Free The Sweetest Gift (The McKaslin Clan: Series 1 Book 2) by Jillian Hart Page A

one from the start of time, should have by all rights comforted him.
    It didn’t.
    He felt flawed next to her. A wounded soul who was too tarnished to be near her. The food in his mouth turned to sand and he stood and pushed out of his chair.
    He walked away without an explanation. Left his jacket and his wallet on the table, and his coffee steaming. Kirby watched him with big startled eyes as he pushed out the door and into the cool wind from off the water.
    He stood at the shoreline and let the wind beat at him and the sound of the restless water pull at him until it subdued all the pain.
    Did she approach him? Or did she wait for him to come back on his own? She had no clue what to do as she hesitated on the steep bank. The wind kicked up and she shivered.
    He looked so alone as the storm rolled in, a solitary figure surrounded by a world of gray. He stood like a warrior of old, feet apart, spine straight, shoulders back, head up, as the rain came in a fine curtain of darker gray.
    Well, he certainly couldn’t stand out here in this weather without a coat. As if the elements had decided for her, Kirby tripped down the rocky slope, careful not to spill the coffees she held or drop the bakery sack or her heavy shoulder bag.
    Behind her, car tires whispered on the damp pavement and a few shoppers dashed to their parked vehicles, splashing through the already building puddles. Women chatted through the wind and rain as they unlocked their SUVs. The world around her felt normal and connected.
    And the man on the beach was set apart. Alone. Isolated.
    Sad. That’s how he seemed to her as she waded toward him through the shifting dirt and rocks beneath her sneakers. The water, as gray as the clouds and as pensive, lapped at his boots. He was wet from the rain.
    “Sam?” She wasn’t sure he’d heard her over the growing storm. She stepped closer.
    He had to have heard her, but he remained as still as a statue. She could feel his pain like the rain on her skin. “Sam?”
    “Yeah. I know. The ferry’s getting ready to leave. Guess we should go.”
    He sounded distant, as if he wasn’t really there. Overhead thunder crashed, a metallic sound that rumbled through the clouds for miles, echoing like gunfire.
    He closed his eyes, swiped his hand over his face, wiping away the wet drops from the rain. He looked ghost pale, and his eyes were so dark, it was as if he’d shuttered his heart and soul completely.
    He wasn’t okay, and she hurt for him. With him.
    As if he were dead inside, he took the coat she offered and shrugged into it. He didn’t bother to zip up as the wind lashed him. She pressed a coffee cup into his hand.
    “Are you too good to be true?”
    “Hardly. I had selfish motivations.”
    “You, selfish?”
    “Sure. I figure if I have another double latte, that will be enough caffeine to keep me awake until we get back home.”
    “And you wanted the pilot to have a double shot, too.”
    “Triple, just in case you were sleepy. You look tired.”
    “I’m always tired—don’t worry about it. And I’ve flown birds more tired than this and lived to tell the tale. Between the demanding special ops I flew and the worry over them before and after, I lived on adrenaline.”
    “Well, live on caffeine and keep us safe.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.
    “Special ops, huh? I can’t believe they trusted you with an expensive helicopter. Don’t those cost like millions of dollars? And they let you on board one?”
    “On board? I got to fly those babies. Oh, yeah. I flew a Pave Low. Any target, any place and back.”
    “So piloting our medical flight has to be pretty boring for you, when you’re used to flying in danger.”
    “I’ve had enough danger to last me a lifetime. I’m content enough with a quiet life, and the chance to do some good. Which reminds me, has that little phone of yours rung?”
    She dug it out of the inside pocket in her bag and squinted at the screen. “Nope. No message. I’ll