“You didn’t respect me before I threatened the owner?” Chance asks innocently, glancing over at Miles who’s in the back seat.

“That fucking helped,” I say.

We stormed into the office and for some reason, Chance had more anger toward the asshole than I did, which was a metric shit-ton. He didn’t give the guy much choice between giving back the routes that had been stolen or eating through a straw for the next few months. The shithead agreed to call the clients he’d poached and tell them he’d solely been filling in. That he’d continue to do so until Lovering Air has a replacement pilot. So generous of him.

Chance was scary as fuck. For once, I’m glad his anger was aimed at someone else.

“You didn’t exactly welcome us into your life with open arms,” I remind him.

“I—”

“Brother, it’s okay. Especially after that.” I clap him on the shoulder while I man the steering wheel with the other hand.

I’m driving us back to the Lovering office because I need to fly today’s routes while Mom and Miles work on finding a new pilot.

“You’re the one who punched a guy back there. I only threatened,” Chance says. “Though I have to admit I’d have liked to remove the teeth from that smug little mouth of his.”

“Your threat was enough,” I say. “Thanks. As for before, when we first showed up at the ranch. I know you had your reasons for hating me.”

“Us,” Miles adds.

“I get it,” I continue. “And you’ve more than made up for it today. One look at you and that Sea-Air fucker nearly pissed himself.”

“I’m pretty sure he actually did,” Miles says from the back.

“Yeah, well…” Chance looks straight ahead out the front windshield. “I owe you. For that night at the Dusty Rose. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have. I’d never disrespect a woman. Especially Carly. But we’re good.”

“I don’t like people taking advantage,” he replies.

I’m seeing Chance much differently now. He protected Carly, and today he protected my mom and me, our business. Where does this protective streak come from? From his—our—father? I doubt it. Chance has a story, but already I know he’ll only tell it in his own time. Maybe he’ll share it over the next year.

“I respect that you care so much about Carly,” I say, “but I’d never do that to any woman. And Carly… She’s something special for sure.”

My mind fills with visions of Carly in that hidden spring. Of her in my arms. Bare except for her panties. Her breasts filling my palms. Her tongue tangling with mine. Of the night in my bed. Of me taking her roughly against my bedroom wall.

I shift in my seat at the sudden tightness of my jeans.

“So what about the two of you, then?” Chance asks. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” Everything between Carly and me plays in my mind like a movie. How she looks to me with those trusting green eyes. How she closes them when I’m deep inside her, pushing her into another orgasm. How her fragility isn’t really fragility at all, but a fierce determination to heal, to grow, to empower herself.