Turbulent Intentions (Billionaire Aviators #1) - Melody Anne Page 0,15

nothing could ever take away.

Though Sherman was an incredibly wealthy man, he didn’t have a large wardrobe. He sat on the café’s deck wearing his favorite blue cardigan. Tomorrow he’d most likely wear the brown one. Those were the only colors he ever selected for his warm, wool sweaters. Of course, he did have a variety of plaid shirts that he mixed with the cardigans. Today he was wearing a green-and-blue one under his sweater.

He’d lived in the house across the street, where apartments now stood, when he was a young buck right out of the military in the sixties. This neighborhood was worn down and sometimes unsafe, but it was where he’d made a life for himself and for his beautiful bride, Betty Sue.

It was the place where he’d raised his family, and it was the place he would continue to visit until he took his last breath. His family had told him it was time to move on, but it never would be—not in his opinion.

“Do you think this storm will hang around for a while?” Sherman asked Joseph. He and Joseph Anderson had been friends since they were in grade school . . . and Sherman valued that friendship more than all the money in his bank account.

“I sure hope so,” Joseph told him.

“Then maybe I will accept your offer for brunch after we finish our coffee. You have a hell of a view from your place,” Sherman said with a laugh.

“That is very true, my friend. Say the word, and my driver will get us out of here,” Joseph told him. Katherine wasn’t allowing him to drive in bad weather anymore, not with his need for speed, and the accident that had almost cost him his life.

Looking across the street, he caught a glimpse of Stormy Halifax as she struggled to push open the doors to the apartment complex she lived in—the wind fighting her each step of the way. He had begun to stand to assist her when she managed to push through to the sidewalk.

She didn’t pause, looking to be in a hurry as she splashed her nice clean work clothes while rushing through the puddles of water to get to her waiting taxi.

Sitting back down, Sherman smiled and lifted his hand. A frown marred his forehead when she didn’t look over. He watched her bend to open the car door, but suddenly she popped back up and then smiled and waved.

It was a tradition. She’d been living across the street for three years, and if she came down early enough before she had to rush off to work, she would dash over and chat with him for a few minutes. But even if she couldn’t do that, she always left him with a wave and a smile.

Sherman had grown very fond of the young woman. As she pulled away, a sad smile flitted across his lips. The young girl was trying to make it on her own, but sometimes a person was stronger not weaker for asking for a helping hand in times of need. She was a stubborn one, though, and wouldn’t allow him to help her.

Well, he thought, as her cab drove down the street on her way to a job that wouldn’t take her anywhere, he was going to help her—one way or another. His spreading smile took years away from his wrinkled face. It was a good thing Joseph was with him to brainstorm.

“She’s such a fine young woman. I’ve been trying to help her for quite some time, but she’s determined to do everything on her own. That girl isn’t someone who even cares to utter the word defeat,” Sherman told Joseph.

“She looks familiar,” Joseph said as he stared after her, searching his memory. “What’s her story?”

“Her parents were missionaries for a lot of years and then working-class folk, didn’t have a whole lot. Her father died when she was twenty, and it was real hard on her. Her mom was sick so she dropped out of school to take care of her, and then her mother passed last year. She hasn’t managed to get back on her feet quite yet. But she will. She was taught young not to complain in life, and she lives by that motto,” Sherman said.

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help once in a while,” Joseph said as the two of them watched the cab disappear. “But I’ve always admired a woman with a strong backbone. That’s the kind of girl who