Three missed calls from Mum instantly fills me with dread. Especially since it’s three calls in the space of twenty minutes. No one calls repeatedly just for a chat. Definitely not my mum on a Friday night; at this time in the evening she should be down at The Wee Donkey, the life and soul of the party.
So I call her back, my heart starting to race. She answers on the first ring.
“Elly!” Something has happened. She’s panicked.
“Yes, Mum?” I spring up from Tristan’s sofa. “Is everything okay?”
Frowning, Tristan looks up from where he’s reading the newspaper on the sofa.
“There’s been a bit of trouble.” Her voice is breaking and breathy.
“What trouble?” I gasp. Now my heart is hammering in my chest.
Concerned, Tristan stands up.
“Someone put a brick through the front window,” she tells me.
“What?” My voice spikes upwards. “Why would someone do that?”
“Barry’s son.” She sniffs. “I called the police but I can’t prove it was Barry’s son.”
“What did Barry say?” I ask bewildered. I knew bloody Barry was trouble. “Why on earth would his son do this?”
She hesitates. “Barry and his wife hadn’t split up too long—”
“Mum, please tell me you weren’t having an affair.”
“No!” she says indignantly. “But the wife isn’t happy about the separation. There’s been a bit of talk in the village. You know what they’re like.”
I do. That’s why I left.
“I’m coming home.” I check my watch, my head full of fog. I usually know the train times but I can’t think straight at the moment.
“No, love, don’t be silly. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“I’m coming,” I say firmly. “It’ll be close to midnight though. I gotta go. I’ll text you.”
We say goodbye and I hang up. Tristan watches me intently.
“Did you hear all of that?”
He nods. “Just about.”
“I have to go to Wales tonight,” I say, overwhelmed. One minute I’m going to spend the evening in Tristan’s jacuzzi bath after a long work week, the next minute I’m heading to Wales to deal with a brick-firing lunatic. “If I hurry I can get an eight o’clock train.”
“No need. I’ll take you,” he says.
I pull back to stare at him. “Tristan, that’s so kind but you don’t need to do that. Anyway, it’s quicker to get the train than drive. I’ll be fine,” I reassure him.
“And it’s much quicker to take a helicopter than the train,” he counters, getting out his phone.
I stare blankly at him. “What?”
He doesn’t look like he’s joking.
“The helipad is thirty minutes from here. Then I can have you in Wales in under an hour,” he states, tapping at his phone.
“Don’t be silly. I can’t get a helicopter to Wales. I’ll get the train.”
As I lift my phone to check train times, he grips my arm.
“I don’t want you getting off a train at midnight alone,” he replies, almost grumpy. “Look up somewhere for us to stay tonight while I notify air traffic control. I’ll ask Danny and Charlie if they fancy a trip too.”
I shake my head incredulously. So, he wasn’t being facetious when he said he would get me a helicopter to Wales the night he stayed at my place. “Are you telling me you have a helicopter on standby for whenever you need it?”
“Yes,” he says impatiently. “Now find us somewhere nice online nearby your mum’s. We need to get going.”
“But…” My protests trail off, he’s already on the phone citing helicopter jargon.
An hour later, we arrive at the heliport in Chelsea Harbour. Danny and Charlie decided that an impromptu road trip, or specifically, air trip, to Wales was a fantastic idea. I’m a bit nervous to be meeting them, I’ve met Danny twice now and only saw Charlie from afar at the Rosemont. All in ludicrous situations and this one isn’t any better.
A few helicopters circle and land as we arrive, and butterflies start swirling like rotor blades in my stomach. Damn, there’s no toilets on a helicopter. What’s a person with IBD supposed to do?
It’s dark now, like, really dark. Do helicopter pilots have owl vision? I reassure myself that Tristan only hires the best in the business.
I’m not a nervous flyer per se, but that’s on a commercial flight.
We walk across the helicopter parking lot and I try to calm myself down. I haven’t been in a helicopter before.
“Hi, Elly,” Charlie greets me with a big smile as Tristan and Danny head towards the reception. She looks like a sexy female version of Tristan, which is a little freaky.
“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” I say shyly. “I can’t believe you guys agreed to come last minute. I wish I could show you around but I’m going to have to go over to my mum’s and sort out a few things.”
“Don’t worry! We can entertain ourselves. I’m ashamed to say I’ve never been to Wales! Danny and I go to Scotland a lot.” She leans in, excitedly. “And of course I wanted to meet you.”
“Oh. So, you heard about me?”
“Only from Danny,” she admits. “I haven’t seen Tristan without Mum recently and he couldn’t mention a girlfriend in front of Mum without being marched up the aisle.” She glances over her shoulder to where Tristan and Danny are walking towards us. “He’ll kill me for saying this but he seems quite taken with you from what Danny has told me. And Tristan has been in an unnaturally good mood these past few weeks. Do not tell him I said that.”
“Bay four, ladies,” Tristan calls out before I have time to bask in the news. We pick up our overnight bags and follow the guys.
“Will there be room for five of us?” I ask Charlie. Most of the helicopters seem to be four-seaters.
“No, just us four,” she says. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“Uh, the pilot?”
Her eyes widen then she slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, he didn’t tell you. Tristan’s taking us. He’s got his licence.”
“What?” I squawk. “Are you taking the piss out of me?” No, he didn’t bloody tell me that vital piece of information.
She shakes her head, laughing. “I wonder if this is all part of this plan to impress you. Although the two of them are so flippant about flying. Danny’s got his licence for small aircraft. Tristan’s training to get a small aircraft licence as well now.”
Fuck.
The men stop outside the last helicopter in the bay.
“Tristan, you didn’t tell me you were flying us.” I swallow nervously.
His eyes crinkle in amusement. “I’m sorry, darling. I assumed you knew.”
Bit of a leap there. “What do you need to do to get a helicopter licence?” I ask with a rigid smile.
“I thought you’d like to sit beside me.” He opens the passenger door and returns me an easy grin. “Forty-five hours of flight training, including ten hours solo.”
“Uh-huh.” I wet my lips. He better have been top of the class. “How many solo hours have you done?”
“Ten hours and five minutes.”
My lips thin into a painful line.
“He’s messing with you.” Danny chuckles. “You need to do over sixty hours to be able to fly at night.”
“I’m not in the right frame of mind for wisecracks,” I mutter as Tristan wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me up into the passenger seat.
The other three climb into their seats, clearly more relaxed than me, and the doors shut with an almighty bang. Danny even cracks open a beer.
“Would you like one, Elly?”
Hell, yeah. I take the beer gratefully. I could do with something stronger like a general anaesthesia but I’ll settle.
He goes to pass a beer to Tristan and my mouth hangs open. “What? Seriously you can’t—”
“I’m joking.” Danny winks. “It’s okay, Elly, you’re in good hands.”
“Don’t tease her.” Charlie scowls. “I was the same on my first trip with Danny.” She pats my shoulder reassuringly.
Tristan leans over and tightens the seatbelt straps around me then buckles me in. “Have you been in a helicopter before?”
“No,” I squeak.
“After this flight you’ll never want to travel any other way,” he says, fixing the headset on my ears. “You won’t be able to hear me until I turn these on.”
He fastens his seatbelt. I watch him flipping switches and other things with shiny lights in the cockpit. Holding my breath, I crush my knees into the window terrified I’ll hit a gear stick or whatever the hell puts a helicopter into reverse.
The rotor blades start turning above us. I feel it in my stomach. It’s so loud. We sound like we’re going to explode. Tristan appears to be having a casual chat with someone through his headset but we don’t move. The build-up is killing me. His Porshe does zero to ninety in nanoseconds and this thing will be on the ground all night trying to take off. There’s no happy medium. Like sex with my ex, John.
Then finally, after what seems like decades, we lift off with a slight wobble and are airborne. The rotor blades are silenced as my noise-cancelling headset magically turns on.
Either that, or I’m dead and don’t realise it.
I close my eyes and try to mentally push my stomach back down my throat. It takes a good minute or two to overcome the unnerving feeling of weightlessness
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” The deep baritone feels like it’s coming from the depths of my mind. A disembodied voice that can hear my thoughts.
I look over and he casts a smile in my direction.
“We are travelling at 1,000 feet above ground,” his voice says in both my ears.
I let out the breath I was holding and take in the multicoloured London skyline with lights from the Shard and other monuments in the sky. It really is spectacular. I wish I had my camera with the good night vision with me.
“Enjoy the view, Elly.” He sounds even deeper and sexier through the headset. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline rush, or the fact my life is in his hands or the fact that he looks so damn sexy with his hand on that control but a sudden and severe bout of horniness hits. I must be ovulating.
“You know you sound like you’re inside my head now.” I let out a breath. “Can you hear all my dirty thoughts? You look so sexy flying this thing. Like a sexy superman.”
“We can all hear your dirty thoughts, Elly,” Charlie’s voice booms in my head.
I slap a hand to my mouth. Duh. “Sorry!” I say bashfully as Tristan flashes a smug grin at me.
We leave London behind, the sky grows darker and before I can finish my beer, Tristan informs us that we are landing in the designated heliport outside Cardiff. Maybe I could get used to this.
“We’re taking this route because of air traffic control,” Tristan explains.
I nod. Does he think I know if we are taking a wrong turn, for fuck’s sake?
We land at a helipad ten miles from my village, which I never knew existed, because why would I?
I’m buzzing from the trip but also because I booked the cottage for the four of us to stay in. I couldn’t believe it when I saw they had turned my favourite cottage into a holiday home.
I’ll finally get to see what it looks like on the inside.
It’s 10 p.m. before we arrive at the cottage. I message Mum to say I’ve arrived. The cottage is as picture perfect as I imagined with its exposed beams, big stone walls and cookstove in the middle of the living room. But I can’t enjoy the cottage until I sort out Mum’s window and make sure she’s okay. Maybe I’ll even ask her to stay here. Then tomorrow, I’ll think of a plan to appease Barry’s brick-slinging son.
The four of us have chosen bedrooms as far away as possible from the other couple. After seeing pilot Tristan, my hormones are on overdrive. I’m eager for an early night.
“Let’s go down to your mother’s now.” Tristan looks at me like he means business. “You won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”
“I can go myself,” I protest.
He folds his arms across his chest. “In the dark? Hell, no.”
I guess I know who is boss this weekend.
We leave Charlie and Danny beside the fire and do the thirty-minute walk through the Welsh countryside to my village. It’s dark and muddy and I’m relieved Tristan demanded he accompany me. I just wish it wasn’t so dark so I could show Tristan the stunning Welsh landscape.
Mum flings her arms around my neck before I’m through the door.
“Mum,” I say, hugging her as hard as I can, before turning her toward Tristan. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“Miss Andric.” Tristan takes her hand and brings it to his lips to kiss it. Lickarse.
“Oh, hello!” she swoons, her jaw hanging open slightly as she takes in Tristan’s broad physique. He’s wearing a blue woollen sweater that distractingly clings to his muscles and matches his eyes.
“This is Tristan, Mum,” I say sheepishly.
Her eyes shine. She seems surprisingly relaxed for having a brick through her window. “What a pleasure! I hardly ever get to meet any of Elly’s boyfriends.”
Neither do I, Mum.
“The pleasure’s all mine.” He flashes her a signature Tristan Kane smile, and she giggles breathlessly. He’s on his A game tonight. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Tristan is ushered into the ‘good room’ by Mum who offers him tea, wine, whiskey, cakes and anything else she can find while I sort out a window fix. No wonder Tristan can’t cook with so many women fussing over him.
He tries to arrange the window repair, but I insist. He also tries to pay but that was a firm no from me. I’m not a charity case.
Mum comes into the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re happy, Elly. Tristan is so right for you. I always knew you would end up with a more mature man.”
“I like him,” I admit. “But it’s early days so don’t get too excited.”
“He also thinks we look more like sisters,” she says smugly.
My smile fades as I watch her breezily retrieve a pillbox from the cupboard. “Do you still need Valium, Mum? What did the doctor say?” I look at the half empty glass of wine pointedly. “You shouldn’t be drinking wine with them.”
She chews her lip. “Stop fussing! I just need a little pick-me-up after the Barry incident.”
I frown. She’s hiding something. She puts three of the pills in her mouth and swallows them with water.
“How many did the doctor say to take a day?”
She tsks. “I told you, stop fussing.”
My eyes narrow. “Let me see them.”
I put out my hand and she reluctantly hands over the pill bottle.
I study the bottle, confused. “It doesn’t say how many to take.” My eyes snap up to hers. “Where did you get these?”
She brushes off my question with a dismissive wave. “It’s not like it’s illegal,” she says, sulking. “A friend of Collette’s gave this batch to me. I’ll pop into the doctors this week and get a new prescript—”
“You bought them from a random person?” What the hell? “You don’t know what’s in these, Mum! They’re not necessarily safe. And Valium has to be prescribed by a doctor because it’s so addictive.”
I researched this as soon as I found out she was taking them. At least last time the doctor had prescribed them. Now it seems she’s self-medicating. “You need to stop taking these. Not unless you go back to the doctor, and he says you need them.”
I put both hands on my hips in fight mode. She turns her back to me, pretending to need something from the fridge.
“Are you listening?” I ask crossly. “I’m not leaving these with you. What if something happens? I could never forgive myself.”
With her back turned to me, her shoulders sag.
“Please stop taking these.” My voice trembles. “If you need me to visit every weekend I will, whatever it takes, but you can’t pick up drugs from random people. I’ll be sick with worry.”
My eyes tear up. “Mum!” I choke. “Look at me.”
After a brief pause, she turns around, her lips pursed together. “Fine, sweetie. I’ll go to the doc’s and get a new prescription.”
I nod and put the bottle in my pocket. “I’ll take these to the chemist and dispose of them properly.”
I come back into the good room to find Tristan lying on the sofa with a glass of wine in his hand. His head dips back as his eyes close. Though he made helicopter flying look easy, he was concentrating on a million different lights and levers simultaneously, with the added pressure of playing God with our lives.
“Tristan,” I say softly, thinking he is going to spill the wine.
Our eyes meet across the room and his face splits into the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen, as if I’m the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
“I’ve sorted it,” he says in a lazy tone. “Your mother gave me the number of the guy who threw the brick. He won’t hassle her again.”
“What?” I exclaim. “How?”
He gives a half shrug. “Easiest payout of my life. We have to go down to the local and pay his bar tab. Then he’ll leave your mum alone.”
I freeze in the middle of the room. “Seriously?”
When he smiles back, like it was no big deal, I burst into uncontrollable tears. I don’t know whether they are happy or sad tears or maybe both. It’s like a tap has been turned on. They run down my face so hard I can’t see him, but I feel him scoop me up in his strong arms, burying my face in his chest. He doesn’t ask why; he just holds me in his arms while my eyes soak his T-shirt.
And that’s when I realise I’m hopelessly and utterly in love with Tristan Kane.
