CHAPTER 2
Cal
I glance down at my brother as he zips his daughter’s coat. I can’t help it. I can’t let the moment get past me. It’s just too damn good.
Because my brother’s wearing a tiara.
“I’m not sure the in-flight headset is gonna fit over that, Finn. Just saying.”
He looks up at me, his deadly expression conveying a silent warning: One more word about my fucking tiara and I’ll kick your ass.
Finn double-checks that his daughter, Jasmine, is all zipped up. My niece’s jacket matches her pink sneakers. Her sneakers match her pink shorts, top, backpack, and hair barrettes. Even her socks are pink.
But today, for some reason, she’s insisted it’s her daddy’s turn to wear the pink rhinestone crown.
In the years since Jasmine was born, Yosemite Ranch has seen more pink than in all the days since its 1865 founding. This little girl is a sparkle of femininity in a sea of testosterone, and she has all six of us MacLaine men wrapped around her little finger.
We’re good with that.
Jasmine turns to me, her pale-blue eyes huge. “We’re going in the helicopter, Uncle Cal! We’re flying to Cisco! It’s in California, and there’s a horse there that Daddy might buy!”
“I know, Pinkie.” I reach down and tuck a curl behind a little ear. “You look pretty excited about it.”
She nods, bouncing on her tiptoes.
Finn stands, brushes off his jeans, and looks around for Declan. “Need a hand with anything?” he shouts out.
“Negative!” Our second-youngest brother, Declan, rounds the rear of the Bell Long Ranger helo, clipboard in hand. “Preflight is complete. We’re fueled up and ready to rock and roll.” He stops in his tracks, raises an eyebrow at Finn, and smirks. “’Sup, Princessprincess?”
Finn still isn’t amused.
“Hey!” Jasmine yells out, pointing to the sky. “Whose plane is that?”
All of us turn to watch a sleek private jet approach the narrow landing strip of the Twenty Mile Municipal Airpark, which is not exactly a destination for corporate jetsetters.
In fact, if it weren’t for the ranch and our StellaR Tech business, the only things flying around here would be sweat bees and damselflies.
“Expecting anyone?” Declan asks.
“Nope,” I say.
“Not me,” Finn says.
“Me neither!” Jasmine adds.
The four of us make our way across the near-empty hangar, a cavernous Quonset hut that always reminds me of an old aluminum can half buried in the dirt. Our footsteps echo as we walk through and exit the other side, just as the jet comes to a stop on the tarmac.
Declan whistles. “Sweet ride. That’s a Gulfstream 550. Maybe the Kardashians are finally here, ready to force me to serve as their own personal—”
“Watch it,” Finn stops him before he can say anything off-color around Jasmine.
I finish Declan’s sentence for him. “Personal aviation mechanic?” Finn and I laugh.
Then I stop laughing.
Because the most spectacular woman I’ve ever seen in my damn life emerges from the cabin door and makes her way down the stairs.
A pilot assists her, like she’s the queen or something.
Her slender hand slides along the railing as her ridiculously high heels click on each of the steel steps, hips swinging with every movement.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Day-umm.
I feel my jaw unhinge.
The questions crash around inside my poor overstimulated brain, each one fighting to get to the top of the list.
Who is she?
That long red hair can’t be her natural color, right?
How did she shove that total smoke show of a body into such a tight little business suit?
And what the absolute hell is she doing here, two miles outside of downtown beautiful Sweetbriar, Nevada?
I take a gulp of air.
“The Municipal Airpark has officially received an upgrade,” Declan says.
“You got that right,” Finn agrees.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. She’s on the ground now. She takes out her phone to fix her lipstick.
I can’t stand those women, the kind that touch up their lipstick in public.
Next, she tosses her phone into a very expensive-looking leather bag, hooks it onto a shoulder, and kicks back a heel. She reaches around, trying to adjust something with her shoe.
How fucking long are those legs?
The shoe returns to the ground, but it looks like whatever issue she’s having hasn’t been addressed, so she bends forward.
Oh, come on. Really? She needs to bend over like that? In the way that reveals perfect handfuls of hip, ass, and upper thigh?
“You good?” Finn arrives at my side.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you’re good.”
“Of course I am. When am I not?”
The woman straightens. Tosses back her hair. And then she slides those mirrored black sunglasses halfway down her pretty little nose and our eyes lock.
I suck air between my teeth.
She pushes the sunglasses back into place and pivots.
She walks—no, that’s not walking. That’s something else entirely.
She’s strutting like a cat to the airport office, rolling her hips, somehow staying upright in those dumbass heels while the two slobbering pilots march behind her, in charge of her luggage.
I’m a very smart man. I’ve been all over the world and I speak three languages.
I was a lieutenant in the Navy and led a sixteen-man SEAL team.
To top it off, I have a degree in computational physics from the Naval Academy.
And I still don’t know how this woman hasn’t face-planted into the tarmac in those shoes.
A little voice manages to bring me back from the brink.
“Who is that pretty lady, Daddy? How does she even walk in those shoes?”
“Well…”
Declan arrives at my other side. “Uncle Cal thinks she walks just fine in those shoes. Isn’t that right, Uncle Cal?”
“Super fine,” I hear myself mumble.
Declan slaps me on the back. “All right-eee. If we don’t head out soon, I’ll have to file a new flight plan. Everyone ready?”
A few minutes later, I give Jasmine one last hug for the road and lift her up to the chopper and into her dad’s arms. I watch as Finn buckles her in, checks to ensure the harness is snug, and places the headset over her ears.
As always, it’s a joy to see what a good dad my brother has become.
But that always comes with a twinge of heartache, because I have to watch him do it without Amy, Jasmine’s mom.
No doubt about it. We MacLaines have had our share of loss. For me, it’s always there at the edges, reminding me how precious it all is and how it’s my job, as the eldest son, to watch over the family.
It’s an honor. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Declan gives me a thumbs-up and a big smile. I jog backward toward the hangar and wave goodbye. It isn’t long before I see the helicopter rise, bank, and head northwest toward the mountains.