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Maybeshe’sgetting to you,my dragon murmured.
I spotted Erin through the window, throwing her head back with a laugh. Her glossy hair cascaded through the air, reflecting the firelight.
My heart beat a little faster, and my breath hitched.
Then I scowled and walked on, cursing every motorcycle in my way. Finally, I slid into my truck and started the engine with a roar, followed by the heating. Damn, was it cold. It didn’t take long for the lights of town to fade behind me, leaving only the twin beams of my headlights to cut through the crisp night.
I drove, trying to think of anything but Erin. Cursing, because wasn’t Arizona supposed to be warm? And, crap. How early the next morning was I supposed to be at my new job?
Things that didn’t matter flitted in and out of my mind, but one thing refused to leave. The woman I wasn’t interested in. Or so I kept telling myself.
Chapter Four
ERIN
“Good news or bad news first?” Henry, my boss, asked.
The cup of coffee he pressed into my hand hinted atbad. I took a quick sip and shut my eyes, reminding myself I could cope with anything — such as idiots lecturing me about who I kept company with, like that jerk from last night. Oh, or a ten-foot tear in the balloon I was scheduled to pilot that morning — that would bereallybad news.
I jerked my eyes to check the colorful bundle on the trailer before me. God, please, no. Not the balloon. Nothing that would disrupt my flight.
“The balloon’s fine,” Henry said quickly.
“Then what’s the bad news?”
Henry had parked in our launch area — a clearing a few miles out of town on national forest land — and sleepy guests were piling out of the van, rubbing their hands and stomping their feet to keep warm. Henry maneuvered me away from them to speak privately. Another bad sign.
“Kenny won’t be coming in today.” His breath crystallized in the cold winter air and hung there, motionless.
I jutted my jaw, waiting, because something in Henry’s expression said that wasn’t all.
“Kenny won’t be coming tomorrow either,” Henry continued after a significant pause. “Or the rest of the week. Not for the rest of the month, actually. He’s got some…issues to deal with.”
I scowled. Kenny, like so much of the casual help in the balloon business, always seemed to be hampered byissues— man-talk for problems with one’s ex, run-ins with the law, or four-digit sums owed to the wrong kind of “business associate.”
Henry heaved a sigh that saidPoor guy, but I felt no such mercy.
“Issues? What kind this time?” I started, then stuck up a hand. “Forget it.” It was probably better not to get on a rant, though I still rattled through one in my mind.
Wanda, the receptionist for the balloon company, had three kids, zero alimony, and a crushing mortgage. But did she complain about issues?
No, she did not.
Deirdre, Henry’s accountant, had a mother with dementia, a Honda that ran on fumes, and a Schnauzer with heartworm. Yet, did she fail to turn up at work due to issues?
No, she did not.
In fact, I knew very few women who complained aboutissues. They just struggled on, because they had no choice. But when the going got tough, big-talking guys like Kenny got going and escaped their problems. Or worse, leaving those problems for other people to solve.
People like me, who found themselves at five a.m. with a short-handed ground crew, twenty-plus guests, and a job to do.
For the record, I am not a man-hater. I loved and appreciated Henry, who’d given me a chance when no one else would. I had many male friends — some with, er,benefitsI’d thoroughly enjoyed. I loved my father dearly and would be eternally grateful for all the sacrifices he’d made for me.
It was just Kenny’s type that got me riled, especially at o-dark-thirty.
I folded my arms and stared Henry down. “The good news better be that you found a replacement.”
“I did!” He grinned then turned and hollered toward one of the men. “Come on over, son.”
