Her gut told her to hurdle the fence, march right up and demand what the fuck?!
But her fingers had curled around the fence, and she couldn’t seem to uncurl them.
Then her father spotted her. His loopy grin aimed her way as he—Jesus—took the redhead’s hand, gave it a little swing. He waved at Rowan with his free hand before he said something to the face-caressing redhead, who actually had the
Still holding hands, they strolled toward the fence and Rowan.
“Hi, honey. I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I... I’m low on the jump list, so.”
“I’m glad you came by.” He laid his fingers over the ones she had curled on the fence, effectively linking the three of them. “Ella, this is my daughter, Rowan. Ro, Ella Frazier. She just did her first AFF.”
“It’s great to meet you. Lucas has told me so much about you.”
“Oh, yeah? Funny, he hasn’t told me a thing about you.”
“You’ve been pretty busy.” Obviously oblivious, Lucas spoke cheerfully. “We keep missing each other. Ella’s principal of Orchard Homes Academy.”
A high-school principal. Tony private school. Another strike against bimbo status. Damn it.
“Her son bought her a tandem jump as a gift,” Lucas went on, “and she got hooked. You should’ve had your family here for this, Ella,” he continued. “Your grandkids would’ve loved it.”
And a
“I wanted to make sure I handled it before they came to watch. Next time. In fact, I’m going to go in and talk to Marcie about setting it up. It was nice to meet you, Rowan. I hope we see more of each other.”
Though her voice was mild and polite, the quick clash when the two women’s gazes met made it clear they understood each other.
“I’ll see you inside, Lucas.”
Yeah, keep walking, Rowan thought. Make tracks.
“So what did you think?” Lucas asked, eagerly. “I’ve been hoping you’d get a break so you could meet Ella. It’s cool you happened to be here for her first AFF.”
“Her form’s not bad. She had a good flight. Listen, Dad, why don’t we grab some lunch in the cafe? There’s —”
“Ella and I are having a picnic lunch out here to celebrate her dive. Why don’t you join us? It’ll give the two of you a chance to get to know each other.”
Was he kidding? “I don’t think so, but thanks. Riding third wheel doesn’t suit me.”
“Don’t be silly. If I know Ella, she made plenty. She’s a hell of a cook.”
“Just—just—” She had to untangle her tongue. “How long has this been going on?
He pokered up, a look she knew meant she’d hit a nerve.
“I think that would come under the heading of my personal business, Rowan. What’s your problem here?”
“My problem, other than the kissing, holding and so on in front of God, crew and visitors, is I came over here because I needed to talk to my father, but you’re obviously too busy with Principal Hotpants to spare any for me.”
