Page 12 of Fighting Gravity

Rosie sat down next to her friend. “Want to talk about why you look so spooked?”

“I’m worried about him. Crashing wasn’t supposed to be a real possibility. What if that cocky bastard lets his ego get in the way?”

Rosie shook her head. “Chen’s smarter than that, an amazing pilot, and Tate wouldn’t allow him to fly if he wasn’t ready.”

Elle nodded glumly. “You staying this weekend?”

“I can’t. I’m having brunch with my sister on Sunday.”

Elle’s perfect eyebrows shot up. “Really? Her idea or yours?”

“Hers. She’s almost six months clean.”

“So?” The tone was uncharacteristically venomous. But Elle knew Violet had taken advantage of Rosie more than once. When clean and sober, her sister was everything a sister should be. Until she wasn’t. Then she stole money or Rosie’s handbags to sell.

“I’ve learned my lesson. I only use Target purses when I see her now.”

She started picking up the inspirational imagery she’d brought for their meeting. She’d also brought lists of key words that she thought might resonate and allow them to start forming design goals. Their first hotel design meeting, a visioning session, would have been a good one.

Elle picked up one of the packets of images and thumbed through it. “We didn’t even talk about the hotel. I’m sorry you came all this way for no reason.”

“It wasn’t for no reason if I was at all useful to you or Tate.”

Elle smiled. “Don’t think I didn’t see what happened there.”

Rosie ignored the comment. “We’ll try again next week.” She slung her laptop bag over her shoulder and blew a kiss to her friend from the doorway. “Talk to Chen if you’re worried, but he’s an incredible pilot.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “He’ll say the exact same thing.”

Rosie dumped her bags in the passenger seat of her car in the steaming parking lot outside the hangar. She took her phone from her purse and opened her music app. Upbeat pop music seemed inappropriate. Moody Irish rock better matched her current state of mind.

Movement in a convertible a few spots down caught her eye. She recognized the tousled blond-streaked brown locks. Tate. He was just sitting there, alone. Again, she acted without thinking as she clicked toward him in her heels. Thank God she’d worn another dress. It was so hot that sweat formed on her thighs after only a few steps.

As she got closer, she saw that he was typing on his phone, thumbs flying. She rethought approaching him. Maybe he wanted privacy. But then his clear gaze collided with hers and she kept walking because she had to. She was compelled.

He climbed out of the newer-model Mustang. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, she noticed, revealing the veins on his forearms. She ignored the fluttering in her stomach—and other places. He looked so strong. So safe. He looked nothing like that jerk, Chad. He didn’t seem capable of any kind of cruelty, especially after what she’d witnessed a few minutes ago.

“Sorry, I saw you sitting there and just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she rushed out. “I mean, I know you’re not okay, but—”

“Thank you.”

She nodded, hovering. Why didn’t she know what to do with her hands when he looked at her? And why did she want to hold him again when she should just walk away to let him grieve? “Do you want to talk about George, or is it too soon?”

A small smile surfaced as he leaned against his car. “Not too soon. George helped start our program ten years ago. He’s funny, cocky, a lot like Chen. He made OrbitAll the company it is today.” His smile faded as he slumped against the driver’s door. “His death is my fault. I shouldn’t have let him leave. I should have offered him more money, more anything, to get him to stay.”

His pained, pinched face struck her heart. Rosie stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. His muscular arms closed around her waist. She exhaled against his neck and thought she felt him shiver.

“Is that fair?” she asked softly. His large hands on the small of her back feltlovely.

“Probably not,” he replied after a pause. “He wanted to be closer to his family.”

“Understandable. Family is important.”

She felt his head shake. “For some people. For me, OrbitAll is most important.” Tate’s voice vibrated in her own chest. He dropped his hands from her waist, trailing a finger and his gaze up her arm; mindlessly or intentionally, she didn’t know. She took a step backward. His aqua-amber eyes pierced her. “What’s most important to you, Rosie?”

“Truth. Trust,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Then trust me when I tell you that you helped me today. I’m glad you were here. I’ve been glad since you first walked into the hangar.”

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