Chapter 6
6
“Oh God, how long was I out this time?” Noel blinked rapidly, her vision clearing to find Landon’s eyes on her, his lips twitching in the barest hint of a smile. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. She was determined to coax a full smile from him before their trip ended.
“Not too long,” he replied smoothly. “And don’t worry—no snoring, no drooling. Although,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “you might have mumbled a bit while sleeping.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Really? What did I say?” A wave of anxiety rushed through her. Please, God, don’t let it be about how ridiculously attractive I find him.
A deep chuckle escaped him, a rich, warm sound that settled in her chest, making her heart skip a beat. She still yearned for a wide smile, but this laugh—oh, she’d take that any day.
“No,” he admitted, his amusement evident. “I was just messing with you. No mumbling.”
“Hmm, a real jokester, aren’t you?” she teased, feigning annoyance.
“Not usually,” he confessed, the hint of a grin lingering.
Noel sat up straighter, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth it, ensuring she didn’t look too disheveled. “I guess I bring out the humor in you,” she quipped, smoothing her hands over her pants to straighten them.
Landon’s gaze remained fixed on her, his eyes filled with something softer, something contemplative. “You always seem to carry a good sense of humor. Maybe it’s contagious.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his, the sincerity in his expression catching her off guard. “Life’s too short not to find humor wherever you can,” she replied softly.
“Even in your job?” he asked, his tone almost reverent.
Her breath hitched, and she nodded slowly. “Yes. Especially in my job.”
“I suppose you’ve seen the worst in humanity.”
“I’ve spent my entire career in child protective services. I’ve seen things no one should ever have to see—abuse and neglect. But I’ve also witnessed the kind of courage and resilience in children that would put the bravest soldier to shame.”
Landon’s eyes softened. “I’d bet that to many of those kids, you’re the hero.”
His words caught her off guard. She cocked her head to the side as she stared, taking him in. “This comes from the man who works for a security firm after having been an FBI agent. I have a feeling between the two of us, you would be considered the hero.”
He held her gaze, his expression serious. “I’ve had moments in my career when I felt that my mission or my actions were heroic,” he admitted. “But that’s not the same as being a hero.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “I have a feeling you and I could argue the definition of heroism all day.”
He chuckled again, and just as before, she allowed the sound to wash over her, warm and comforting. She glanced at his phone, held casually in his hand, and thought of how he tapped on the keyboard after Mike Westerly climbed aboard. “So,” she asked, her tone playful, “what did you find out about me?”
Landon’s eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by her question. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Noel couldn’t suppress her laughter, though she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, glancing over to ensure Mike was still snoring away.
Landon’s gaze sharpened, narrowing slightly as he leaned in. “What makes you think I needed to learn anything about you?”
She didn’t flinch, meeting his intense gaze with equal resolve. Leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “You strike me as the kind of man who doesn’t leave anything to chance. This assignment came together fast—Pamela and the kids flew to Jamaica yesterday, and her demands hit Stan last night. The Fugates worked with their attorney to set the plan in motion, and thanks to their judge friend, both of our agencies were on board by morning. I figure you’d want to know exactly who you were partnering with.”
Landon pulled his bottom lip inward, biting down slightly, clearly weighing his response. The flicker of admiration in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed, and Noel waited patiently, knowing he was calculating the best way to answer.
She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s okay, Landon. I’m not offended. Believe me, there are no skeletons in my closet for you to find. But I am curious what you already know about me.”
The air left his lungs in a long, slow exhalation. “I found out that you are who you say you are. Noel Lennox. Thirty-two years old, and no police record.”
“Considering I work in social work with children, it’s paramount that I have a clean record.”
“Understood. I wondered why the judge recommended you specifically," Landon said, his voice calm yet probing. "Especially since you don’t seem to have any prior connection to the Fugates. I had my team look into a few of the cases you’ve worked on.”
A soft gasp escaped her lips. The thought of her private cases being scrutinized unsettled her.
As though he understood her concerns, he said, “I don’t know the particulars. I just know what was part of the public record.”
“What did you discover?”
“You worked on the high-profile case in the news last year. Where the children witnessed their father killing their mother and then threatened to kill them.”
Her body remained still, though her heart raced. She had no words to add to his straightforward summary.
“You also spent two years in one of the toughest areas of Billings, working with homeless children, some of whom were being trafficked.”
With each revelation, it became harder to keep her emotions in check, and her hands clenched in her lap as Landon continued.
“You’re frequently called to hospitals to assess suspected child abuse cases. And your experience presenting evidence to the courts—especially when parental rights are in question—is well-documented.”
“I take parental rights very seriously,” she finally said, unsure why she defended herself when he made no accusation. “It’s one of the most critical decisions we make as social workers. If we return a child to their birth parents and the abuse or neglect continues, we’ve failed that child. But if we’re too quick to sever parental rights from someone who’s genuinely trying to change, we’ve failed them too. It’s a delicate balance… one we always want to get right.”
Her eyes flickered with emotion. “But sometimes mistakes can be made. I’ve had to go back and change recommendations when that happens. Thank God there haven’t been many over the years.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the small table, his face now inches from hers. The proximity made her pulse quicken. “How do you handle those mistakes?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.
Noel’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained serious. “I could joke about needing a bottle of wine, but humor feels wrong here. Truthfully, I always focus on what’s best for the child. It’s the guiding principle in every recommendation I make.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze never wavering, but she had no idea what he thought of her.
“Then I stand by my earlier comment. To those children, you are a hero.” His words were softly spoken, and the warmth she felt when he chuckled was nothing compared to the intensity of this man speaking with such care. She’d only known him for hours, and while their journey would soon end, she wanted more time with him. More time to talk. To share. To learn. “Can I confess something to you?” she asked, her voice soft but sincere.
His brow furrowed, but he immediately nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“I take every situation seriously. In this case, we have a parent essentially holding her children hostage to make demands on the father. The reality is that they are staying in a luxury beach house in Jamaica. I have no reason to fear for the children’s health or safety, yet I have a job to make sure that their needs are met during this transition. But”—she sighed and wrinkled her nose—“this almost feels more like a vacation trip out of the office. Granted, I won’t be lounging on the Jamaican beach while drinking fruity cocktails with an umbrella sticking out of the top, but I’m being flown in a private jet with amazing accommodations, basically at the whim of a powerful family who reached out to a judge, who tapped my boss for me.”
“You feel guilty.”
His words stated precisely what she was experiencing. She exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yes.”
“The circumstances might not be as dire as you’ve experienced in the past, but in the end, you still have a job to do. You have a parent willing to hold and then bargain her children to get money from their dad. They may not know it now, but if they have a clue of what’s happening, they’ll be upset.”
“I imagine the kids will have questions,” she said, thinking about what she had been told. “If we stick to the Fugates' script, they should be okay—that their mom decided to stay in Jamaica, and their dad sent Mike and a couple of people he trusted to ensure they got home safely.” She shrugged, adding, “It will be up to their dad and grandparents to explain what their mom did.”
She returned his gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. At that moment, she felt less burdened by the guilt, knowing she wasn’t facing this alone.
She leaned back, needing a little distance between them, feeling the heat of his intensity in her lady parts that had been sorely neglected. Her lips curved. “You know a lot about me, Landon Sommers. I feel like I should know something about you since I don’t have secret ways to find out about people. It looks like you’re going to have to talk.”
He scoffed and leaned back in his seat. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything,” she shot back. Looking down at the time on her phone, she said, “We only have another hour. Tell me what makes you tick before we land.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what makes me tick.”
“I don’t believe that. I think you don’t like talking about what makes you tick.”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then twisted his head to look first at Mike, and then out the window. She looked over her shoulder to see Mike still snoring. Turning back to Landon, she found his gaze on her.
“I was born and raised outside of Philadelphia. My dad was a police officer. My mom worked in estate sales. I have a younger brother who works for a tech firm in California. My parents moved to South Carolina several years ago, after my dad retired, wanting warmer weather.”
“Tell me about the estate sales,” she prodded.
His eyes widened, and his chin jerked back. “You’re not going to ask about my dad’s police career and how that affected my choices?”
She smiled, and a chuckle slipped out. “No, I’d rather hear about the estate sales and what drew your mom to that career.”
His lips twitched, and she waited, wanting to know more.
“It happened organically. My mom’s parents had her when they were older, and my grandfather died when she was in her twenties. Her mom didn’t want to live in the house anymore, so she moved in with us for a while. It was tough for my grandmother to clean out her family home. She agonized over every piece of paper, so Mom finally stepped in and said she would handle it all. My grandmother trusted her. Mom looked at every object and decided what to keep, what to sell, what to give away, and what to trash.”
Leaning back in her seat, Noel discovered she was fascinated. “Please, keep going.”
“Eventually, she learned how to empty the house quicker, and that was the start of her new career. She helps people clean out their houses when someone has died or is unable to live alone anymore and the relatives need assistance. Sometimes she just consults, and other times, she handles the entire work herself.”
Landon seemed at ease talking about his mom, and Noel was finally gifted with a small smile. “Your mom loves her job, and she’s helping people.”
He held her gaze as he nodded. “I never thought about it that way, but you’re right. Usually, the praise is heaped on Dad because of being a police officer, but Mom has always been a helper.”
“She meets people when they’re desperate and takes over so they can deal with the emotions of clearing out a family home.”
He continued to nod, seeming to ponder her words.
“What about?—”
Jana walked back through the cabin, interrupting Noel’s question.
“We’ll be landing soon,” she said. “Please make sure everything is stowed away.” She efficiently cleared away the remaining glasses and plates from the latest snack she served.
“I guess we’ll have to save more of the Landon Sommers’ story for another time,” Noel said, smiling. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that while she meant for another time on their trip, it could be interpreted as seeing him after the trip. Would that be so bad? She looked down and fiddled with her seat belt, not wanting him to see the emotions on her face. Because, no… seeing more of him would not be bad.
Jana gently woke up Mike, and he snorted several times as he emerged from a deep sleep. He looked over and grinned. “My mom used to say I could sleep anywhere. I’ve worked on a ranch my whole life. I’ve slept outdoors, in barns, on wooden floors. Have to say, this was a luxury. Can’t believe we’re almost there.”
He hurried to the front to use the restroom, then sat down as they descended into Jamaica.
Landon looked at her, then over at Mike, and said, “A hurricane is approaching from the northeast and will skirt past Jamaica probably as a tropical storm. I spoke to the copilot, and she wants us to handle our business in only about three hours. I will deal with Pamela. The kids will know you, so they’ll be comfortable. Noel, you can talk with them once we are aboard. The last thing we want is to get stuck on the island with a major storm.”
Mike agreed, adding, “If Pamela gives us any problems, I’ll deal with her. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Noel wondered about his meaning, but if Pamela had lived on the ranch with Stan and the children for eleven years before the divorce, she was sure Mike had plenty of experience being around Pamela.
She glanced at Landon, noticing the shift in his demeanor. The easygoing man she’d been chatting with had vanished, replaced by someone focused on the task ahead. His posture was rigid, his expression sharp and serious. While she understood the necessity, she couldn’t help but miss the more relaxed Landon she had been getting to know.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to steady herself as the plane began its descent. Her stomach flip-flopped, and a familiar unease washed over her. Her hands instinctively pressed tightly on the tabletop, her knuckles whitening as she braced against the turbulence.
Closing her eyes, she willed herself to stay calm, but the jarring sensation of the descent made her heart race. Then unexpectedly, she felt the gentle warmth of fingers wrapping around her hand. Her eyes flew open, and she found Landon having leaned closer.
His hand was clasped firmly over hers, anchoring her in the moment. His grip was strong yet reassuring, a silent offering of comfort. He didn’t say a word, and his face remained serious, but his eyes—those steady, deep-set eyes—held a warmth that made her breath catch.
For a moment, the tension in her body eased. The turbulence still rocked the plane, but the panic that had taken hold of her began to dissolve under the quiet strength of his touch. She held his gaze, finding solace not in words but in their unspoken connection.