Mia Ross - Circle of Family

Fortunately, logic returned and set her back on her usual even keel. Intriguing as this man might be, she wasn’t one to blindly follow her heart anymore. Her ex-husband had cured her of her romantic streak a long time ago.

* * *

It wasn’t exactly the reception he’d expected.

According to Matt, his tiny North Carolina hometown was full of gossips and busybodies but was the sort of place that greeted everyone with open arms. Even during the years he’d avoided his sad memories of home, Matt had told him how friendly and open his family was.

So Ridge felt a little awkward standing there while this very pretty woman studied him like a specimen on a tray. The breeze ruffled her honey-gold hair, and her icy-blue eyes stared him down like a gunfighter’s. Then he realized he was still wearing his sunglasses.

He dropped them to hang from their braided cord and smiled as he offered his hand. “Ridge Collins.”

She took his hand without hesitation, but he got the feeling her smile was a bit forced. “Marianne Weston. Welcome to Harland.”

It was the kind of tone people reserved for annoying salesmen, but Ridge did his best to ignore it. He was later than he’d promised, after all, and he hadn’t called. In his experience, women hated it when he made excuses.

“Sorry I’m late. The weather got kinda nasty west of here.”

“You put on quite a show coming in that way,” she said as a screen door slammed.

Ridge glanced at the house to find two kids headed their way. The boy was in a gray suit, complete with navy tie. Wearing a pouf of a pink dress, the little girl made him think of a sugarplum fairy. Freshly scrubbed and polished, they looked ready for a wedding. Too bad he didn’t, he chided himself. Then Marianne might have been a little happier to see him.

“A big part of my business is aerial tours,” he explained. “Folks love to see what the old girl can do.”

“Do they?”

Her brittle tone sent up a red flag, and he backpedaled like a center fielder at Yankee Stadium. “Some of ’em.”

She nailed him with a glare. “You scared me half to death, skimming over my house like that.”

“I apologize. I left a big buffer, but it must’ve looked closer from the ground.”

Based on her peeved look, he’d expected more of a lashing. Something apparently changed her mind, though, and her disapproval melted into a beautiful smile. The difference was striking, and he wished he knew which button he’d just pushed. He wouldn’t mind seeing that smile again.

“No harm done, I guess. I’m just glad you got here safely.” She motioned toward the boy standing a respectful couple of feet away. “This is my son, Kyle, and this—” she held an arm out to the adorable princess “—is Emily. Kids, this is Mr. Collins.”

“Ridge is fine.” Reaching out, he shook Kyle’s hand before hunkering down in front of Emily to avoid towering over her. Offering his hand, he grinned. “Your Uncle Matt’s told me a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you guys.”

Emily was a miniature version of her mother, and she assessed him with a curious look as she shook his hand. “Ridge is kind of a funny name.”

Marianne clicked her tongue, but Ridge chuckled. “Actually, it’s worse than that. My mom named me for Breckenridge, Colorado, the town we were living in when I was born.” He saw Kyle edging closer, and he glanced up at him. “Good thing we weren’t living in Albuquerque, huh?” he added with a wink.

The kid responded with a gap-toothed grin, then looked pointedly at the plane. “How come your plane has Betsy written on it?”

“She’s named for my grandmother.”

“Why?”

“Well, it was kind of a wreck when Grandpa brought it home. He named it after her so she wouldn’t kill him.”

“What’s this?” Emily asked, pointing at the front of his jacket.

“A wolf.” He shifted to show her the full-size version on the back. “My great-grandfather flew in the Wolf Pack in World War Two.”

“Is this his plane?” Kyle asked, eyes wide with amazement.

“No, but it’s the same kind he trained in.”

Kyle opened his mouth for another question, but his mother cut him off. “I’m sure Mr. Collins is tired from his trip. Why don’t we bring him inside and get him something to eat?”

The mother-hen comment made him remember something. “That sounds great, but I have to make a call first.” He swept a hand in Betsy’s general direction. “Go ahead and have a look.”

The kids didn’t have to be asked twice, and he enjoyed watching them gawk at his pride and joy. When he caught Marianne frowning at the plane, he assumed she was angry with him for landing at the farm. With the wedding only a couple of hours away, he understood.

“Matt said it was okay to fly in here,” he said. “But I can head to the airstrip outside of town if you’d rather.”

“No, it’s fine.” Sighing, she shook her head. “When your response card said you were bringing Betsy, I thought she was your date.”

At first, he didn’t get it. When the significance of the misunderstanding hit him, he felt terrible. “And you ordered her a meal.”

“There was no food preference, so I went with the chicken.”

A laugh was threatening, but she seemed like the serious type, and he didn’t want to insult her. “Sorry about that. I figured Matt would know I was flying out here.”

After a second, humor warmed her eyes to the color of a flawless summer sky. “I guess I should’ve chosen high-test.”

They both laughed, and he was relieved that their awkward first meeting had turned into something more positive.

“Excuse me a minute.” He took his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. When Marianne started to move away, he waved her back. “No need to leave. Mom was worried about the weather, so I promised to call her when I landed.”

He punched up her number and waited for the call to connect.

“Your mother is number one on your speed dial?” Marianne asked.

He chuckled. “She wouldn’t have it any other way. Hey, there. Yeah, I’m fine.” He paused, then chuckled again. “Yes, I’m telling the truth. Okay, hang on.”

Holding up the phone, he snapped a picture of himself in front of Betsy and hit Send. While he waited for the picture message to go through, he sighed. He loved his mom to pieces, but she worried about him way too much. For her birthday, he’d gotten her a cute fox terrier to dote on, but it hadn’t changed anything. He still flew, and she still worried. It was kind of comforting, in a way. No matter how old he got, he’d always be her boy.

“Believe me now? Good. Give your little ankle biter a treat for me.” He grinned. “Love you more. See you in a couple weeks.”

He hit the off button and noticed Marianne’s expression. Since he’d just met her, he couldn’t be sure about it, but she seemed to like what she’d heard. “Moms. What can you do?”

“We are what we are.”

“I’m real sorry I didn’t call to tell you about my change in plans,” Ridge apologized again.

She waved it away as she took Emily’s hand and turned toward the house. “We’re used to it.”

As he followed Marianne and the kids inside—carrying his duffel bag and suit carrier—Ridge admired the setting for his best friend’s wedding. The garden out front was magazine-perfect, with a rose-covered trellis and round tables scattered around the expansive side yard. Each one was draped in linen and held a vase overflowing with flowers. There were several racks covered in tarps. He assumed they were for the folding chairs, and he made a mental note to help put them away later.

With the kind of efficiency that came from lots of practice, Marianne pulled out snacks and juice boxes, then set glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea on the table. Ridge decided it was best to get out what he wanted to say.