her.
Fear came alive in her face, making him pause momentarily. Her expression slammed memories back of seeing his sister’s face like that when their dad came crashing home in one of his drunken rages. Vince halted, unable to unleash the verbal lashing his tongue longed to give a hot moment ago.
As if sensing his sudden calm, his team inched away, except for Joel and Aaron, who no doubt hung out either from curiosity or at the risk of seeing if they’d have to step in and referee.
Vince unclenched his fists. “Why are you here?”
“I—I came to say I’m sorry.”
“You already did. About seven hundred times. Doesn’t change anything.”
“What can I say to that?” She raised her arms loosely and let them fall hard at her side. “I just hoped it would make a difference this time.”
Pure frustration. Not put on.
Honest. Tough. Vulnerable.
How she was all three at the same time, he had no idea. He just knew she was.
He notched his chin up. “What do you want from me?” He’d said it so calmly, the surprise in her eyes mirrored how he felt inside.
Thick black lashes on gorgeous gray eyes fluttered. “I—I don’t—I’m not sure.” Backing toward the door, she eyed the clock behind him. “I’m sorry that I came. I didn’t mean to make matters worse.” She turned and fled as fast as her high heels would take her.
She looked back only once. Regret sliced through him. Her trembling hands told him he’d scared and humiliated her.
Same way his old man used to do to him and his siblings. And he got the idea Miss Distraction was like his sister in the way of tears. Rarely did Victoria Reardon cry.
Vic. How he missed her.
Double remorse slugged his gut.
Once for his sister, Victoria.
Once for Valentina Russo.
A protectiveness normally reserved for his sister rose up in Vince for Miss Distraction. He started after her.
Petrowski’s strong arm swung out, blocking him. “No. She’s upset. Let me go.”
Knowing Aaron operated more diplomatically, and not wanting to scare Miss Distraction further, Vince planted his eager feet to the floor and nodded.
On Aaron’s way to the door, he paused to peer at Vince. “You didn’t hear Stallings explain her reason for the accident, did you?”
“No.” In fact, he hadn’t wanted to hear. So he’d poked his iPod nubs in his ears and jammed up the volume on his rip-your-ears-off hard rock.
But the terse look in Petrowski’s eyes told him he needed to know.
Vince shifted. “What?”
“Her aunt toppled down stairs on a medical scooter. Miss Russo received word of the accident seconds before entering that intersection.”
Compassion trickled past the hard earth of Vince’s anger. “She all right? The old lady, I mean?”
“Not sure yet. Stallings said she’s in surgery again today. So the young woman’s understandably under intense pressure right now. Last I heard the aunt was swinging between grave and critical condition.”
Petrowski didn’t need to say the rest. That Vince needed to go easy on her.
Sorrow settled in. “Aaron, I didn’t know, didn’t try to. I’ll make it right.”
Halfway out the door, Petrowski nodded. “I know you will. Mad as you are, your true colors can always be counted on to come through.”
That statement stunned Vince. Mostly because he didn’t see himself that way and didn’t feel he deserved the grace and understanding riding Petrowski’s words as he headed to the lot.
In fact, he’d been a complete jerk to Miss Distraction. And for the first time since the wreck, he felt a wiggle of wrong about it.
Vince moved to watch Petrowski leaving out the massive wall of windows that offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the sky he loved to languish in.
An inviting brilliant blue today, it canopied the vast acreage of Refuge Drop Zone’s grounds. It housed miles of public and private areas in which they did things as a team for hours each day. Things ranging from rigorous exercise to practicing nighttime military HALO jumps and daytime training to all-out fun with leisure landings.
Adjacent to that closed-off area resided the acreage where they conducted classes meant to train novice skydiving patrons proper body mechanics before they learned to solo or tandem skydive.
The space between Miss Distraction and Petrowski closed rapidly as Aaron sprinted to catch the woman, still rushing across the large lot to her car. She was liable to break her ankle wearing those spiked heels in the gravel part beyond the enormous asphalt section.
It had cost Joel a huge chunk of his savings putting that asphalt in when he’d bought the place after their team stationed in Refuge. Now the team was raising and saving money to help Joel pave the rest.
Why had Miss Distraction parked so far from the building? For exercise maybe? He could tell she did that regularly, too, because a woman didn’t get those shapely legs and toned arms solely by being a desk jockey. Not that he’d noticed. Really.
Miss Distraction indeed.
His nickname for her held sudden duplicity. Sure his sarcastic mind had made it up initially because her distraction was the cause of his disaster. But, watching her move in ways he couldn’t help but appreciate as a man…Miss Distraction took on a whole new meaning.
Vince grew aware of the increasing weight of his teammates’ gazes. Choosing to ignore them rather than contend verbally or mentally with what their curious and knowing expressions insinuated, he went to the back room and grabbed his helmet and the keys to his old bike.
“Where you going, dude?” Chance stepped inside the doorway.
“To check on the lady’s aunt. I feel bad now for what I said.”
“Rain’s in the forecast. I’d feel better if you didn’t ride your old bike. Le’me drive you.”
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Nah. Be glad to. Haven’t had lunch, anyway. We’ll grab some grub after we go see about the young lady.”
“Correction. Her aunt.”
Chance jangled his car keys and grinned. “Right.”
Vince cradled his helmet in the crook of his elbow and hawkeyed Chance. “Don’t make more out of this than it is, Garrison.”
Chance’s dimples deepened but he pressed the palms of his hands gently in the air. “’Course not.”
“I mean it.”
Chance laughed as they stepped into the sunshine. He eyed Vince and coughed out a couple more laughs.
Irritation dogged Vince. “Mind telling me what’s so funny?”
“She’s got your mind all twisted up.”
“Does not.”
Chance paused, snorting. He dipped his head toward Vince’s arm. “Then why do you still have the helmet? My driving’s not that bad.”
Vince pressed his lips together to form a worthy excuse or a solvent retort, but nothing came to mind.
Instead, he felt his own sudden grin give way to an out-loud laugh. His earlobes heated.
Chance stopped. “Wow. Dude. This is a first.”
Vince scowled. “What?”
Chance