Staying Grounded (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 1) Read online

  “Well then, yeah, I’m staying out of trouble.”

  “That’s my boy. Come see my newest addition.” Bill led him over to the Gobosh G700.

  “It looks like a kid’s toy.”

  “Yeah. Pretty much. The youngins like flying it. Me? I keep to the Skyhawks. They’re loyal and the best to train the new guys on.”

  “So how is business?”

  “Good. More than I can keep up with. You ever get tired of flying those airbuses, give me a buzz. Could always use another instructor ‘round here.” Bill stuffed his hands in his overalls and studied the sleek craft. “Wanna taker her up?”

  Graham contemplated. He was on paid leave, but they didn’t take away his license to fly. “Sure. But I want the Skyhawk.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  After going through a pre-flight check, twice, Graham slid into the cockpit and ran his hands over the instrument panel. He took a few minutes to study the buttons and gauges. It had been too long since he flew anything smaller than a 747. Damn, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning taking his new remote airplane out for a spin.

  As he gained speed down the runway, the vibration of the wheels on the tarmac pulsated through his body, the wind rushing past his craft. Once he reached his destined speed, he pulled back on the yoke and lifted toward the sky. Sure, a Boeing 757 flew faster, but in those tanks, you couldn’t feel the wind currents or the freedom of coasting like in a small plane.

  Graham grinned like a kid in a candy shop and barely refrained himself from yelling out a loud “Woo hoo!”

  Bill sat next to him, nodding his head and looking out the window into the blue sky, across the Atlantic. “You were born to fly these planes, son.”

  Graham flew the plane parallel to the coast, far enough out so he could see the many islands that dotted the sea. “How many islands have you visited, Bill?”

  “Not as many as I’d like. Can tell you the history of every single one, though. Tourists like that kind of stuff. I remember that day you came running to the hangar after school and filled me in on the history of Jewell Island. Asked your dad to take you out camping there the next weekend.”

  “That was an awesome trip. Mom and Dad had just adopted Rachael, so Dad took Luke and me out for a guys’ weekend.” He thought about the skinny eight-year-old girl joining their house. Graham had just turned fifteen and didn’t want anything to do with an elementary school girl who hid behind her long hair. Now she still hid behind her hair or her apron, and he felt guilty for not being there for Rachael. Or Lucy. By the time she came into the family he’d already moved away, barely visiting home to get to know the new kid in the family.

  After burying Keith, he didn’t want to come home anymore. It hurt too much.

  He didn’t avoid his family on purpose, he just loved his freedom. Loved the air. Loved feeling the wind at his back, seeing the beauty around him.

  The irony of it all was that Graham didn’t feel free in his job. He flew where Global Air told him to fly, stayed in high-rise hotels overlooking loud and crowded airports, and flew too high in the air to really appreciate the scenery. In fact, Graham realized, he wasn’t free at all.

  After parking the plane in the hangar and doing his post-flight check, Graham thanked Bill and promised he’d stop by before returning home.

  Home. Texas wasn’t home. His condo housed his minimal clothing and possessions a single man needed. Most of what he cared about he could fit in his carry-on. His friends consisted of fellow pilots, air traffic controllers, and a handful of flight attendants. They weren’t people Graham would call upon for any type of advice.

  In the week he’d been in Maine, not a single one called to check in on him. The first few days after his altercation went viral they all texted and wanted to know the scoop. Once their gossip mill had been filled, they left him alone, not giving one rat’s ass about his wellbeing.

  Wasn’t that what he wanted? To be alone? Graham’s mood plummeted as he drove home. No, not home, his mother’s house. Graham didn’t really belong there either. He loved his mom and sisters, but they were virtually strangers to him as well.

  Rachael had her own shit to deal with so he didn’t feel right about unloading on her, although maybe she felt as alone as he did. He let himself into the house, showered, and tossed on a pair of gym shorts and a Global Air T-shirt and went to find his sister.

  He found her in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of brownies. “How are you not fat?” Graham stuck his finger in the bowl.

  Rachael screeched and jumped back, fear in her eyes as she clutched at her neck.

  Shit. He didn’t mean to sneak up on her. Trying to lighten the mood he licked the chocolate batter off his finger. “Oh my God. This is amazing.”

  She smiled, just a little. “It’s just the batter. Wait until the brownies are done. I’m adding a coconut filling and chocolate almond frosting. Kind of like an Almond Joy.”

  “It’s settled then. I’m moving in. What’s for dinner?”

  Rachael shook her head. “Typical guy. Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen,” she mumbled.

  Guilt spread to the bottom of his gut. He had helped Rachael get away from an abusive relationship, and didn’t want to pry into her personal demons. The Riley siblings had an unspoken rule about not forcing details out of each other. When they were good and ready, they’d talk. They’d all been through some sort of hell before being adopted, and a little bit of hell since—but that was mostly their own doing, except for Rachael.

  “I’m sorry, Rach. I never meant…” Graham ran his hands through his short hair and leaned against the counter, facing his sister. “If you ever want to talk about it. You know, one messed up kid to the other, I’m all ears.”

  Rachael’s enormous blue eyes were hidden behind her long, blonde bangs. “Thanks. You too.”

  He didn’t really want to go there, but he figured he’d lead by example. “For the record, I’m not a violent person. I don’t want you to ever be scared of me.”

  “I know.” She scraped the batter into a glass dish, then added a layer of white coconut goo, topped it with the rest of the batter, and placed it in the oven.

  “Actually, the dickhead at the airport reminded me of California. I pictured you being treated that way and lost it. I don’t condone violence, but I’ll stand up for a woman whether she be my sister, co-worker, or stranger on the street.”

  “You’re a good guy, Graham.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I have my faults,” he teased.

  “You’ll get cleared to fly in no time and then you can get back to your life.”

  She didn’t say it with any malice or edge to her voice, but with the honesty and straightforwardness he’d always loved and admired in his sister. The implication that his life wasn’t here in Maine with his family stung. And she was right. His life wasn’t in Maine.

  But it wasn’t in Texas either.

  Chapter Nine

  Maggie

  “Guess who came by this morning?” Mackenzie handed Maggie her coffee with a smile. “Mr. Sexy Ass.”

  “I thought I was supposed to guess.”

  “Yeah, well, you took too long.”

  Maggie shrugged as she sipped her latte. “Good for him. I’m sure he’s already packed, ready to head home.”

  “Nope. I’m staying for a while,” a deep, familiar voice said from behind, causing her to nearly spill her latte. Maggie glared at Kenzie.

  “Came by and hasn’t left yet, I meant to say.” Her perfidious friend winked and turned away, pretending to look busy behind the counter.

  Slowly, Maggie turned. “Mr. Riley. Nice to see you. Have a lovely day.”

  Before she could walk away he grabbed her arm and held her in place. “Come sit with me for a minute.”

  “I can’t. I…”

  “It’s Saturday. You’re not working.”

  “Yes, well, I have a life. Things to do, you know.” Maggie tried to cross her arms, but with one ha
nd wrapped around her coffee and the other arm ensconced by his strong hand, she couldn’t move. His fishhook grin caused her girly parts to tingle and she cursed her weakness for Graham. “I thought you’d be gone by now. Did Dr. Warren clear you?”

  Graham moved his hand to her lower back and guided her to his table in the back corner. Her traitorous legs followed him so willingly. “See. You do care.”

  “On a professional level, yes.” Maggie sat in the chair he pulled out and rested her hands in her lap.

  “Mm-hm.” Graham turned his chair around and straddled it, resting his arms across the top, grinning. He should have looked foolish between the mischief in his eyes and the boyish way he sat. Instead he charmed and captivated her.

  “What’s going on?” Needing a distraction, she picked up her cup and slowly sipped her coffee.

  “Will you give me a few hours this morning?”

  “To do what?”

  He quirked his eyebrow and lowered his baby blues to her lips. Yeah, she’d need a change of underwear soon. “I want to show you something.”

  Maggie choked on her coffee, imagining all the wonderful things he could—he had—shown her.

  “No, not that. However…if that’s what you want…”

  “Graham,” she warned.

  “I like it. Much better than that Mr. Riley crap. Two hours. That’s all I ask. And no, not for that. For that I’d need all night.”

  Ignoring the innuendo, she asked, “And what will we be doing for these two hours?”

  “Great. It’s settled. Come on.” Graham stood, fixed his chair, grabbed her coffee in one hand and her hand in the other, and led them out of the coffee shop, not giving her a chance to reply.

  “Wait,” she said once he had her buckled into the front seat of his Jeep. “Where are we going? You can’t just kidnap me like this.”

  “Can’t kidnap the willing, sweetheart.” He gave her a chaste kiss on the lips before rounding the hood and sliding into the driver’s seat.

  The playful disposition in Graham caused her heart to flutter and her stubborn mouth to turn up slightly. Yet she wanted to stew. It didn’t take long to reach their apparent destination, a tiny airstrip outside of town.

  She let him escort her to a small plane. “Graham?”

  “Ever been in one of these?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Have you ever seen the coast of Maine from a bird’s eye view?”

  “I’m a human. I prefer to view things from my own two legs.”

  Graham moved his gaze from the plane to her bare legs, which instantly pebbled with goose bumps. “And while those are fine legs, Maggie O’Fallon, I’d like to show you the world from a different perspective.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you scared of flying?” Graham inched closer, his space invading hers, his clean-laundry scent filling the air.

  Maggie shook her head.

  “Of me?” He inched closer, his mouth a breath of air away, making her practically beg for his soft lips to touch hers. Maggie wanted to nod, but shook her head instead. “Good,” he said joyfully and pulled away, leaving her in want. “I need to do a pre-flight inspection and then we’ll be on our way.”

  An older man wearing work bibs with a greasy bandana hanging out of his front pocket came up to them with a clipboard in hand. “I ran a thorough inspection but I know you’ll want to do yours as well.” He handed Graham the information before turning to Maggie. “First time?”

  Maggie shook her head.

  “Bill, this is Maggie O’Fallon. Maggie, Bill. He taught me to fly.”

  “Best damned pilot I’ve ever seen. You’re in good hands.” He patted Graham on the shoulder before walking away.

  “Let me help you up. You can get situated while I do my thing.”

  “You don’t seriously think I’m going up there with you, do you?”

  “You said you weren’t scared.”

  Of flying, no. Of being in a confined space with Graham? Hell yes. His hands would be safely on the wheel, or whatever the thing he steered the plane with was called, but hers would be free and he would be…close. “Fine. But this doesn’t change anything between us.”

  “Just a friendly flight, Maggie. It’s not like I can pull over and take advantage of you while I’m flying.” As if reading her thoughts, he added, “You, however, will need to keep your hands to yourself. I can’t focus on the sky if you’re draping yourself all over me.” He lifted her into the seat, patted her thigh, and whistled while he inspected the tiny plane.

  She’d actually flown in quite a few charter planes when she was younger and her dad used to take her on trips, but none as small as the two-seater. Those trips pretty much stopped when her brother died. Her father had continued traveling, more than ever, and Maggie was left at home with her mother who kept to her room.

  Shoving the painful memories aside, Maggie buckled up and rubbed her hands in anticipation. Truth be told, she actually loved being in the small crafts. She missed seeing the beauty of the earth from up high, not from a commercial jetliner where passengers were packed like sardines in a tin can.

  “Nervous?” Graham asked as he hopped into the pilot’s seat.

  About her strong attraction to a man who couldn’t be more wrong for her? For being in close corridors with the man who made her weak in the knees and made her throw caution to the wind? Yes. “No.”

  Graham pushed a series of buttons, his hand sliding over the instrument panel like a lover’s caressing a beloved body. She turned from her crazy erotic thoughts and gazed out over the runway, anxious for their flight.

  Being flown over the beauty of Maine by a sexy pilot was more romantic then she imagined it would be. His tight, yet easy grip on the instruments made her wish he’d touch her in the same way. He looked in complete control of the plane; his body relaxed as if the cockpit was made just for him. Sitting in the pilot’s seat gave him a boyish charm, yet there was nothing young and innocent about him.

  For the next hour they pointed out islands and mountains. Graham impressed her with his knowledge of the state and they enjoyed one-upping each other with facts. “Ever been to Bar Harbor?”

  “Oh, that’s my favorite place on earth. The Zakynthos Islands in Greece may have the most majestic Blue Caves and Machu Picchu has breathtaking views, but Acadia National Park is the most magnificent place in the United States. I remember hiking up Cadillac Mountain when I was eight. My dad scoffed at the tourists who drove the road. We used to—” Maggie shrugged before she said more than she planned on sharing.

  “Used to what?”

  “Nothing. It was a long time ago.”

  “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  “No, you didn’t. I have wonderful memories hiking and camping in Bar Harbor. It was just…a long time ago.” Back when her family was happy. When her mother would welcome her and Liam off the school bus with milk and homemade chocolate chip cookies and surprise field trips to the ocean. They’d climb on rocks, collect seashells and sand dollars, and make craft projects for their dad when he was away.

  They’d camped in Bar Harbor when Liam was a toddler. Her father had him strapped in a baby backpack carrier while she walked ahead of them, her mother calling out for her to be careful and not get so far ahead that she couldn’t see them. They’d stop every ten feet it seemed, to pose for pictures, a camera always in her father’s hands.

  Back when her parents laughed even with Ed was overseas, calling every night to tell his wife and children how much he loved and missed them. Back before illness and death and emotional decay took over her family.

  “So you’re a world traveler, huh?”

  “That was a long time ago.” Her voice sounded throaty, and Maggie refused to reminisce about what could have been.

  Graham didn’t push the subject. He slowly turned the plane around, the sun now on their right. The rest of the flight was quiet, with both of them too captivated with the view. When he landed
the plane safely and helped Maggie out, she finally let her tense body relax. She went to the Jeep and waited for him to finish his post-flight inspection and file whatever paperwork pilots had to complete.

  He slid into his seat, still somber. She didn’t mean to kill the mood, but the few fond childhood memories she had didn’t bring a smile to her face. Instead they were a constant reminder of what no longer existed in her life.

  When they reached Route One, Graham turned south instead of north. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m famished. Figured we’d grab a bite to eat before I bring you back.”

  “Were you going to ask me if I was hungry?”

  “Sure. You hungry?” He flashed her his trademark grin and kept on driving.

  Maggie shook her head and laughed, not able to stay in a dismal mood around Graham. “Do you ever not get your way?”

  “Not until recently.” He glanced over at her and she looked away.

  Expelling an over-dramatic sigh, Maggie said, “I guess I could eat.” Her stomach decided to growl at that moment, but with the top down and the wind in their faces, she didn’t think he heard her.

  “I’d say.” He laughed.

  She thought wrong. “Whatever. A quick lunch and then I need to go home. Sweetie Pie wasn’t expecting to be home alone today.”

  “She stays home alone when you’re at work. I doubt she knows the difference between Tuesday and Saturday. Besides, I asked Kenzie to let her out.”

  “You what?” Maggie turned in her seat, tucking her foot under her butt. “You had no right.”

  “Just as a precaution. You know, in case Sweetie Pie could tell the difference between a weekday and a weekend.”

  She really wanted to be mad at him, but Graham thinking of her dog softened her outburst, and that sort of pissed her off. Lifting his sunglasses, he peered at her. “You’re not really mad, are you?” He pulled to the shoulder and stopped the car.

  She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak without revealing too much of herself. Parts that she needed to keep hidden or she’d turn into her mother. Oh, she wanted to rip his head off. But why?