Page 72 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just . . .” I stop talking, the frustrated tears threatening to make their presence known when I don’t want them to.
“He’s a prick, Em.”
“Yeah, I know. I just wish I could tell him what I really think of him, but I can’t risk the loan.”
“My mom used to tell me never to wrestle with pigs. You both get dirty and the pig really likes it.”
“Smart woman.”
“Just know we all see it and admire you for dealing with him. It shows just how much you want Blue Skies to be yours.”
“Thanks.” I nod but avert my eyes, hoping it will prevent the sting of tears.
“You know Sully is taking one more flight up in an hour, right?”
He has my attention, which I’m sure was his hope. He knows me well enough to know that a jump is just about the only thing that will make me feel better. I’ve been so bogged down with loan stuff and instructing clients, that I need the release . . .
“He is?”
“Yeah. A fun run for some of the crew to get rid of some of the mid-week all-we-do-is-instruct-and-not-jump blues.”
I laugh. “God bless him. What time is he going up?”
“In about an hour. Everyone’s heading out to get a bite to eat and then meeting back here at seven. You want to come?”
I glance at my watch. That gives me seventy minutes to fill out a few reports for Blue Skies and complete the last few things on the new to-do list Travis gave me this morning.
“I can’t go out to eat with you guys,” I say, “but I’ll be geared up at the plane at seven.”
“Cool. It’s been a long time since we just jumped for the hell of it.”
“Amen.”
Leo leaves me be, but I can still hear him rattling around and gathering his things in the office before the bells on the door ring as he shuts it behind him.
I’m not sure how much time passes before the bells on the door go off again.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” I call out to the front of the shop and mentally chastise myself for not taking the time to lock the door.
Then the thought hits that it’s Chris coming back while I’m here alone.
“We’re closed,” I call again just as I turn the corner to the front office and run smack dab into someone.
“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” Grant’s hands are on my shoulders, holding me steady as I look up at him. I hate that I sigh in relief that he isn’t Chris.
“No fire,” I say as I catch my breath. “We’re just closed.”
“So you said.” Grant’s eyes narrow as he studies me, and I know he sees fluster. “Everything okay, Em?” Concern laces his tone, and the sound of it makes me step back quickly.
“Yeah, fine.”
“You sure?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
Why am I suddenly so nervous?
“Em?”
