“Oh my word. It’s....”
“Beautiful isn’t it?” Brandt’s voice was deep and rich, like warm honey over Shane’s still jangling nerves. Now that the air wasn’t rushing so fast, he could hear him better. Almost too much better, because it felt like they were soaking up each other’s awe and wonder. Sharing something warm and tender and perfect.
“Yeah.”
“Nothing like it.” Brandt whistled low, a sound that hit Shane somewhere soft. “Never gonna get tired of this view.”
“Me either.” Shane almost didn’t recognize his own voice, up this high, this far removed from everything that usually weighed him down.
“Hey, Superman. You want a turn steering?” Brandt didn’t wait for Shane to reply, grabbing his arms, guiding his hands.
“Whoa. Wow. I’m doing it. Look at us.” They swooped gently from side to side, and it was quite possibly the best feeling Shane had ever experienced.
“Look at you. Didn’t know your smile muscles even worked.”
“Screw you. I can smile.” Shane was feeling so good that he had to laugh.
“Well, then get ready. The landing crew will snap your pic as we land. It’s your rock-star moment.”
“Feels like it,” he said right before Brandt took over and set them down softly in a clearing, barely even jarring Shane’s knees. “Damn. That was...”
“It was something.” Brandt was looking right at him, like he could see straight through Shane’s layers, strip him bare. And Shane held his gaze, held the moment as long as he could.
Maybe... Should he say something? Offer to buy him a beer later? Something because no way could he let go—
“Brandt! Get over here.” Shelby yodeled from down the field, and Brandt’s head whipped around.
“Sorry.” And just like that, Shelby won, like she always did, like Shane had known she would. Any thought otherwise was foolish. This had been a damn fine birthday memory, but that was all it was ever going be. Nonetheless, he felt it in his still-shaky bones. He wasn’t ever forgetting what it had felt like for those few seconds to fly with Brandt Wilder.
Chapter Two
Eleven months later, outside Painter’s Ridge, Oregon
There was a baby on Brandt’s front step. And not a cute, sleeping in a wicker basket cherub that might signal that this was some sort of dream, even though it was the middle of the afternoon and he’d been up for hours. No, this was a loud, unhappy, red-faced infant in one of those little car-seat carriers with a pink blanket in its lap, and no adult keeper in sight.
Someone had rung his doorbell though. It had taken him a minute or two to get to the door because he’d been on a ladder, painting. And he never got company out here, so he’d figured it was a package and taken his time. But was it long enough for someone to slip away? Fuck. This only happened in old movies, right? No one in their right mind would ever leave a baby for him.
“Hello?” He swiveled his gaze across the scrubby property. Thank fuck. There was an older RV at the edge of the drive, and there racing back toward the house was—
A memory. Rusty laugh, tickling his ears. Short dark hair the color of polished walnut. Piercing blue eyes. It had been months, but Brandt hadn’t forgotten the way those full lips had found their way to a smile, that sound of pure awe when the parachute deployed. Brandt might be easy-come-easy-go about most things in life, but there was no forgetting a moment like that one. But here? Now? Why?
Frowning, Brandt took a step toward the guy. Sean? Scott? Shane. Shane. That was it. Old West name, calling to mind a cowboy with a guitar and a horse with a too-serious name. “I know you.”
“Yup.” Shane nodded. He was hauling some sort of pink backpack over one shoulder. “Good you remember.”
“What are you doing here? Show in town?” Brandt proceeded cautiously. He’d never had a stalker before, let alone one with a kid, but he also wasn’t exactly an easy to track down person either. The possibility of this being some sort of freaky coincidence seemed small.
“Nope.” Shane knelt in front of the fussy baby, gently rocking the carrier. “There. There. We’re gonna get you changed and fed. Hang on a sec.”
“Uh...” Brandt moved so he was between Shane and the front door. He was a friendly guy, but his arm and neck hair kept prickling, telling him to not be too fast to invite this blast from the past in. “Didn’t know you had a kid. Wife back in the RV?”
Back at the sky diving school, Shane hadn’t exactly given off wife-and-kid vibes, but it wouldn’t be the first time Brandt was wrong in that regard. But Shane simply snorted, a sound of utter contempt.
“No wife. Not my kid.” Shane’s speech was clipped as he continued to rock the carrier, quieting some of the indignant baby sounds.
“Babysitting emergency?”
“You could say that.” Shane’s mouth pursed as he looked up intently at Brandt. “If you remember me, you should remember Shelby, right? My sister?”
Sister. Sister. Brandt racked his brain, sorting through the last year of his life. Yeah, Shane hadn’t been alone that day. Oh fuck. The sister. Long streaked hair. Adventurous but bossy. Kind of mean to her brother, which hadn’t sat the best with Brandt, especially considering it was the guy’s birthday.
“Yeah, I remember your sister. But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here at my house now.”
“Four days ago Shelby turned up in Portland, baby in tow. Next morning, she was gone.”
“Hell. That sucks. You call the cops? I haven’t seen her since that jump, man. Not sure what you’re thinking...”
The baby gave another mad squawk. Baby. Shelby. Oh, hell no.
“Didn’t figure you’d seen her.” Shane continued to regard him coolly. “Had to track your ass down. Way more trouble than Shelby would ever go to.”
“But why...” Brandt trailed off as he considered the baby on his doorstep again. “You’re not trying to suggest—”
“Yep. She’s yours. Congrats. You’re a dad.”
Brandt made an inarticulate sound as he sagged against the wooden exterior of the house, world going gray around the edges. No fucking way.
* * *
Shane had expected Brandt to be skeptical, perhaps even downright hostile. But he also hadn’t known what else to do. It had been a hellacious three days, and he was running on almost no sleep, and now here was Brandt looking like he might be about to pass out. Stepping closer, Shane reached out a hand to catch him if he fell, but honestly he was so wrung out that Brandt would probably take them both out if he collapsed.