Sue Civil-Brown - Hurricane Hannah

Craig spoke. “I guess this will put paid to the poker game, huh?”

“Not on your life.”

Craig gave Hannah a pitying look, but didn’t say any more.

Buck went to get the big flat-bed hand truck he sometimes used to cart engines around, and together he and Craig loaded the supplies onto it. Hannah stood to one side, her hands in her pockets. Staying out of the way. Good. The last thing he needed was her getting any part of herself in his way. Especially those hips. Or those breasts he was just now noticing.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen a better package climb out of a flight suit.

Things were stirring in him, things he preferred to be in control of, not controlled by. Feelings. Needs. Wants. Sheee-it!

Tugging the heavy cart into the hangar and tucking it out of the way proved a welcome bit of exercise for him, taming the beast within. At least he thought of it as a beast; it was the kind of thing that got him into trouble, and seemed to have a mind of its own.

Once the supplies were out of the way, Hannah-the-pilot was right there asking about her plane.

“I got some ideas,” Buck said. He took the cigar from his mouth and tossed it in a trash can. “Things that could’ve happened that your mechanic wouldn’t have known could happen…especially if the maintenance logs were doctored.”

Hannah’s face darkened. “I had a feeling.”

“Before you bought that thing?”

“After,” she said sharply, taking his question as a criticism. Which he supposed it was, however oblique. “Afterward. Do you know how few people really do all the maintenance? I would have expected to find some oversights. Just a few. But there weren’t any.”

“Well, some of us do it all, but I agree, a lot of private planes don’t get all the attention they should. Either because the owner is a cheapskate or the mechanics cut corners.”

She nodded, for once agreeing with him. “Look at the major airlines.”

“Exactly. There’s a lot of reasons people run close to the edge. Anyway, I went through the schematics while you were out wasting your money, and found a few things to check out.”

“Are you going to check it out?”

“Now?” He arched a brow. “Not likely, Sticks. Craig needs to get home to look after his family before Hannah hits, and I need to go down the mountain to help out. My neighbors are more important than your fuel line.”

“Did I say they weren’t?” Fire sparked in her eyes. A hot-tempered redhead. So what else was new?

“No. But I’m giving the reason before you ask. Some of the older folks are going to need help boarding up. So if you’ll excuse me….”

“I’m going with you.”

His jaw dropped. He didn’t need this. “Now look….”

“I know how to use a hammer,” she argued stubbornly. “And I’m in decent shape. If people need help, I’m going to help.”

Buck looked at Craig, as if he might find help there, but the coward just shrugged.

Which was how Buck came to be driving down the mountain behind Craig, with Hannah Lamont perched firmly in the passenger seat of his pickup truck…resisting every urge to acknowledge her generosity.

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