Page 14 of The Pilot & the Athlete

He’d blamed Paul for everything from Carrie being ‘confused’ to her going on a mountain bike ride by herself and losing control because she was ‘out of her head’. Darian had immortalized Carrie and vilified Paul. Her brother had learnedto stay quiet about his convictions, except with their family. He couldn’t disparage the hero of their town and still have clients come to him as a trusted lawyer, so he hid the hurt and bitterness. Shay feared it was festering inside him. She’d worried about it even before she saw Paul again.

It had been—Shay did some quick math—eleven years ago. She didn’t know if her brother would ever move on from Carrie, find love and happiness. He was a supportive and loving brother and had always been there for her. He’d never missed a World Championship or any of her important events. If only she could help him more.

Going after Paul would be the opposite of helping Darian. Her brother would be livid. In reality, she knew there was no ‘her and Paul’, but that kiss was the stuff daydreams were made of. Especially after her lifelong crush had rescued her so gallantly. Paul was every bit the hero her hometown made him out to be. She let her mind catalog all his impressive qualities so it wouldn’t drift back to the absolute horror of being kidnapped by those scuzzy men.

“We’re descending to our destination,” Paul said through the speakers.

“Already?” She glanced through the open cockpit door. Then she hurried to unbuckle and walk in, sitting in the co-pilot seat and staring at the handsome pilot. “Where are we crashing?”

He didn’t look at her but focused on all the controls and whatever he had to do to land the plane. “We don’t speak of ‘crashing’ while flying an airplane,” he teased.

“Ha. Gotcha. Where will be residing for the next week, Pilot Paul?”

“Coleville, Montana. We have a safehouse here because ofmutual friends.” He glanced at her and smiled. “A safe ranch for you to ‘crash’.”

“A whole ranch? That slaps.”

He chuckled but focused back on what he was doing. The plane swooped down, and Shay dragged her gaze away from his appealing profile. There weren’t many lights down there and she could make out jagged, dark peaks with the light from the stars and a half moon. Definitely rural, mountainous Montana. She’d never been to Montana, but her home state of Colorado was green and lush with mountains and valleys galore. She’d feel right at home. Especially with Paul by her side.

“And you’ll stay with me?” She didn’t mean to make her voice pitch up, but it did anyway.

Paul lifted his hand briefly from the controls and placed it over hers. He gave it a squeeze and his brown gaze filled her with hope and longing. “I’ll stay with you and take you to the trial next week.”

“Thank you.” Her lip quivered and tears stung her eyes. The trial loomed in front of her, and the pain, fear, and agony of tonight surfaced as well. Had Turner and Meacham really died defending her?

“Shay, give me one moment and we can talk more.” Paul’s voice was soft and understanding. He pulled his hand back and focused. “We want to land in one piece and not crash,” he said with a lilt of teasing. “Please buckle up.”

“Oh!” She buckled in, pushing away the stress and pain of this night as she stared out the plane windows while they descended. The runway lights were bright, and a few lights signaled the small airport. A cluster of more lights was probably from a nearby town. She glanced at Paul, impressive in his element of flying this expensive jet.

They eased down and landed with a smooth run along the pavement.

“Lit! I’ve never landed without bouncing,” she said.

“Iaman expert.”

“There it is. It’s an easy flex for our cocky Air Force pilot.”

Paul chuckled. “I have been accused of that before.” He winked and then taxied the airplane past smaller planes and to a spot off by itself. “Aiden doesn’t love leaving his jets exposed to the elements, but what can you do?”

“Like leaving a fancy car out of the garage?” she asked.

“Worse, actually.” He messed with different buttons and tilted his head outside. “Our ride.”

She peered through the plane windows. A large four-door truck pulled up not far away from the plane. A man climbed out. She couldn’t see his face clearly but his strong build, jeans, T-shirt, cowboy boots, and a ten-gallon hat labeled him a cowboy, and a tough one at that.

“You know these people well?” she asked.

“I’ve worked with them a few times. They’re great.” He glanced out and said, “It’s Clint. That’s good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Clint is the sheriff of Coleville, a trained warrior, and a great guy.”

“So he’ll help protect me in small town Montana? You didn’t need any help back in Arizona with those gangstas all over me.”

Paul smiled and fiddled with more controls. The jet’s loud motors quieted. “It’s true I don’t need help, but another pair of eyes is always good. And Clint won’t flirt with you like his brothers would.” He stood and she followed suit.

He grabbed his backpack and slung it on one shoulder.

---