“Will that make you happy?”
“You make me happy, Ryan. You’re what I want.” She inhaled. “I called my parents. I had a heart-to-heart with my father.” Her lips lifted. “It was a good talk. He told me I shouldn’t let him, or anyone else, bully me into what I write about. He’s proud of me. And he said he wants to meet you.”
Ryan quirked a brow. “You told him about me.”
She nodded. “Yes. I told him about you. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere without you, so stop asking. Check out of the hotel, Ryan. Come home with me. Be home with me.”
The lights of the Hotzone Jeep shone in the distance, and Ryan pulled her close. “I love you, Sabrina,” he said. “And I have never felt so at home in my life. You’re home.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ryan and Sabrina walked into the Hotzone training office, with Caleb on their heels. Or so Ryan thought. The door shut behind them.
Sabrina bit her bottom lip and reached for the zipper on the flight suit. “I thought we might celebrate our newfound love.” The zipper slid downward, revealing nothing underneath but a sheer red bra and matching panties.
He was definitely home with Sabrina, wherever she was, wherever they were. Right now, home was the Hotzone training office. And, as it turned out, home was a damn sexy place to be.
EPILOGUE
A MONTH AFTER HER DARING JUMP from a plane, Sabrina hadn’t jumped again. Ryan was still trying to convince her, though. It was Saturday and, to Sabrina’s pleasant surprise, one of a number of the new charity days at the Hotzone. There were kids’ rides and barbecue, and even a horse or two.
Sabrina stood under the shade of a tree and watched Ricky and Mindy Patterson, ages six and eight, ride one of those horses, their mother, Cheryl, by their side. They were the dead soldier’s family. And with the help of the Aces, Cheryl had been convinced that her husband would want her to be safe and accept their help. They’d provided a trust fund for the kids, to which Marco had donated heavily, and so had many others. And the kids had surrogate fathers—three Aces determined to be role models.
There was also skydiving this Saturday, and Sabrina watched as a plane took off. Her father was inside, about to tandem with Ryan. If that wasn’t male bonding, she didn’t know what was.
Hours later, when her parents had retired to their hotel room, and the Hotzone was quieting down, Ryan pulled her aside. “I have a surprise. I finally found a home to buy. The Realtor said he could show it to you today.”
Sabrina’s heart fell to her feet. He was buying a house? Moving out? She’d thought…well, lots of things. Right after accepting the book deal, she’d had an offer to syndicate her column and taken it, hoping it would boost her book sales, ensure her future was filled with choices. Ryan had been supportive.
He kissed her, his eyes twinkling as he led her to the truck. “We need to swing by the condo. I left my checkbook there. If I want the place I’ve got lined up, I have to act fast.” He winked and put the truck in gear. “No more temporary for me.”
She tried to smile, but it was hard to work through the swell of turbulence growing inside her. No more temporary for him. Just for her. “Are you okay?” he asked about halfway to her place, when he couldn’t draw her into conversation about her father.
“I think some of the barbecue hit me wrong,” she lied.
“Do you want to postpone this?” he asked, concerned. “I can cancel.”
“No,” she said quickly. “I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted was to wait and wonder where this was leading. Which was pretty obvious. Him leaving.
“I’ll wait in the truck,” she said when they pulled into a space in front of her building.
“Come upstairs,” he said. “You can take some meds and lie down a few minutes. We aren’t meeting the Realtor for another hour.”
Reluctantly she conceded. They exited the elevator, and Sabrina pulled up short. In front of the door was another box.
She grabbed Ryan’s arm. “How can this be? Cheryl says she’s fine now. She’s happy. Surely someone else isn’t sending me packages.” It was too much on top of Ryan leaving.
“Let’s check it out,” he said, seeming remarkably calm for someone who prided himself on his “tough guy protectiveness.” He walked toward the box and tugged her with him.
“Hey,” she said. “Don’t you want to check it out first?”
He eyed the box and then picked it up. “Doesn’t look dangerous.”
She frowned. He was acting weird. She followed him to the dining-room table, his now infamous potentially-dangerous-package opening center. He pulled a pocket knife out and opened the box lid. “It’s for you.”