Page 22 of Welcome Home, Cowboy
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Julie said, setting her bag down.
“No one lives forever, honey.” Mr. Adams sat on the bed, then pulled his legs up in front of him.
Nodding, Julie turned around to start digging in her bag. She’d brought some massage oils and plastic massagers she’d had at home. When she turned back around, Mr. Adams had taken off his shirt. She froze for a moment, taking in his rolled and wrinkled midsection, so hairy it looked like he was wearing a large toupee on his chest.
“Um.” She’d imagined that he’d at least wear a tank top. This was fine, though. She could work better if his shirt was off. Forcing a smile, she met his gaze. “Okay. Ready to get started?” she asked enthusiastically.
Sweet old Mr. Adams shook his head. “Not yet, darling. It’s your turn.”
Either he had something in his left eye or he was winking at her.
“My turn?” she asked, lowering her brows.
“I took my shirt off. Now let’s see what you have under that top of yours.”
Julie’s mouth fell open. She took a small step backward, nearly tripping over her bag. No way she’d heard that correctly. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me right. Take it off, baby doll. I’ll double your pay.” He winked again.
Ew!
“I came here to help with your back pain.”
“And believe me, you will.” His dentured smile was no longer sweet. Sweet Mr. Adams was reallydirtyMr. Adams.
Julie grabbed her bag without saying anything else and sprinted for the door. She’d rather dress up like a chicken at the Chow Bucket. Slamming the door behind her, she went to her car and got in. With a glance in her rearview, she saw that Mr. Adams hadn’t followed. That was good. Because, elderly or not, she had a good mind to run him over right about now.
She shuddered and pressed the gas. Job searching was over for the morning. She’d intended to grab something to eat once she left here, but her appetite was now gone, maybe forever. Instead, she drove home to take a shower and scrub the image of Mr. Adams out of her brain.
Chapter 7
Lawson shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked toward the Air Station. This afternoon he was teaching a bunch of ripe pilots the ins and outs of the new flight training manual for one of the newer-model helicopters. It was boring reading material. Boring as hell for everyone involved, including him.
His pace slowed as he heard the familiarva-dup, va-dup, va-dupof an incoming helo. It was in the sky, just crossing over the tree line on its way to the landing pad half a mile away.
Va-dup. Va-dup. Va-dup.
A cold sweat broke on his forehead. He couldn’t remove his gaze from the machine. Even though he’d been forcing himself to watch videos of helicopters for the last week, seeing the real thing was a different story. What if it went down and he needed to run? Which way would he go? What if it crashed into the training building? There’d be casualties. He’d need to help with the rescue efforts.
Va-dup. Va-dup.
Flashes of his last time in the sky—last time being conscious at least—crossed his mind. Those last few seconds had seemed like eternity. There’d been a million voices all screaming and barking orders at once. Then there’d been nothing. Just silence and a heart-crushing awareness of death.
Va-dup. Va-dup. Va-dup.
Lawson jumped as someone grabbed his shoulder from behind. He whirled on his feet.
“Whoa, man. It’s just me.” Micah leveled him with a gaze. “You all right?”
The sound of the helicopter faded into the background.
“Yeah.” Lawson exhaled and offered a halfhearted laugh. “Sorry. You caught me off guard.” Similar to the way he’d done to Julie the other night. What was her crash and burn story, he wondered, knowing she had one.
“You were watching the helicopter,” Micah said.
Lawson nodded. “Yeah. I miss being up there.” He glanced at Micah. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re a civilian now. I thought you’d be hard-pressed to ever set foot on the military base again.”
Micah adjusted the mirrored aviator sunglasses on his face. “I’m meeting Dad here. We’re going to go grab a bite to eat at the Officers’ Club.”
