Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing Perfect\Almost Perfect\Sister of the Bride\Finding Perfect (15 page)

“You're kidding? From one of those? We all should have one in our yard.”

“Don't get too excited, that's under extremely optimal conditions. Reality is a little less easy to calculate. The wind doesn't always blow, and the turbines are fairly loud.”

He hit a switch and one of the TV screens came on. The picture scanned across a seemingly isolated patch of desert scrub. The background noise increased until it was uncomfortably loud.

“That's close to what they're like at fifty feet.”

Charity wanted to cover her ears. “Okay, maybe not in the front yard.”

He hit another button and the picture shifted to a large display of wind turbines.

“There are other considerations,” he said. “Some areas are windier than others. We use something called Wind Power Density to determine the best placement for the turbines. There are also problems with delivery. The towers are usually between two and three hundred feet tall. The blades are between sixty-five and a hundred and thirty feet long.”

She tried to picture that, but couldn't. Ethan must have been used to those unfamiliar with his industry. He immediately hit a button and the TV screen changed to a drawing of a blade next to a six foot man.

“The blade wins,” she murmured.

“It's going about a hundred and sixty miles an hour. It always wins. So we want a relatively isolated location that we can deliver to and provide service to. Not too close to the community but not too far away. Lots of wind, but not so much wildlife.”

“Right,” she said. “Birds get clipped by the blades and die.”

“We actually have a bigger problem with bats.”

She blinked. “Bats, as in bats? Don't they have sonar that allows them to see anything that's moving in the sky?”

“Yes, but the spinning blades create a change in pressure.” He paused. “You don't want to know. Let's just say turbines can have a negative impact on bat migration. To change that, we recommend owners shut down the turbines during slow wind nights.”

“A computer does that, right?”

“It can. The biggest concerns are during late summer and early fall, when bats migrate.”

She had the weird feeling there was something crawling in her hair. “Um, bats migrate?”

He nodded.

“I could have gone my whole life without knowing that.”

“They don't want to hang with you any more than you want to hang with them.”

“Uh-huh. That sounds nice, but I don't actually believe that. I think bats get a good laugh out of making girls scream.”

“Maybe. I hadn't thought about it, but you could be right.”

He showed her part of a DVD and a few more pictures, then handed her a map of the area.

“Here's the closest wind farm,” he said, pointing to the map. “You can take a drive out there if you want to see them in person. The area is fenced off, but you can drive up close enough to get an idea of the size and the noise.” He grinned. “Go during the day and you'll avoid the bats.”

“Note to self,” she said, taking the paper. “Thanks. I appreciate all the info.”

They started back toward the main building.

“How are you liking small-town life?” he asked.

“It's great. I'm still learning everyone's name.”

“That will take a while. I've seen you and Josh Golden together a few times.”

His voice was casual, but she had an idea that the statement was anything but.

“We're not together,” she said quickly. “He showed me a house that's coming on the market and we're on a committee. Nothing more.”

Ethan laughed. “Women aren't usually so quick to separate themselves from any association with him.”

She winced. “I don't mean to say I don't like him.” She paused. “Just not, you know, in
that
way.”

Almost the truth, she reminded herself. Wanting to have sex with someone was not the same as liking the person. Erratic hormones had a will of their own,
while her mind was more concerned with the inner qualities of a man.

“Apparently,” Ethan said, his dark eyes twinkling with humor.

She sighed. “The local celebrity thing is a challenge. I don't know what to say.”

“You're doing fine. Truthfully, Josh is a whole lot more interesting than the guy who carves jewelry out of cattle dung.”

“At least he probably smells better.”

Ethan glanced at her. “He's not a bad guy.”

“I thought you two didn't get along,” she said, then clamped her fingers over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping her hand. “People talk and sometimes I listen.”

“I understand. Don't worry about it.” He kept walking. “Whatever happened between Josh and me was a long time ago. Have you ever been to a race?”

She shook her head.

“There's always a crowd. The riders are in packs, so close together that the slightest mistake can take nearly anyone down. The speeds are incredible. On the downhill part of a course, fifty or sixty miles an hour isn't impossible. What happened to me wasn't Josh's fault. I actually hit him, but I'm the one who went down.”

“Then why aren't you two speaking?”

Ethan flashed her a grin. “You'll have to ask Josh that.”

They reached her car.

“I appreciate the time,” she told him. “Thanks for the tour and the lesson on bats.”

“Anytime.”

He waved and walked back to the office.

His stride was long and easy, with only the faintest hint of a limp. He was single, good-looking and charming. And she felt absolutely nothing when she was around him. Somebody somewhere sure had a sense of humor.

* * *

J
OSH LOOKED UP AS
both Marsha and Pia walked into his office. Eddie waved at him from her desk, then turned her back on him, as if silently claiming this wasn't her business. A sentiment that didn't leave Josh with an especially good feeling.

“Have you heard?” Pia asked, plopping into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. “A big bike race got canceled and they're shopping for a new location. I just got a call. It's fantastic.”

“Yes. A company pulling out of an event because they're losing money
is
a reason to celebrate,” Marsha said dryly. “Maybe later we'll find out there are layoffs and we can really party.”

Pia rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Of course I don't want anyone to lose their job. But this doesn't have to be a bad thing for the charity. Not if someone else picks up the slack, which we're going to do.” She handed Josh a sheet of paper. “I know what
you're thinking. We're doing Race for the Cure, but that's a race for runners. And only one day. This is so much more. Major event on the tour, dozens of sexy guys on bikes. Heads in beds. They're desperate—which is where we come in.”

“We who?” he asked, already having a good idea of where this conversation was going.

“The town,” Pia told him triumphantly. “I've done some checking on the costs and expectations and I know we can pull this off. We'll move the entire bike race to Fool's Gold. It's a quiet weekend for us, so there are plenty of hotel rooms. I've already put a tentative hold on every empty room between here and Sacramento. Heads in beds. You know how we love that.”

Marsha studied him. He read the concern in her gaze and knew she was worried about him.

“The town can't cover all the costs,” he began.

“I know, but I'm already talking to a few companies,” Pia told him, slapping a folder on his desk. “If they'll cough up the prize money, we're good to go. The rest of the work can be done by volunteers. You know how this town loves a good project. Especially when that project supports you.”

Here it comes, he thought grimly. “How does it support me?”

“It's bike racing, Josh,” Pia told him. “Your thing. I was thinking we'd have a little parade and you can be the grand marshal. Then you can give the prizes at the finish. You know, the old guard, the new guard.”

Right. Because the highlight of his day would be handing out prize money to guys he used to race with. Guys who could still compete.

“Or you could even race,” she added with a wink. “Announce your comeback. It would mean a huge boost in publicity. The charity is for sick kids, Josh.”

“It always is.”

Marsha leaned toward Pia. “I think you've hit him with the highlights. Why don't you give him a couple of days to think about all of this?”

“Okay, but we don't have long. I would hate to see some other town snap up this opportunity.”

“That would be bad,” Josh said as Pia stood and left. He turned his attention to Marsha. “What do you think?”

“Pia's a smart girl. This would be good for the town. Put us on the map.”

“I thought we already were.”

“It would bring a lot of attention to Fool's Gold. Positive attention. Something other than a chapter in a thesis where the reality of who we are is reduced to statistics.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You want the race.”

Marsha studied him. “I want you to be comfortable with the decision we make. It's a great opportunity, but there will be others.”

When he'd been a kid and his mother had dumped him in town and taken off, he'd been more alone and scared than any ten-year-old should be. Denise Hendrix
had taken him in. Ethan had become his best friend. He'd been one of seven kids in a loud, happy, loving family. But there had been times when he'd never felt as if he truly fit in.

Whenever life at the Hendrix house had overwhelmed him, Marsha seemed to know. She would drop by during the late afternoon and take him out for dinner. In the quiet of a local restaurant, he felt comfortable talking about whatever was bothering him. She listened more than offered advice and most of the time, that was enough.

They'd never talked about what had happened during that last race. When he'd returned to Fool's Gold, she'd told him that she was feeling old and frail and had insisted he spend the first week in her guest-room. He hadn't been fooled. There was nothing frail about Marsha. She hadn't wanted him to be alone and he'd been willing to pretend it was about her.

They'd never talked about Frank's death or his fear, but he suspected she'd figured it all out. A theory she confirmed when she said, “You have a choice. Face the demons or keep running from them.”

“It's not that easy.”

“Why not? Ethan was hurt and you moved on.”

“I felt guilty.” But she was right. He'd moved on. But that had been different. Ethan's accident had been one of those things. Frank's death seemed more like his fault. “There's no way to face them without everyone knowing.”

“What do you think will happen if everyone finds out the truth about you?”

A thousand things he didn't want to consider.

“You should trust us more,” she said, rising. “Trust those of us who love you. You're more than your fame, Josh. You always have been.”

Maybe, but was he enough without it?

“Running hasn't worked so far,” she said as she walked to the door. “Maybe it's time for a new plan.”

* * *

R
OBERT INVITED
C
HARITY
over to his place for dinner. He promised a grilled steak and the best salads the corner deli had to offer. Charity hoped that if they could hang out together, talking without any pressure or her being able to see Josh across the restaurant, that she would become more interested in Robert.

His house was within walking distance of the hotel, hardly a surprise, in a quiet residential neighborhood on a golf course. The homes were mostly two stories tall with big windows and well-groomed front yards. Robert's was no exception, although it looked a little newer and better kept than the others on the block.

“Hi,” she said when Robert opened the front door. “I brought wine.”

“Something I really like in a woman,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her in, then lightly kissing her cheek. “You look great.”

“Thanks.”

She'd worn a short denim skirt with high-heeled
sandals and a pale peach silky wrap shirt. Another new purchase designed to show the world, and herself, that she wasn't always conservative. Buying the clothes had started an interesting ripple effect. When she'd started paying attention to what she wore, she'd found herself thinking about things like highlights and pedicures. She had an appointment for the former next week and would find out if the salon had a nail person while she was there.

She'd visited a large discount store and bought a bunch of new makeup to try, including a honey-jasmine body scrub she'd been using in the shower. It was fun being a girl, she thought, wondering how she could have allowed herself to forget.

“Shall I give you the tour?” he asked.

“I would like that.”

The main floor had high ceilings. The living room flowed into a formal dining room. Both had beautiful furniture that looked expensive. The big TV and high-tech sound system could have been at home in a movie theater. There was a wet bar tucked into an alcove by the hallway, then the eat-in kitchen was in back. The patio beyond held a lush potted garden and a man-sized grill with lots of knobs and storage.

“I can't help it,” Robert said. “Fire good.”

“Those caveman roots are hard to cut.” She handed over the bottle of wine.

He opened it and poured them each a glass. Once they'd toasted and sipped, they went out onto the patio.

“Impressive garden,” she said. “I don't know much about growing plants.”

“My mom liked to dig in the dirt,” he told her. “I started helping out when I was a kid. I can make nearly anything grow, which is both a blessing and a curse.” He pointed to a dozen or so small pots suspended on the fence. Each overflowed with some kind of a plant. “Herbs.”