Page 27 of Angel In Armani

Her dad had insisted on making her lunch and she’d given in, happy for a few more minutes’ reprieve before she had to talk to him. She’d almost finished her sandwich when she noticed that her dad had barely touched his.

Uh-oh.

Almost every day of her life that she’d eaten lunch with him, her dad had eaten a tuna melt on whole wheat with a dill pickle on the side. Demolished it with about five rapid bites of each half. He believed in food as fuel, and didn’t like to waste time on things like choosing a different sandwich or making small talk while he ate.

He liked things simple and practical and uncomplicated.

Not that any of those things applied to their current situation. He’d been very quiet for the few weeks since the A-Star had been damaged. Which made her feel even worse about it all.

“Is your leg bothering you?” Sara asked. Pain was one thing that could kill his appetite, but she’d thought it had been well controlled lately. Maybe he’d tried to wean himself down a dose on the meds again.

Her dad shook his head. “No more than usual.” He looked up at her then back down at his plate then back up at her.

The expression on his face made her nervous. “Then what’s up?”

Sean gripped the edge of the table. “Ron came to see me yesterday.”

“Ron?” Her mind was blank for a moment. “You mean Ron Harris?” Ron Harris who was one of her dad’s flying buddies and business rivals not to mention the father of one of her exes, Evan. Evan who was a perfectly nice guy except for that small inability to be faithful to his girlfriend. Or to her, at least. She’d heard he was engaged now—her mother had included the clipping of the announcement in one of her care packets, God knew why—so maybe he’d learned to keep it zipped in the time since they’d parted.

“Yup.”

“That’s nice.” She didn’t know if Ron had been to see her dad since the accident.

Though she didn’t think it likely that Ron dropping by was the news that her dad wanted to share with her.

“He heard about what happened,” Dad said.

Hope bloomed in the pit of her stomach. Ron Harris also had a helicopter charter business. One that was about five times bigger than Charles Air. He had helicopters aplenty. “Can he loan us a helo?” If Ron could help them out there might be some hope.

“No.”

Well, shit.

“He came to offer you a job,” Sean continued. He looked down again and Sara’s stomach clenched again, not in a good way.

“He needs a pilot?”

“He needs someone to work in reception.”

“Reception?” Her throat tightened.

“Taking bookings, handling customers, you know the drill.”

She did. Because she’d done all of that and more for Charles Air, but she was a goddamned pilot. “I want to fly, Dad.”

Sean held up his hands. “I know you do. I told him that.”

She could just imagine Ron’s smug expression when he had. He wasn’t exactly the poster boy for equality. Come to think of it, that should have been a warning about his son.

“Pretty cocky of him to offer a job when I have one,” she said.

Sean stabbed at his cooling tuna melt with his fork. “Darlin’, he can do the math.” He looked up, nailed her with his steel-blue eyes. “And so can I. How much money is there?”

It was the first time he’d asked her about the business in ages. And she was going to have nothing but bad news for him. Her stomach twisted. “Some…”

“Do we need to shut down properly?”

The twist tightened. “Maybe for a little while. Just until the insurance coughs up to fix the rotor.”

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