Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2) (22 page)

Grace walked up beside her, looking at the eagle, then at Rose. "Why did you name
her Gracie? It confuses the hell out of everyone."

Rose grinned at the feisty bird. She knew if she came anywhere near her, Gracie would
defend her rat dinner. "Because she's spirited and noisy and impatient."

"Damn straight. I'm taking off for the day."

Rose stacked spare equipment onto her four-wheeler. "Isn't tonight the big date with
Mr. No Eye Contact?" She didn't look to her friend and colleague but knew the smirk
she would have on her face.

"Oh, yes. Cute. As. Can. Be. See you bright and early." She turned and started walking
back to the main building before yelling out over her shoulder, "Oh, yeah, and there's
a donor in the lobby. Wants to donate the money for Gracie's aviary and build it himself."

"What the hell?" she said aloud, jumping to her feet. "How long has he been waiting?"
She was a mess. Oh, well. She could use that as a pitch.

Quickly, she rushed to ride the loaded four-wheeler to a spot and park it for the
night. Walking to the main building, she entered through the back. Quickly washing
her hands, she dried them on her jeans as she entered the lobby area.

She dropped against the jamb of the doorway as soon as she spotted him. "What are
you doing here?"

Chapter 17

"I saw your broadcast."

Andy watched as Rose rubbed clean hands over her dirty face. "What are you really
here for?"

"Okay. I deserve that." He got up from a row of rustic chairs and walked toward her.
"I guess it's my turn to apologize. You were right. Become Dr. Owen Witherspoon. I
have no right to judge any decision you make. It's none of my business."

"It's Oliver and I will never understand why women feel the need to change their names."

"Right." He looked around at what she had helped build. "It's nice here. I've really,
honestly just come to build an enclosure for a bird... eagle. Gracie, you called it?
Isn't that the name of your assistant?"

"Grace." Rose sighed. "Put the animal first," she mumbled. "My assistant's name is
Grace. The bald eagle is Gracie."

"Okay," he said slowly. "But that's just going to confuse the hell out of everyone."

Her eyes closed, and slowly shaking her head, she stood to the side of the doorway,
motioning for him to pass. "Come on. I'll show you the spot."

They walked in silence through a large hall that housed smaller animals along the
perimeter. He spotted a few opossums and at least one raccoon. Each enclosure led
to a habitat area on the outside of the building. He thought the layout was genius.
Efficient.

Electricity radiated overtly between the two of them, but he had no idea if it was
positive or negative. So, he worked to ignore it.

"I've decided not to marry Oliver."

He paused only for a second before responding. "I'm... sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not, but you were right. Love's not everything, but I suppose you should
have it before you marry someone."

"Stated as artfully as Hallmark." Fighting the urge to fist bump the air, he kept
pace with her and, instead, chided, "Or, how about this one? Another fiancé bites
the dust."

The muscles in her jaws flexed and she picked up her pace, walking with quick Rose-like
steps.

The back was a myriad of organized sheds lining an open space clearly meant for presentations
and workshops. Very efficient, he thought. It wasn't until they walked around the
side of the building that he saw the bird.

Damn, it was big. Amazing. Giant talons on the ends of thick legs, their brown color
matching its beak. Predatory eyes stared him down, head on. He felt instant respect,
followed by sympathy at the sight of the size of the small enclosure. Yes, he thought.
Rose or no Rose, he had a great desire to give this animal what freedom he could.

Waving her arms toward a line of trees some hundred yards away, Rose explained her
ideas.

* * *

"How long have you been here?" Delores walked in Andy's office as he sat at his desk.
Her keys were still in her hand. He watched suspiciously as she made her way to the
coffeemaker. She let the keys slip into her purse, then placed her palm on the glass
carafe. "If you keep going like this, you'll start making mistakes."

He kept working, but responded, "Thank you, but it's only temporary."

Delores brewed a fresh pot as he went through plans, outlines and contracts. He made
neat piles of work for her to do for when he headed out to meet customers and check
on crews. He planned on still having enough time to put in some hours at the action
center enclosure.

They both looked up when they heard the outside door.

He hadn't realized his face was tight until he felt it relax. "Ma."

Brie carried a small basket covered with a red and white checked towel. The size of
the lumps underneath it told him
muffins.
He got up to greet her, then stopped at the frown on her face.

Delores walked to stand with her shoulder to shoulder. His assistant crossed her arms
before commenting, "I know, Brianna. I keep telling him. He looks just awful, doesn't
he? Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

He hated when his aunt did that thing where he felt like she was looking right through
him. Defensively, he spoke first, "I've just got a project. It'll be done within a
month. I want to get it off my plate." He walked over, trying for casual and lifted
the corner of the towel.

Brie smacked his hand and pulled the basket away. "I'm going to need a little more
than that."

Sighing, he explained, "It's an enclosure for a diseased, well formerly diseased,
eagle. She's incredible. Rose has her taking food from her hand, but she won't let
anyone else near her. Scratch your eyes out if you give her the chance."

Brie's brows came together, then lifted as the muscles in her face softened.

"The senior biologists want to keep her as an education bird. Something about being
in captivity while she healed from the disease and missing the period when she would
learn to recognize other eagles or know that she is one of them."

Fisting a set of knuckles beneath her chin, Brie smiled.

"I think it's bullshit—"

"Language," Brie reminded him.

"Sorry."

"Go on."

"They should let her go." He carried on as he went back and closed some files on the
corner of his desk. "Let her take the risk and see if she can do what she was meant
to do."

"Hmm," Brie mumbled. "Déjà vu."

"The girl needs a place to fly. They've got her cooped up in a ridiculous enclosure.
It's awful." He put his keys in his pocket and looked up, stopping at the sight of
Brie and Delores. "What?" he asked at their red-eyed expressions.

Brie smiled. "You have time for a cup of coffee and a muffin before you go to the
center. You could call Duncan and have him go with you. His plane landed earlier today."

He hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Fourth of July. Right."

"You will make it to the Fourth," Brie said as a statement.

Yes, she was looking right through him. "Right. Right, of course. I might have to
make the tail end, but I'll be there." He picked up a muffin.

* * *

Since Rose rarely carried a purse, she walked into the bar with her money in one back
pocket, her ID in the other, her smart phone in a front pocket, and the Swiss Army
knife she held as dear to her as any woman might a tube of lipstick in the other.
She saw Duncan right away. His dark brown hair that waved to just over his shoulders
was easy to spot, even from the back. She nodded to the bartender before kissing him
on the cheek, then slid in the booth opposite him.

Pinned to the dark paneled wall were yellowing newspaper articles from years past,
featuring Northridge's favorite pub and burger joint, Mikey's. She learned never to
be surprised at how the place always felt the same. After months since her last visit,
she still recognized old friends and the smell of a great grill.

She had forgotten, however, how much Duncan and Andy looked alike and seemed to be
more so as they grew older. They were very different, though. Predictably, Duncan
had on black Armani jeans and a charcoal-gray, button-down shirt with sleeves rolled
up to three-quarter length. "Hello, Duncan. Welcome back. Here for the Fourth?"

He lifted his chin once in agreement. "And to look at some land. I've decided it's
probably time for me to own some."

She jutted her head back. "You don't own a place? No condo anywhere? Apartment? What
about Sophia whoever?"

He lifted a corner of his mouth. "That's history. And no, no
place
."

She looked into the deep, dark brown of his eyes. No condolences were needed about
the break up, she could see that. "History?"

"Yes. Her paintings are finished. I've moved out and on. Do you care for something
to drink while we finish the small talk?"

Sighing at his predictable abruptness, she smiled and nodded. He motioned to the waitress
waiting at the end of the bar then leaned a hand toward Rose as she approached.

"Bud. Bottle, please."

"Bud Light?"

Rose shook her head. "Budweiser. Bottle. No glass. Thanks."

She looked down at the points of black flames peeking out from beneath Duncan's left
sleeve. She tapped the tattoo, questioning.

He shrugged.

"What will your mother say?"

"Brie's not my mother."

"Bullshit." She smiled wide now.

"Well, now that we seem to be past the chitchat portion of our visit, I'll answer
by saying that I believe I am past the age where I ask my
mother
for approval before giving myself a tattoo."

She felt her eyes grow large, then they must have changed to a look of
eew
because that was exactly what she was thinking. "You mean you did that to yourself?"

"I wouldn't trust anyone else with drawing on my body. It is permanent, you know?"
he said sarcastically.

She winced. "So, what did you want to see me about?"

"Thank you for coming on such short notice. Brie mentioned that recently you and Andy
have been spending time together."

Her wince turned to a purposefully flat stare. "She's wrong."

He lifted a brow. "Really?"

If this was why he'd asked her out here... "He's working for me... for the center.
Donating some time and material, nothing more."

Duncan leaned back and rested an arm on the back of the booth. "Is that why your face
has turned such an interesting shade?"

She began to get up, but he grabbed her arm. "I had no idea you still had such a temper.
I apologize. Please. Sit down. I want to share something with you. Please."

She relaxed slightly as her beer arrived. Bud Light. Shit. She watched as he reached
inside his discarded black leather jacket and pulled out a small roll of yellowed
papers. He turned them to face her. Then, unfolded and pushed them across the table.

A hurricane of emotions blew through her as she looked down at the pile. There was
no need to touch them. She knew what they were. "How did you get these?" She didn't
look up to him.

"I found them eight years ago on the floor of Andy's old Mustang. Beautiful machine."
Duncan took her hand gingerly now. "I picked him up from the end of this very bar.
He'd been spilling tears into shots of whiskey. I drove him to the city that night
and found these on the floor on my way back."

She sat speechless, thoughts racing. Images. Memories. She tried to piece it together.
He was here? Drinking? Duncan drove him? The papers. The timeline that night. She
shut her eyes as they began to burn. That night.

When she opened them, he was there. Andy stood in the same doorway she had entered.
Years of stuffing these feelings, any feelings, under her metaphorical rug felt like
a hornet's nest that had just been kicked. This was too much to take. To understand.
She was over him, over this.