Seeing Red Read online

“I’ll take that in writing,” he said, just as the nurse pushed her out and slid the curtain shut in her face.

  “I love that woman ridiculously,” she heard him say to the doctor, and her entire heart just tipped on its side. She turned and saw her mother waiting, her hand in Kenny’s. Next to her stood Tina. Chloe and the twins had shown up, too, and they had their arms around their mom, Chloe chomping on a big wad of bubble gum, Diana clutching a magazine, Madeline with her head on her mom’s shoulder.

  The whole gang. The whole family.

  Rallying for one of their own.

  As she moved toward them, Summer realized they’d all stiffened, their faces drawn with fright and concern. And she realized she had tears streaming down her face and that she must look like a complete wreck. “It’s okay,” she said. “He woke up.”

  They let out a collective sigh. Everyone hugged, and then Summer took her mom’s hands. “I’m going to stick around for a while. What do you think?”

  Camille cupped her face. “I think I could get used to that.”

  “Me too,” Summer said, and turned when the nurse stuck her head out of Joe’s cubicle.

  “Mrs. Walker? We need you back in here. He won’t cooperate unless he can see you.”

  Indeed Joe was arguing with another nurse over something, and just the sound of his voice made her heart sigh. She could get used to that too, she decided. Very used to that, and moved to stand at his side. “Problem?”

  “Tell me again,” he demanded and gripped her hand tight. “I want to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

  Her heart melted. “I love you.”

  He sighed and relaxed, and let out a smile. “So it was real.”

  “As real as it gets,” she promised and sat at his side.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later…

  Summer sat on the beach not too far from the pier, sipping from a strawberry shake. Her diamond ring twinkled in the sun. She’d had it for months and she still couldn’t stop looking at it. “Trade,” she said, and took back her frozen yogurt from Joe.

  Ashes sat at their feet, perfectly alert, watching every “trade” with careful, hopeful eyes.

  Joe shook his head. “She’s worse than having a kid. Can you imagine?”

  Though she knew he truly couldn’t imagine having a child, their child, she could. The past six months had been heaven on earth for her. She’d begun her own expedition company, all of her treks right here in Southern California, and it fulfilled her like nothing else had.

  Except this man. He fulfilled her. He fulfilled her heart and soul, and she was ready to do as she’d promised him six months ago in the hospital. She wanted to be his wife. She wanted him in her bed every night, and her biggest secret…she wanted his children.

  “Red?” With a finger to her chin, he tipped her face up, concern creasing those eyes she loved so much. “What are you thinking about?”

  “I can imagine having a kid,” she whispered. “Your kid, with your beautiful eyes, and kind, huge heart, with your passion and strength and love of life. I can imagine it, Joe, because you’d make the best dad in the world.”

  His eyes slid to her belly, which while not exactly flat, did not have a baby in it. “I’m not pregnant,” she said quickly. “I’m just saying.”

  He stared at her, his shake forgotten. “Red—”

  “I know.” She managed to smile past the lump in her throat. “You aren’t interested. It’s okay.”

  “It is? Are you sure?”

  She took his hand. “Kids I can live without. What I can’t live without, Joe, is you.”

  His eyes went suspiciously bright and he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. “You humble me right to the core. You know that? And the truth is, kids might be a part of this adventure I shouldn’t miss.”

  Her heart was going to burst right out of her chest. “Joe.”

  Leaning in, he nipped at her jaw, her ear. “In fact…” he murmured.

  Her pulse raced, her eyes drifted closed. “Let’s begin practicing?”

  “I thought you’d never ask…”

  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis has written over four dozen romance novels, including her acclaimed sexy contemporary series set in Lucky Harbor. The RITA Award–winner and 3-time National Readers Choice Award–winner makes her home in a small town in the Sierras. You can find Jill’s award-winning books wherever romances are sold and visit her website for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.

  You can learn more at:

  JillShalvis.com

  Twitter @jillshalvis

  Facebook.com/jillshalvis

  Raised as an army brat, bush pilot Lyndie Anderson has always been independent—and alone. Yet when her cargo is a drop-dead gorgeous fireman, Lyndie suddenly feels a burning desire—one that may ground her for the first time in her life.

  Please see the next page for an excerpt from White Heat.

  Chapter 1

  To Lyndie Anderson, nothing beat being in the cockpit. With the wind beneath her wings and her Cessna’s tank full to the brim, the rest of the world fell away and ceased to exist.

  Not that the world noticed. She could fall off the planet itself and not a ripple would be felt.

  She liked it that way.

  No ties, her grandfather had always told her. Ties held one down. Ties hampered a person’s freedom.

  Lyndie wouldn’t know if that was true or not, as the last of her own personal ties—her grandfather, a staunch lifer in the military—was gone now.

  Kick ass.

  That had been his motto, his mantra. He’d taught it to her on her first day of kindergarten, when she’d stood before her military elementary school, quaking in her boots.

  He’d loved nothing more than to have her repeat it back to him. At five years old, she’d stared out of the corner of her eye at the school, where she could see other little girls dressed in their pretty dresses and shiny shoes and ribbons. They all danced their way through the front door with nary a look back at their misty-gazed mothers, while the camouflage-clad Lyndie had suddenly wanted to cling to the man no one else had ever dared to cling to.

  “Kick ass,” she’d repeated to him softly.

  “What?” Her grandfather had curved a hand around his ear and frowned. “Can’t hear that pansy whisper. Speak up, girl.”

  “Kick ass, sir!” She’d lifted her chin and saluted, aware of the mothers looking her way, no doubt horrified at the rough and tough–looking little girl with the nasty language.

  Her own social status had been cemented that long-ago day, but her grandfather had tossed his head back and roared with gruff laughter, as if it had been their own private joke.

  And it had been. She’d lost her parents two years before that in a car accident, and by kindergarten her memory of them had faded. Few had dared interfere with her grandfather, and as a result, there hadn’t been much softness in her childhood. That had been fine with Lyndie, who wouldn’t have recognized softness anyway.

  They’d moved from base to base, and after her grandfather had whipped each of those bases into shape, they’d take off for the next. She couldn’t remember how many schools she’d attended, having lost track at the count of fifteen before graduating and gravitating toward a similar nomadic lifestyle as a pilot for hire. But she could remember how many different planes she’d flown. She could remember each and every one of them, with her grandfather riding shotgun, teaching her everything he knew.

  Those planes had been her real home, and over the years she’d honed her skills, flying whatever she could get her hands on and loving it. When her grandfather died and his nest egg had come to her, she’d upgraded her old beater Cessna 172 to a six-seater 206, which some liked to say was nothing but a big old station wagon with wings.

  She loved her Station Air as she fondly referred to it. The big thing sure came in handy. Now, at twenty-ei