Epilogue
The airport outside Mineral Lake had two gates, a vending machine that hummed louder than the planes, and a window that looked out over miles of open Montana sky.
Adam liked it.
It felt honest.
He leaned against the big window watching Bianca finish at the check-in counter. She spoke quickly, hands moving while she talked, that familiar spark of excitement lighting her whole face. She had that look when she was about to start something new.
It was one of the things he loved most about her.
Bianca turned and spotted him across the room. Her smile came instantly, easy and bright, and she walked back toward him with the light step she had when she was excited about work.
“Okay,” she said, holding up her boarding pass. “I’m officially traveling again.”
Adam nodded. “For one week.”
“For one week.”
“Then you’re back.”
She grinned. “Then I’m back.”
That had been the agreement with Randi. One trip a month. One week away.
The rest of the time right here in Mineral Lake.
Bianca stepped in close and slid her arms around his waist. The movement felt natural already, like they’d been doing it for years instead of a handful of weeks. “You really are okay with this?” she asked.
Adam looked down at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’m getting on a plane.”
“You’re going to Texas to look at filming locations,” he said calmly. “You’ll be back in a week.”
“Exactly.”
“And you love your job.”
She smiled at that. “I do.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Then why would I want you to stop?”
Bianca leaned her cheek against his chest for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice carried that thoughtful note he’d started recognizing. “You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“A few months ago I probably would’ve already been on three different planes by now.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
She leaned back enough to see his face. “It kind of was. I like the way we’re doing things now.”
“Me too.”
Bianca glanced out the window toward the little commuter jet parked on the runway. The mountains stretched wide behind it, blue and quiet under the afternoon sky. “I’m so glad Randi agreed to my new schedule.”
“I think she understands that she’d have a town full of people ready to drag you back home if you were away too long.”
Bianca laughed. “That’s true.”
Mrs. Hudson alone could probably organize a search party.
Bianca bumped her shoulder lightly against Adam’s arm. “You know what I keep thinking about?”
“The nursery.”
She blinked. “How did you know?”
“You’ve been sketching it in that notebook every night.”
She smiled sheepishly. “I thought I was subtle.”
“You are not subtle.”
Bianca laughed softly. “I’m not ready to jump into it yet,” she said thoughtfully. “But I keep picturing rows of trees and flowers. Maybe a little greenhouse. I could own a nursery and work it when I wasn’t traveling once a month.”
Adam nodded. “You’d be good at it.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
She studied him for a moment. “You really are on board with all this.”
“With what?”
“My life.”
Adam shrugged easily. “Your life includes traveling sometimes, planting things everywhere you go, and turning quiet places into something beautiful.”
Bianca’s smile softened. “You know I’ll be back before Dawn’s wedding, right?”
“Yeah.” He was looking forward to dancing with her.
“I promised her I’d help with the flowers.”
“Then you’d better get back.”
“Oh, I will.”
The airport speaker crackled overhead. “Flight to Dallas now boarding.”
Bianca lifted her boarding pass. “Well.”
Adam pushed away from the window. “Well.”
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him again. “I love our life,” she said. The words were simple, but they carried a quiet certainty.
Adam smiled. “Me too.”
She rose onto her toes and kissed him.
He took over, going deep, and then pausing to let her breathe.
When she pulled back, she grinned. “See you soon, cowboy.”
Adam nodded toward the gate. “Go catch your plane.”
“I will. I love you.”
He kissed her again. “I love you, too. Come home soon.”
“You are home.” Her eyes darkened. “I never figured that out before. That it’s people and not a place.” She smiled. “You’re my home.”
Yeah. That was exactly right.
More Montana Maverick stories are coming early next year! For now, have you checked out the Knife’s Edge, Alaska books? The first book is called Dead of Winter.
Here’s chapter 1:
A brutal sun cut across the icy Alaskan landscape with a defiant glare, brightening instead of warming the frozen runway outside. Mountains rose all around, their jagged peaks rocky through the barren snow, an invitation from Mother Nature to challenge her and lose.
FBI Special Agent Ophelia Spilazi rubbed her arms through her leather jacket, safely ensconced in the warming hut.
The silent, empty, lonely warming hut that truly didn’t provide warmth.
A wooden bench ran alongside one wall, the only furniture in the rickety structure.
Icicles hung from the eaves outside, several long enough to touch the ground, while the meager sun warmed them, making the ice sparkle like diamonds.
The sheer isolation of the area was both intriguing and ominous.
A low hum pierced the thundering silence outside, and her breath quickened in natural response. She craned her neck to see out the frozen, crud-covered window to the unreal blue sky, her shoulders tensing even more as a dot of a plane dipped over the nearest mountain and dropped fast to land.
She blinked.
The small plane hit hard, bounced several times, and skidded back and forth before lurching to a drunken halt to the right of the so-called runway.
The plane shuddered and the engine silenced, the machine looking miniature against the wild mountains that served as a backdrop. Her stomach lurched. She wanted to take another Valium, but she had to at least appear professional to these nomads who chose to live in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
The pilot jumped out, and she stopped breathing at her first sight of him.
Wavy black hair framed a hard-cut face, scruff covered his rugged jaw, and aviator glasses shielded his eyes.
His ancestry was difficult to gauge, but his features were native and strong.
Possibly some Inuit or Indigenous American heritage.
He had to be well over six feet tall, muscular and oddly graceful—even with a slight limp.
She zeroed in on his left leg. He favored it slightly but didn’t allow it to shorten his stride.
Interesting.
He wore a heavy leather jacket, jeans, and dark boots, his shielded gaze having a punch of power, even through the dingy window.
She swallowed, grateful that sunglasses hid her eyes, which had to be wide and full of doubt after witnessing that excruciating landing on the ice.
The man approaching her wasn’t anything close to the old, grizzly, and bearded pilot who’d brought her from Anchorage, the one who had said—repeatedly—that she was nuts to keep going west with a late but devastating winter coming.
She’d imagined someone similar picking her up today.
This guy was beyond imagination.
He pulled open the door and paused, instant heat rippling from him. “Special Agent Spilazi?” That voice. A slow, deep roll that contrasted with the stark beauty around them.
“Call me Ophelia.” She held out a hand, still feeling off-balance. She was tall for a woman, very, but he towered over her.
His dark eyebrows rose, and he shook with her after a brief pause that almost went on too long. His hand was warm, big, and gentle, the shake to the point. “Your title suits you better.”
Electricity zipped along her wrist from the contact. It took her a moment to digest his comment and then hide her surprise, again glad she wore the sunglasses to protect her eyes and expression. Nobody in DC would’ve been so forward upon meeting her.
“You don’t know me,” she countered.
His grunt was neither assent nor denial. He released her and grabbed the two overlarge suitcases, hefting them easily, turning back toward the waiting plane.
Her mouth opened and closed. She scrambled to follow him into the frigid air. “Do you need me to take one of those?” Both had been over the weight limit on her commercial flights and a pain to lug through the Anchorage airport.
“No.” His stride didn’t shorten.
Well, all right. If he wanted to put out his back, it was fine by her.
Although, he didn’t seem to be struggling much.
In the slightest. The guy looked to be in great shape, no doubt about it.
He opened the plane’s cargo door and roughly plunked the suitcases inside, partially turning. “Backpack here or up with you?”
She’d forgotten her pack and couldn’t help the sigh that escaped when she shrugged it off to hand over.
The meager case files she held had been heavier than expected after a long trek.
While she didn’t like having her gun out of reach, she wouldn’t need it in the air.
Shooting her pilot would be a disaster. “Back here is fine.”
He secured the pack with the luggage and gestured around the other side of the plane.
She faltered and then preceded him, carefully picking her way across the ice in her new boots. Once on the other side, she waited for him to open the door to the co-pilot’s seat. Her knees trembled.
Only one eyebrow went up this time. “Afraid to fly?” He leaned against the side of the craft, his stance casual in the freezing cold as if he had all day for a conversation.
The guy didn’t like complete sentences, did he?
She nodded. Before he could launch into the usual lecture, she held up a hand.
“I understand flying is safer than driving, and there are all sorts of measures to keep airplanes accident-free. I also know you could land this on any flat surface and get us to safety.” None of that mattered when anxiety rose.