Sable Peak (The Edens)

The alarm chimed on my phone. Ten thirty. Time to go. I had just enough time to put my tools away and drive from the hotel to the ranch.

“Mateo?” Eloise called.

“In here,” I hollered back from room 309.

She found me in the bathroom, wiping down the mirror I’d just installed.

Over the past three months, I’d been replacing the bathroom mirrors in the guest rooms with larger, LED-lit pieces. We timed these update projects for the slow winter months, when the hotel wasn’t packed. There were four rooms to go and then it was done.

“That looks so great.” Eloise smiled as I closed my toolbox. “I love these mirrors.”

“They’re nice. It was a good call to swap them out. Give me until Friday, then I should have the rest finished.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

“Welcome.” I lifted my tools and followed her out to the elevators.

“I have this for you,” she said, holding up a piece of paper.

“What is it?”

“The direct deposit form. I know I’ve always just written you a check for your time, but since you’re the official maintenance man, I was thinking this would be easier.”

Wait. The official maintenance man? When had I become official?

Yeah, I did a lot of maintenance at the hotel. Before Allie was born, I used to cover the front desk whenever Eloise was short-staffed, but she’d lined up good clerks in the past couple of years and hadn’t needed much help. These days, I mostly worked on building projects, like upgrading those mirrors. I was handy and didn’t mind fixing the occasional broken dresser drawer or changing a florescent ballast bulb.

Dad helped too. Was he getting a direct deposit form and an official job title?

“Just fill that out whenever you can,” she said.

I nodded. “You got it.”

Official maintenance man. I grimaced as the elevator doors slid open. Eloise left for the desk, and I went to put my tools in the utility room.

What was I doing?

I was twenty-eight-years old working a job that was only supposed to be temporary. It had started as a way to pitch in, reduce my sister’s stress and make a few bucks along the way.

Allie and I didn’t need much to live on, so between the money I earned at The Eloise and what Griffin paid me for work on the ranch, I had plenty to pay for groceries, gas and whatever expenses came up. I’d even started a college savings account.

The hired-hand gig was supposed to be temporary too, except I’d been doing it for years. How long was I going to be Eloise’s maintenance man? How long was I going to be Griffin’s hired hand?

Was this really my future? Was I really wasting my college degree and the hours upon hours I’d spent flying?

Both jobs gave me a lot of flexibility to be with Allie. I liked being home with her more often than not. The most important official title I had was Dad. And I wasn’t just her dad. I was her mother too. I was filling both roles, and for that, I couldn’t be strapped to a demanding career.

But what happened when she went to kindergarten? What happened when she moved and went to college? Would I still be doing maintenance at the hotel? Or fixing fence on the ranch?

“What am I doing?” I asked myself that question more often these days. Sure would be nice if I had an answer.

Griffin needed my help. Eloise did too. It seemed ridiculous to make them hire employees for jobs I had the skill set and time to do. Besides, it wasn’t like I had anything else going on. I didn’t want an eight-to-five job and a set schedule that would take me away from Allie. I had no desire to work as a bank teller or become a realtor or manage the hardware store.

Official maintenance man.

I wanted to crumple the direct deposit form and toss it in the trash. Instead, I folded it in thirds, tucked it in my pocket and walked out of the elevator.

A lot of people didn’t love their jobs. Not my siblings, but a lot of other people in this world didn’t love their jobs.

For now, until I figured out what I wanted to do, I’d be the official maintenance man.

And if I never figured out what I wanted to do, well …

The most important job I had was as Allie’s father. That would be enough.

It would have to be enough.

Eloise was on the phone when I passed the reception desk. Jasper, seated at her side, lifted a hand as I strode through the lobby.

I jerked up my chin, about to leave, when the door opened.

Vance strode inside, dressed for work with his badge and holstered gun on his belt.

Hell. Given the look on his face, I was going to be late picking up Vera.

“Hey,” I said.

“Got a minute?”

“Just the one. I’ve got to get out to the ranch.” As far as I was concerned, he could assume I was picking up Allie.

I wasn’t sure what was happening with Vera, not yet. And I didn’t need Vance in the middle.

“Then I’ll be quick.” He rubbed a hand over his beard. “I wanted to talk about what happened at Willie’s.”

“Did you know she had feelings for me?”

“No, I would have said something.”

“What would you have said?”

He sighed. “Probably to stay away.”

That was why he’d interrupted our dance at his wedding, wasn’t it? And why he’d always made sure Vera was on his side of the table at family dinners.

“It’s not about you,” he said. “It’s her. I wouldn’t want her with anyone, right now. She’s … different. She’s not who she used to be. What happened changed her. She’s fragile.”

Nothing about Vera was fragile. Surviving the horrors inflicted by her father might have changed her. But she wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t broken.

“She’s not, Vance. She’s not fragile. And maybe she’d believe that herself if you stopped treating her like she’s made of glass.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t know everything she’s been through.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” When it came to Vera, there was a lot I’d missed.

It was time to catch up.

THE QUINCY AIRFIELD was fifteen miles from the ranch. For the past nine of those fifteen, Vera had been huddled so close to the passenger door that she looked like she was contemplating an emergency exit. Any minute now, she’d pull the handle, tuck and roll.

“How’s school?” It was my fifth attempt to drum up conversation.

“Good.”

Good. The same answer she’d given when I’d asked her how work was going and how she liked living in the loft. When I’d told her that Allie still loved the rocking dragon, she’d said, “Good.” And when I’d promised she’d enjoy flying today, another “Good.”

I was never saying good again.

“You’re taking three classes, right?”

Vera nodded and shifted even closer to that door.

For fuck’s sake. Was she scared of me now? Maybe this was a bad idea.

But I just … needed to spend time with her. Alone. Because Vera had kissed me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It felt like someone had slipped glasses on my face. And that someone had given me permission to see.

Now I wanted to learn everything there was to learn about Vera. I wanted to see it all.

“Clear and a million.”

Vera glanced over. “What?”

I pointed to the sky. “You have to know a lot about weather to be a pilot. There are different classifications of clouds, like overcast or broken or scattered. Then there’s days like this. Not a cloud in sight. Unlimited visibility. Nothing but brilliant blue. Clear and a million. It’s the best time to fly.”

“Oh.”

Even huddled against the door, she looked beautiful. Her hair fell in silky strands around her shoulders, cascading to her waist. With the sunlight coming through the windshield, the freckles on her nose popped. I’d always liked freckles.

Vera’s face wasn’t covered in them like some redheads. There was just a scattering across her nose, like they’d been drawn by an artist, dotted with precision.

“Here.” I took an extra pair of sunglasses from the console compartment and handed them over. “You’ll want these today.”

She eyed the aviators.

Was she going to make everything hard today? “They’re just sunglasses, Vera. They won’t bite.”

She was careful not to let our fingers brush as she took them from my hand. Then she unfolded the temples, slid them onto her face and hid those pretty brown eyes.

A strange feeling stirred in my chest. What was it? Pride? Possession? Whatever it was, I liked seeing her wear my glasses.

This was about to get complicated, wasn’t it?

Beyond my talk with Mom on Sunday morning, I hadn’t spoken to my parents about Vera. My siblings hadn’t asked about us either, not even Eloise when I’d gone to the hotel. Even Vance was giving me time to sort it through, but I was on the clock. This reprieve wouldn’t last. They’d want to know how I was going to handle this.

Fly. Today, I was going to take Vera flying.

My parents, brothers and sisters had all noticed when my flying days had dwindled. I came to the airfield less and less often. They’d noticed, but it hadn’t bothered them that I’d stopped. Maybe because I hadn’t let on that it bothered me.

Not Vera. It upset her that I wasn’t flying.

Today was a good excuse to get up in the air. And spend time with Vera.

Either she and I would find our way past this awkward bump, navigate our way to a friendship again. Or everything would change.

Maybe I already knew the answer. Maybe I suspected I knew exactly where this was going. But I wasn’t ready to admit it yet, not even to myself.

There’d be time to evaluate. After this flight.

Vera’s shoulders crept closer and closer to her ears as we passed the sign to the airport.

“Nervous?”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and gave me a slight nod.

“I came out yesterday to do a few takeoffs and landings. Knock the rust off. I promise we won’t crash.”

“That’s not …” Vera sighed. “Why am I here, Mateo? You don’t need to pander to me. We can just forget about Willie’s, okay?”

“What if I don’t want to forget about it?”

Her gaze whipped to mine.

Finally. I had her attention.

She sure as fuck held mine.

“Let’s just fly today.” It was too soon to talk about anything else. “Think you can do that?”

“Yeah.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. And slightly, just slightly, she inched away from the door.

I slowed and took the turnout for the airfield. The truck bounced along the patchy asphalt road. The hangars, with their white tin walls and silver metal roofs, reflected the bright morning sun. Ten buildings lined the runway. Mine was the newest.

Mom and Dad had already given us kids a portion of our inheritance. They always said it was stupid to wait until they were dead to share. They wanted to be around to witness us use that money and chase our dreams.

Everyone else had turned that money into a business or advanced education. After I’d graduated college, I’d taken my money and bought an airplane and built a hangar.

Guilt and that hangar, my plane, went hand in hand these days. Had I pissed away my parents’ money? Should I have invested it in something else?

Flying was an expensive hobby, especially when the plane’s wheels didn’t leave the ground.

At least it had appreciated in value.

I parked outside the hangar and climbed out of the truck, waiting for Vera to join me. Then I led her to the door, keyed in the lock’s combination to the touchpad and stepped inside. The motion lights flickered on, glinting off the royal blue and silver Cirrus SR22 turbo.

“Vera, meet Four Zero Six Delta Whiskey.”

“Wow,” she whispered.

It wasn’t a big plane. Depending on weight limits, I could fit four passengers, and the inside wasn’t much bigger than that of a compact car. But this plane had taken me across thousands and thousands of miles.

It was the plane I’d flown that night I’d received the call about Alaina. About Madison. And when I’d taken my daughter from that hospital in Alaska, this was the plane that had brought us home.

Buckled in her car seat and strapped in the seat beside mine, Allie had slept through each leg of that trip. She’d only woken up when I’d stopped to refuel, feed her a bottle and change her diaper.

Only once had her ears bothered her enough to make a fuss, but I’d kept as low an altitude as possible to save her any pain. In hindsight, she’d been an excellent traveler. Better than most adults.

But that flight had been the most harrowing, exhausting flight of my life. It had taken me months to venture out to the airfield after that trip. And not once had I wanted to take Allie flying again. I hadn’t even brought her to the hangar.

“This is nice,” Vera said.

“Feel free to grab a water from the fridge.” I pointed to the small kitchenette.

Beside it was a lounge area with two leather couches and a coffee table. My office sat in the far corner. Beside it, a bathroom. Along with shelves for storage, there was a utility room and a cleaning supply closet.

It was the nicest hangar around, and for the past two years, it had mostly been neglected. When I’d come yesterday to fly, I’d spent three hours cleaning the months of accumulated dust. Guilt had kept me company the whole damn time.

“I’m going to do a quick preflight inspection,” I told Vera, nodding to the couches. “Give me fifteen, and we’ll get ready to go.”

“Okay.” She pushed those sunglasses into her hair and tore her gaze from the plane to meet mine. Pink infused her cheeks, the same rosy shade as her mouth.

Vera always had pink cheeks. I’d assumed it was just a natural blush. But maybe, all this time, it had been for me.

Damn.

It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

My blood stirred and rushed straight to my groin. Huh. That was new. And not entirely unwelcome.

I was in trouble, wasn’t I? A fucking heap.

Focus, Mateo. We were flying today. There was no time to think about Vera’s pink lips or cheeks or the way her jeans molded to her toned legs.

She walked to a couch, taking a seat on the plush leather. And I turned for my plane, waiting until I was on the opposite side before adjusting my dick.

I stepped up onto the wing and popped the door open. From my seat, I turned on the batteries, letting the screens power up, then went through my initial preflight checklist, inspecting everything from the wings to the elevator to the fuel and oil to the propeller. When I deemed everything ready to go, I walked to the button for the folding overhead door, letting it open so the air and sunshine could flood inside.Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Vera stood from the couch, tucking and untucking a lock of hair behind an ear, as I used the tug to roll the plane onto the taxiway outside. With it in position, I waved her over.

“Ready?”

She nodded, joining me on her side of the plane.

“Climb up.” I pointed to the footstep, then patted the wing, reaching past her to pull the door’s handle.

“Okay.” Her voice was shaking as she moved past me.

The smell of her hair wafted to my nose. It was sweet but subtle, like flowers and crisp apples. I leaned in closer, drawing it in.

I’d forgotten just how much I liked her perfume. While we’d danced at Vance and Lyla’s wedding, I’d taken these deep inhales of that scent, wondering how I’d spent so much time with Vera but hadn’t noticed just how good she smelled.

What if Vance hadn’t cut in that night? What if I had had more time to get lost in the flecks of gold and cinnamon in her chocolate eyes?

What if I had snuck her away for a kiss?

Vance would have kicked my ass. Lyla would have probably been next in line.

Mom might have been understanding this weekend, but back then, she would have given me the tongue lashing of the decade.

Back then, Vera hadn’t lived in the loft for long. She’d only spent months on the ranch and less than a year in Quincy. She’d been quieter then. She’d still been finding her footing.

If I had kissed Vera, chances were, my family would have gone nuclear.

Maybe the reason I hadn’t noticed Vera’s crush was because I couldn’t have noticed Vera’s crush. Not back then.

“What?” she asked, that blush deepening.

“Nothing. Whenever you’re ready.”

She hoisted herself up on the wing, carefully stepping into the plane. Once she was in her seat, pulling on the harness, I rounded the tail and got in on my own side to buckle up.

Vera’s knuckles were nearly white as she clutched her hands in her lap.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“Says the pilot,” she muttered. “Were you nervous on your first flight?”

“Yes.”

She slid the sunglasses onto her face. “Then I get to be nervous too.”

“Fair point.” I chuckled, then reached for her door to confirm the latch was down tight. My arm brushed against hers and tingles spread like dancing flames across my skin.

Her breath hitched.

“Just checking,” I murmured, my gaze dropping to her mouth.

“Oh,” she breathed, her lips a perfect O.

I’d never kissed anyone in this plane. Not even Madison.

Yeah, I was in trouble. So much trouble.

I tore my gaze away and plugged in Vera’s headset, handing it to her so she could situate it over her ears and adjust the mic to her mouth. I did the same with my own headset, then I gave her a quick nod.

When she nodded back, I leaned my head outside, shouting, “Clear,” then latched my door shut. Holding the key in the ignition, I started the engine. Its hum and vibration filled the cabin as the propeller kicked up speed.

Using the brakes to steer, I taxied to the runway, doing a quick runup of the engine as I monitored the gauges, stealing glances at Vera as I punched buttons and turned knobs.

Her eyes were squeezed shut behind her sunglasses.

“We don’t have to do this.”

This was the most I’d looked forward to a flight in well … years. I hadn’t been this excited to fly since before my trip home from Alaska with Alaina. My heart was set on doing this today, but if Vera wanted to turn back, I’d abort this right now.

She’d love it. If I could just get us off the ground, she’d love it. I’d gamble every penny to my name that she’d love to fly.

“I want to go,” she said. “I’m just … my stomach is in a knot. And I really don’t want to puke in your plane.”

I grinned. “I’d rather you not puke either. But if you get sick, there’s a bag in the back.”

“Okay.”

“This plane has a parachute.” I pointed to the red handle above our heads. “See that?”

Vera cracked her eyes and glanced up. “Yeah.”

“If something happens to me, use both hands and pull that knob. It will shoot a rocket from a compartment in the back and deploy an airframe parachute. Float us right back to the ground.”

“Are you making that up?”

“Nope. In college, when I told Mom I wanted to become a pilot, she went into Google mode. Told me to do her a favor and fly in a Cirrus so she could sleep at night.”

Vera’s frame relaxed. “I’m still nervous.”

“Be nervous. Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when to open them.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

I ran through the rest of the briefing, Vera nodding along as I detailed the takeoff plan. And when we were ready, I rolled us to the runway and made the initial radio call.

“Here we go.” I pushed the throttle to full power. One. Two. Three. We sped down the runway, and once we were fast enough to rotate, I lifted us off with a tilt of the yoke.

We soared, rising higher and higher. A grin stretched across my mouth. It never got old. That first lift, when the plane just … flew. When it did what it was meant to do.

What I was meant to do.

After calling our departure, I climbed to a cruise altitude and leveled off. When the mountains and meadows sprawled beneath us, I let the autopilot fly us on a straight course so I could focus on Vera.

Her eyes were finally open, her mouth agape in wonder.

“Well?” I asked.

“Worth it.”

Thank fuck. “Where should we go? Pick a spot.”

Vera glanced around, peering out her window, then pointed to a snow-capped peak in the distance.

“Sable Peak?” I asked.

“That’s your favorite, right?”

“It is.” I turned to the new heading, aiming us toward the peak.

“Why is it your favorite?”

“The view. It’s not easy to hike up there, as you know. But you can’t beat that view from the top.” I loved to be in the air, but that view was arguably better than even this.

“There’s a lake tucked away about half a mile past the actual trail,” I continued. “Discovered it in college. I came home one weekend, went buzzing around and spotted it. The next day, I went hiking to find it. It’s been my favorite spot ever since. It’s remote. I like to think I’m the only person in the world who’s ever touched its water.”

Vera hummed, her eyes focused outside.

I flew us around the peak a couple times, giving us enough distance that we didn’t need to climb higher. After a few circles, I followed the curve of the mountain ridgeline.

“Want to try?” I asked, disconnecting the autopilot.

“Try what?”

“Flying.”

“Um … yes?”

“Atta girl.” I’d put Vera in the left seat today. As an instructor, I could fly from either seat, but the left side was where students started.

Vera gulped and gripped the yoke. “Now what?”

I held up both hands. “You’ve got the flight controls. Don’t crash us into the mountains.”

“That’s not funny, Mateo.” Her lips flattened into a thin line.

“Sort of funny.” I grinned. “I’ll back you up. Just go for it.”

“Do I just …” She tipped the yoke, the wing on her side lifting as mine dipped. And a startled, happy laugh escaped her pretty mouth. “Oh my God, I’m flying an airplane.”

“You’re flying an airplane, Peach.”

Peach? Where the hell had that come from? It had just … slipped out. Like I should have been calling her Peach for years. Like the way I’d started calling Alaina Sprout. One day she didn’t have a nickname. The next, she did. And Peach was Vera’s.

She was too caught up in the flying to notice. Her forehead was furrowed in concentration. Her gaze was locked ahead.

The light that streamed through the windows loved her face. It caressed her cheeks and kissed her lips. It teased the strands of pure gold in that copper hair.

Clear and a million.

Today, I was seeing clear and a million.

“Will you teach me to fly?” she asked.

Spend hours and hours with her, alone and above the world? “Absolutely.”