Page 11 of Turbulent Fires

I let out a sigh. “I’ll break my first rule,” I say, not sure if I can keep that promise. I’m pretty set in my ways.

Chloe instantly perks up. “That’s what I want to hear.” And just like that, our therapy session ends. We move on to other topics, and my shoulders relax.

Wolf isn’t pushed out of my mind, but he’s at least sitting in time-out for now. My life will never revolve around a man, not when I have such strong relationships. Maybe, just maybe, a man will eventually fit into my life, but that doesn’t mean I have to be consumed by him. Maybe, eventually, I’ll have a partner, even if it seems doubtful.

Chapter Four

Audrey

One Month Later

I normally love to travel, there’s no doubt about it. But my plane changed last minute, giving a smaller first-class section, and since I was the last to book, I’ve been bumped to what I classify as steerage. It certainly gives me far more understanding of how uncomfortable it is to ride in the back of the plane in cramped spaces with loud passengers.

By the time I sink into my seat, clutching a lukewarm airport coffee, and already irritated by a fighting couple two rows behind me, I’m ready for this flight to be over. I have work to do, though, and no matter how cramped my tray table is, it’s going to get done. I’ve worked in worse conditions, and I’m sure I will again. Everything will be just fine. When I feel as if a moment will never end, I always assure myself that in twenty-four hours, I’ll have forgotten all about this moment, and everything will be just fine.

I pull out my laptop, boot up my notes on the little-known bed and breakfast in Beechwood Springs, North Carolina, and try to ignore the thick static of people settling in all around me. I love what I’m doing, love my reviews, and love even more that I get to work for myself.

I’m not sure what number this is on my blogsite, but I do know that I’m getting more views with each review I put up, and I’ve been getting calls offering jobs. I don’t want those jobs; I want independence, and I’m doing this out of love, not for money.

I’m excited to go to this bed and breakfast. The listing said the place has original doorknobs and creaky floorboards. Yes! That means it has character, exactly what I want to find when looking for places most people have never heard of.

I’ve received many letters from excited owners thanking me for putting a spotlight on their business and telling me how many reservations they’ve received. They’ve invited me back for free stays anytime I want to come. I’d love to take them up on their offers, but I have more places to find. I’m helping people, and that feels wonderful. I’ve yet to find a haunted place, but I’m hoping it will eventually happen... as long as it’s not too scary.

I’m deep into my work, effectively having tuned out all of the noise around me, when a flight attendant pauses beside me, holding a clipboard. I look up to see a polished smile on her painted red lips. She looks perky, clearly her first flight of the day. I can always tell the attendants who’ve been dealing with impatient passengers all day long. They’re at the end of their rope with no patience left.

“Ms. Beach?” she asks.

I’m confused. “Yes?”

“We believe some of your personal items may have been left behind at security. Nothing major, but we’d like to confirm your contact information in case we need to mail anything back to you.”

I pause as I gaze at her, wondering what I could’ve possibly left behind. I travel with almost military-like efficiency as I can’t stand misplacing items I might need. I think back, but they did swab my bag at TSA, so it’s possible something fell out that I wasn’t aware of. Maybe their cameras picked up on it. It’s amazing to me that they could figure this out with the sheer number of people who travel out of the busy Seattle airport.

“Do you know what I lost?” I ask before I rattle off my phone number and address. There’s no reason for me not to trust her.

“They didn’t give me that information,” she quickly tells me. “It could be something small. It happens all the time.” She thanks me and gracefully pivots, quickly disappearing down the aisle. That was strange, but I push it from my mind. I have self-imposed deadlines and no time to obsess about losing a travel-sized lotion.

I return to my computer screen and open my chat window with Chloe. We can’t go too long without speaking, even if it’s only through text messaging. We’ve both been busier than normal lately. Growing up sucks.

Me:Currently flying to Beechwood Springs. Smells like despair and peanuts in the cramped back of the plane. Remind me again why I’ve decided to make this my calling in life.

Chloe:Because you love mysterious places, and nothing makes you happier than helping others. You’re also looking for your first haunted place. Let me know if any ghosts get handsy. Sounds like a good time to me.I chuckle as I read my best friend’s words.

I close my computer for takeoff, then sit back and wait. As soon as the okay comes, I pull it back out and text some more with Chloe, ignoring the work I’ve been fretting over. She makes me laugh again, and I’m about to sign off to get work done when I feel my heart skip a beat.

My laughter quickly vanishes when someone steps into the aisle beside me, and I glance up. My ears start buzzing, and the cramped space becomes nearly claustrophobic, something I’ve never felt in my life.

The man I met a month earlier on another flight... Wolf Young... is standing before me, a wolfish grin on his beautiful lips... and he’s wearing the captain’s uniform. What in the world is going on?

“What are you doing here... and why are you wearing that?” I ask, clear accusation in my voice. His grin grows, that dimple more impressive than ever. He gestures at the seat beside me, that just so happens to be empty, a fact I was extremely grateful for a few moments earlier.

“I believe this is mine,” he says, his voice a mixture of smoke and velvet.

I nearly forgot how sexy this man is in the month since I’ve seen him last. I’ve been telling myself our entire first meeting was a fluke and I’d never see him again. With how hard my heart’s racing, I was clearly wrong about that.

“If you’re the pilot, how can this be your seat?” I counter, not wanting to let him in.

He waves his hand in the air. “I’ve got a good co-pilot,” he tells me. I don’t know what to say to this. Should I be worried that the plane is about to go down? This man seems to take away a few cells in my brain.

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