Page 67 of Operator
“You must be so proud,” one of them I’m not familiar with says.
I meet Gwen’s eyes and hold Violet closer. “I am.”
When everyone is gone and Bunny and Dad are off to bed, I usher a yawning Gwen to my room, where Violet is already fast asleep in her portable crib thing. From my spot on the bed, I watch as Gwen changes into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She washes her face and brushes her teeth in the attached bathroom. After she’s done, she climbs into bed next to me and curls up next to my side. One arm goes around my waist, and she throws one leg over both of mine. I lean down to kiss her hair, my nose filling with the comforting scent of gardenias.
“You okay?” I murmur into her hair.
“I will be,” she says. “As long as you’re with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She tips her eyes up to look at me, her expression earnest. “I love you,” she says, and all stress-ridden thoughts from the day are instantly dispelled.
Cupping her cheek, I take her mouth for a kiss. “I love you, too,” I say against her lips. “I always have, and I always will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SEBRING, NORTH CAROLINA
DEAN
If I ever get myhands on her, the first thing I’ll do is blister her ass. The second will be to wring her neck. I told her not to go up the mountain. Didn’t I tell her she’d get lost? Butno, no one listens to Dean. Now she’s trapped up there in the middle of a goddamned blizzard, and I’m more likely to rescue a popsicle than a determined brunette.
The chopper beats at the wind as I glide through the air. The only good thing about flying through a blizzard is—well, nothing. Not a damn thing. Visibility’s shit. It’s cold as all hell and I told the damn woman not to do anything stupid. I’m gonna freeze off my left nut and she’ll be to blame. I like my nuts just where they are, thank you.
“Should be right up there,” my co-pilot, Luke, says, pointing to a place on the side of the mountain. There’s nothing as far as the eye can see but snow and more snow.
“You sure we can’t leave her here?” I ask over the radio. I told her I’d do just that if she went off alone looking for her sister. Odds are her sister is long gone, shacked up somewhere with her boyfriend instead of freezing her ass off on the mountain.
“Not if you want to keep your job, pretty boy.”
Luke has been a member of the Blue Ridge Search & Rescue for twenty years. As a retired grunt, he knows these mountains better than anyone. Except maybe me.
“Would almost be worth it,” I mutter to myself.
“What was that?” Luke asks.
“Nothing. Not a damn thing. I’ll go down. Camp out for twenty-four. I’ll meet you back here same time tomorrow.”
“You got it. Take care of yourself.”
It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s that damn woman.
I locate her car with ease, but it’s empty and already buried under two feet of snow, erasing whatever tracks could be left behind. The cabin she mentioned is a mile’s walk away. If she survived, I’d bet that’s where she went.
Setting off on the trek, I recount the reasons why I love my job. It’s mostly solitary work, which I enjoy. The pay isn’t too bad, which doesn’t bother me one way or another. And I get to fly helicopters and jump from them on occasion—which is the real draw. It’s the tourists that really tan my hide. The ones whose butts I have to save when they do something stupid.
Which leads me back tothat woman.
Kenna Lynch.
I should have made certain she’d left Sebring so she wouldn’t do exactly this. I could tell from the moment I met her that she was going to be trouble. Oh, she didn’t look like trouble. No, on the outside, she’s prim and proper. I bet she’s the type who keeps a digital planner, neatly outlining her days and organizing everything down to the second. As I trudge through the snow, I wonder if she’s the same way in bed. Twenty minutes of foreplay.Check. Ten minutes of missionary.Check. An acceptable orgasm.Check.
From her neat brunette bob to her classy but expensive boots—yeah. Kenna Lynch is a problem.
My phone rings, distracting me from imagining if she wears lingerie or serviceable cotton panties and an unmatching bra. I had her pegged as the cotton type, but sometimes those buttoned-up women surprised you.
“Yeah?” I say after tapping the button on my smart watch. I need both hands free to traverse through the snow.
