Turbulent Intentions (4 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Never before had Stormy had to do the walk of shame, but as she grabbed her tiny handbag and slowly crept away from Green Eyes’ bedroom, she glanced back over her shoulder and took in a deep breath.

Dang, the man was good-looking—beyond good-looking, actually, especially now, with stubble on his strong jawline and his muscled arm thrown up above his head, the blankets resting very low on his beautiful hips. Just a few more inches . . .

No, she didn’t need to entertain that thought. This was a man she would never see again. Their only connection was the Anderson wedding—a wedding she’d crashed. Her one night of debauchery couldn’t cause any repercussions.

When she was on the upper deck of his boat, she peeked out to see whether anyone was around. How paranoid was that? It was about eight in the morning and the wedding reception had gone on long into the night. Everyone was most likely asleep and cruising for a champagne bruising.

Still, she was going to have to trek back up the trail they’d come down the night before, sneak out to the front gate—which had seemed to be a mile from the Anderson castle—and then pray that it was open. The last thing she wanted to do was trudge back to the house and beg someone to let her out.

They’d know exactly what she’d been doing. And even though they had no idea who she was and she would never see them again, her embarrassment would be incalculable. She knew it shouldn’t matter, but she cared about what people thought of her.

Stormy made it to the top of the trail and then peered out at the house, surprised to see activity in the backyard. Trucks were there hauling things away and the yard was almost back to normal, or what she assumed was normal, after that enormous party. Wow! These Anderson people moved really fast.

Putting her head down, she walked as quickly as her body-hugging little red dress would allow. She made no eye contact with anyone as she hurried along.

“Hello there!”

The boisterous voice startled her so much, she dropped her purse and jumped into the air. As she came back down, off balance, the heel on her shoe snapped, and after wobbling for a moment, she landed hard on her rear end.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” the man said—a freaking giant.

He approached quickly, moving far faster than she would think a man his age could. Bending down, he reached for her hand and easily tugged her back to her feet, where she teetered on the broken shoe.

She had no doubt that this was the famous Joseph Anderson, and she fully understood his reputation as a man to whom no one could ever say no.

“Don’t worry about it. I was in my own world,” she said, looking
way
up at his concerned expression. He had to be many,
many
inches over six feet. She only stood five feet six—in heels, and she was now short one of those. His silver hair only made him more distinguished in her opinion, and the twinkle in his surprisingly sharp blue eyes made her instantly inclined to trust him.

“Come on inside and we’ll get you fixed up,” he insisted as he pulled her toward the house. She stumbled behind him.

Uh-oh, maybe she could imagine telling him no after all. She wasn’t going into his house. Not a chance. She had to get away before Green Eyes awoke.

“Oh, no. I was just getting ready to leave,” she said, trying without success to tug against the beast of a man.

“I can’t send you off without making sure you’re all right, not after causing you to fall,” Joseph said.

“I promise you, I’m okay. I really just want to get going now,” she said as she continued to stumble along after him.

He stopped and looked at her, and Stormy’s cheeks flushed at what he must be thinking. He had to know she’d just walked away from someone’s bed. He must be wondering which guy it had been. Maybe he was worried about it being one of his kin. For all she knew, Green Eyes was related to Joseph. The man had sported a really nice boat that was docked on the Anderson pier.

“I’m Joseph Anderson, by the way,” he said, releasing his protective grip on her hand. It seemed as though he expected her to now introduce herself. Something she absolutely didn’t want to do.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson. As I said, I’m doing just fine, so I’ll be on my way,” she said as she retreated. The first thing she did was remove her shoes and grip them tightly in one hand.

“Where’s your car parked, Miss . . . ?” He trailed off, obviously waiting for her to give her name again.

“I rode here with a friend. I’ve called a cab, and it’s picking me up at the gate, so I’d best hurry,” she said. She hadn’t yet called the damned cab, but she was planning to as soon as she escaped from the intimidating Anderson patriarch.

“Then I’ll walk you to the gate,” Joseph said.

This walk of shame just kept on getting worse and worse. Now the man was going to catch her in a lie. Her humiliation was complete.

“Well, I haven’t actually
called
the cab yet. I was just getting ready to when I ran into you. So I had best get going and do that. By the time I get to the gate, the cab will be waiting for me,” she said with a sheepish laugh.

“Nonsense, young lady. If you were a guest at the party, I insist on having my driver give you a ride home,” Joseph said, once again tugging on her arm.

Stormy gasped. “I couldn’t have you do that.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

And that was why the man always got his way, she decided.

Within a minute, a black car pulled up; a man emerged from the driver’s side and opened the back door for her. Stormy found herself practically pushed into the car, and the only relief she felt was when the car pulled away from the Anderson mansion.

She didn’t look back to see Joseph reach down and pick up the locket that had dropped from her neck, or the smile he wore as he held it.

All fairy tales must come to an end, and when she got home and walked inside, she was cruelly thrust back into the real world—her carriage was now a pumpkin again, and her glass slipper left behind . . .

CHAPTER FIVE

Six Years Later

Sitting on the deck of his favorite café in the old neighborhood, Sherman Armstrong leaned back as another roar of thunder sounded high in the sky. He knew he was the very image of the old grandfather resting in his favorite chair while children ran by wondering about him.

He liked that mystery about himself.

He was a stout man, though his body was a bit older and weaker now, and he was forced to use a cane while walking. He had a square jaw, bit too big of a nose, and had sometimes been called Dumbo because of the size of his ears. Yet one thing that was fully working, and sharp as ever, were his bright blue eyes, which showed an inextinguishable youthfulness and a lot of hard-learned wisdom. Life had taught him things that no one and nothing could ever take away.

Though Sherman was an incredibly wealthy man, he didn’t have a large wardrobe. He sat on the café’s deck wearing his favorite blue cardigan. Tomorrow he’d most likely wear the brown one. Those were the only colors he ever selected for his warm, wool sweaters. Of course, he did have a variety of plaid shirts that he mixed with the cardigans. Today he was wearing a green-and-blue one under his sweater.

He’d lived in the house across the street, where apartments now stood, when he was a young buck right out of the military in the sixties. This neighborhood was worn down and sometimes unsafe, but it was where he’d made a life for himself and for his beautiful bride, Betty Sue.

It was the place where he’d raised his family, and it was the place he would continue to visit until he took his last breath. His family had told him it was time to move on, but it never would be—not in his opinion.

“Do you think this storm will hang around for a while?” Sherman asked Joseph. He and Joseph Anderson had been friends since they were in grade school . . . and Sherman valued that friendship more than all the money in his bank account.

“I sure hope so,” Joseph told him.

“Then maybe I will accept your offer for brunch after we finish our coffee. You have a hell of a view from your place,” Sherman said with a laugh.

“That is very true, my friend. Say the word, and my driver will get us out of here,” Joseph told him. Katherine wasn’t allowing him to drive in bad weather anymore, not with his need for speed, and the accident that had almost cost him his life.

Looking across the street, he caught a glimpse of Stormy Halifax as she struggled to push open the doors to the apartment complex she lived in—the wind fighting her each step of the way. He had begun to stand to assist her when she managed to push through to the sidewalk.

She didn’t pause, looking to be in a hurry as she splashed her nice clean work clothes while rushing through the puddles of water to get to her waiting taxi.

Sitting back down, Sherman smiled and lifted his hand. A frown marred his forehead when she didn’t look over. He watched her bend to open the car door, but suddenly she popped back up and then smiled and waved.

It was a tradition. She’d been living across the street for three years, and if she came down early enough before she had to rush off to work, she would dash over and chat with him for a few minutes. But even if she couldn’t do that, she always left him with a wave and a smile.

Sherman had grown very fond of the young woman. As she pulled away, a sad smile flitted across his lips. The young girl was trying to make it on her own, but sometimes a person was stronger not weaker for asking for a helping hand in times of need. She was a stubborn one, though, and wouldn’t allow him to help her.

Well, he thought, as her cab drove down the street on her way to a job that wouldn’t take her anywhere, he
was
going to help her—one way or another. His spreading smile took years away from his wrinkled face. It was a good thing Joseph was with him to brainstorm.

“She’s such a fine young woman. I’ve been trying to help her for quite some time, but she’s determined to do everything on her own. That girl isn’t someone who even cares to utter the word defeat,” Sherman told Joseph.

“She looks familiar,” Joseph said as he stared after her, searching his memory. “What’s her story?”

“Her parents were missionaries for a lot of years and then working-class folk, didn’t have a whole lot. Her father died when she was twenty, and it was real hard on her. Her mom was sick so she dropped out of school to take care of her, and then her mother passed last year. She hasn’t managed to get back on her feet quite yet. But she will. She was taught young not to complain in life, and she lives by that motto,” Sherman said.

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help once in a while,” Joseph said as the two of them watched the cab disappear. “But I’ve always admired a woman with a strong backbone. That’s the kind of girl who won’t be led easily astray.”

“Yes, I agree with you there,” Sherman said. “I was sort of hoping to set her up with one of my nephews, but I can’t seem to get them in the same room with her. She’s always so busy . . .”

“Well, my dear friend, you should have come to me sooner,” Joseph boomed with a laugh, making Sherman, who was used to his boisterous friend, jump.

“Why is that, Joseph?”

“Because if there’s one thing I know about, it’s matchmaking,” Joseph said as he sat back. He pulled out two deliciously scented cigars. “We’ll need these. This will take a while.”

“I sure won’t turn one down,” Sherman said, accepting the fragrant tobacco.

The two men lit up and then leaned back as the thunder moved further north but still gave them a good show to behold.

“Tell me more about this girl,” Joseph said.

“Stormy is kind. I visit my old friend Penny in those apartments quite often, and if Stormy sees that I’m carrying anything, she’ll insist on helping me. And on days like this, when the weather takes a turn for the worse, I guarantee you, she’ll swing by after work to make sure everything is okay with Penny, who isn’t remembering things so easily these days. Stormy’s become like a granddaughter to me and a few other people in that old apartment building, and I just adore her beautiful heart and her sweet words. I miss her when a few days pass that I don’t get to chat,” Sherman said.

“It sounds like she’s made of the good stuff,” Joseph said, disappointed he didn’t have any sons left to set her up with. Of course, he loved Sherman’s nephews like his own, so he’d be happy to see this Stormy with one of Sherman’s boys.

“Yep, she is. I hate seeing her living all alone. She should be settled down, having a nice young lad to help carry some of her burden. The forty years I spent with my beautiful wife before the Lord decided she needed to be elsewhere were the best years of my life,” Sherman said.

“I can’t imagine what would happen to me if I lost my Katherine,” Joseph said.

“I still miss Betty every single moment of each day. Now, I find joy with other people, but it’s never going to be the same. She was my soul mate and there’s no replacement for her. Everyone should have that at least once in their lifetime.”

“I agree, Sherman. I fully agree,” Joseph told his friend.

The storm began to clear and the two men heard a jet fly over them. Sherman looked up at the sky with a bit of envy.

“You still miss it, don’t you?” Joseph asked, completely understanding.

“Oh, I miss it each morning I wake up,” Sherman assured his friend.

What felt like many years before, Sherman had been a pilot for the military, and then privately, crop dusting fields and eventually flying jetliners. He’d soared high above the clouds, leaving all his cares on the ground as he sat behind the controls of a powerful jet engine.

There were days he’d give just about anything to be up there again, trying to beat the morning sun as he rushed down a runway at one hundred plus miles per hour.

Pulling a keychain out of his pocket, he handed the faded blue ring to his friend. The scratched letters of Pan American were still printed on the face.

“I remember this,” Joseph said with a laugh.

“I spent a lot of years with them. It’s the keepsake I refuse to let go of,” Sherman said.

“We all need to have keepsakes from the good old days. But Sherman, when your nephews are married and bringing more family home to you, then you won’t look so much at the past anymore. I love my present and I look forward to the future,” Joseph assured him.

“I think you are absolutely right, Joseph,” Sherman said. He put the keychain away and smiled. And then he grabbed a pen and paper and smiled even more broadly.

Let the matchmaking begin.