Soaring with Fallon Read online

  “Thanks.” I hang up, not at all sure of what Spread Your Wings is, but a phone number comes up when I Google it, so I call.

  “This is Noah.”

  “Uh, hi, my name is Fallon. I just found an injured eagle.” I repeat my location.

  “Don’t move,” he says briskly. “I’m coming right now. How far up the trail are you?”

  “I’m maybe twenty yards from the top.”

  “Of course, you are,” he says. “Looks like I’m going for a hike. I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes. Can you stay there?”

  “I’ll wait,” I confirm, and he hangs up. “Well, looks like help’s coming. Don’t worry, they’ll get you all fixed up.”

  I’m talking to an eagle.

  I sit on a stump and don’t take my eyes off the bird. He’s watching me, as well.

  “I’m friendly,” I say. “And I won’t hurt you. How long have you been here?”

  He squawks, making me smile.

  “Maybe you don’t speak English. I’ll be quiet. But I’m here with you.”

  I take two long, deep breaths, trying to calm my heart. If I’m upset, the bird will be upset. I don’t know how I know that, I just do.

  It’s like when you’re trying to calm an upset baby.

  Not that I’ve ever had a baby.

  “Now I’m being ridiculous,” I mutter.

  It feels like three hours later when I hear someone hurrying up the trail.

  “Fallon?”

  “Over here,” I call and stand, waving my hands. “We’re over here.”

  A man appears, carrying a huge animal carrier. He’s hardly winded, and I know he had to practically run up the mountain to get here so quickly.

  “I’m Noah,” he says. “Where is it?”

  I point to the bushes, where the eagle has finally calmed down.

  “He’s there. One of his wings isn’t moving.”

  Noah approaches the bird, and before I know it, he’s secured something over its eyes and manages to put it in the carrier.

  “Wow, you’ve done that a time or two.”

  “Or fifty,” he says with a smile. “I’ll get him down to the sanctuary and have a look. Thanks for calling it in.”

  “Of course,” I reply and watch as he walks away, hurrying down the trail. “Bye.”

  I look around, not sure what to do next. So, I finish my hike to the overlook and watch the boats, take in the sounds of the woods around me, and then start back down to the Jeep.

  What a weird day.

  * * * *

  “You totally saved an eagle’s life,” Nina says before taking a bite of her pancake.

  “No, I called Noah, and he saved it.”

  “He wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t called. Noah’s a nice guy.”

  “Do you know him?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “I’d never met him before the trail.”

  “Sure. Noah’s good friends with Max Hull and the rest of the Hull family, I guess. I’ve met him a few times.” She stops chewing and grins at me. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

  “Is he?” I sip my tea. “I didn’t notice.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m a coal miner’s daughter.” She leans in. “He’s single.”

  “How nice for him.”

  She smirks. “And you’re interested.”

  “How did we get on this subject?”

  “You should go see him,” she continues. “And check in on your eagle.”

  I blink at her, thinking about it. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re an attractive, single woman, and Noah’s single, and you should go flirt with him. What will it hurt?”

  I frown. “I never said I wanted to flirt with him.”

  “Fallon, we may not know each other well, but I know the look of a woman who’s interested in a man. And when you said Noah’s name, you got that look.”

  “Okay, so he’s attractive,” I reply. Yeah, try smoking-hot in all fifty states. “That doesn’t mean I need to go flirt with him.”

  “Are you dating someone else?”

  “No.”

  A slow smile spreads over her lips, and I feel myself start to give in.

  “Fine. I’ll go check on the eagle. But only because I’m concerned.”

  “Sure. That works. Okay, now that I’ve solved your love life issues—”

  “I don’t have love life issues.”

  “—let’s talk about something else just as fun. I’m starting a business in town, and I’d like to talk to you about some opportunities.”

  “I have a full-time gig between the Lodge and the studio downtown.”

  “Well, just hear me out, and then you can give it some thought.”

  I nod, and Nina continues, telling me all about the business she’s starting with two of her friends from California. A company to help busy women.

  “Basically, there may be times that I would call to book an in-home yoga session. We could work around your schedule, of course.”

  “Interesting,” I reply with a nod. “It’s something to think about, for sure.”

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Saffron and Lindsey will be here in a couple of weeks, and we’re hoping to have things up and running next month.”

  “Thank you for thinking of me,” I reply.

  “You’re the best in town,” Nina says with a wink. “And we want the best. So, think it over, and we can get together anytime to fine-tune things.”

  “Thank you.”

  Once I leave Nina, I make my way over to Drips & Sips for my favorite tea. I have my own lemon oil with me to flavor it, ignoring the looks I get from the tourists waiting for their lattes, and then I climb in my Jeep and drive out to the Spread Your Wings bird sanctuary.

  I looked up directions this morning before my breakfast with Nina.

  Something just told me I should go and say hello.

  And I usually listen to that something.

  The sanctuary is out of town, in the middle of nowhere. Which makes sense because the animals are wild and they need plenty of space.

  There’s a farmhouse across the pasture from the industrial buildings. And the sign over the driveway says Spread Your Wings.

  This is the place.

  I park and walk into an office area that’s currently deserted.

  “I wonder if I should have called ahead,” I mutter out loud.

  “Nah, there’s always someone bustling about.” I startle at the voice and turn to find Noah standing behind me with a grin. “Fallon, right?”

  “Yeah.” I reach out to shake his hand and feel the warmth climb all the way up to my shoulder. His hand is callused and large, engulfing my small one. “And you’re Noah.”

  “Guilty,” he says. “Did you come to check on your eagle?”

  And to check you out.

  “I did,” I say. “I know it probably seems weird, but—”

  “Not weird at all. Follow me.”

  We walk outside and down a long, paved sidewalk that meanders between several buildings.

  “I wasn’t expecting it to be this big,” I say.

  “That’s what she said,” he replies with a grin, and I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. We’ve grown a lot in the past few years, thanks to donations and grants. Most of these buildings back here, along with all the concrete sidewalks, are new.”

  He leads me into a big building and down a row of cages, then stops and gestures.

  “Well, hi there,” I croon. “How is he?”

  “He has a broken wing,” Noah says and sighs. “We can’t tell what caused it. But I think that with about six weeks of healing time, he should be good to be released back into the wild.”

  “Really? That’s amazing. What if he can’t live in the wild again?”

  “He’ll stay here, with us, and we’ll use him for education. He’ll have a cushy life here, but I suspect he’ll be leaving us. He’s a healthy guy.”

  We’re quie
t as I watch the bird. He looks at me as if he recognizes me. There’s a splint on his wing.

  “I’m so glad I found you,” I murmur.

  “Me, too,” Noah says and smiles when I look over at him. “The bird, not me.”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Most of my life, but I started the sanctuary eight years ago. I have a masters in zoology from Colorado State.”

  “Wow. And you came back to Cunningham Falls?”

  He grins, and I feel it in my gut. Goodness, Noah King has a great smile.

  “I have roots here,” he says. “It’s home.”

  I nod and look back at the eagle. “He’s gorgeous.”

  “You can visit him anytime you like.”

  I start to decline but reconsider. “You know, I just might do that.”

  “Good.” He clears his throat. “I hate to do this in front of our feathered friend because I’ll be embarrassed if this goes badly, but can I interest you in dinner?”

  I blink, taken off guard. “Tonight?”

  “Anytime you like,” he replies with that easy smile. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Right now.”

  “It’s not even noon.”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  I laugh and look down at my feet, then shrug. “Sure. A girl has to eat, right?”

  “Exactly. May I see your phone?”

  I unlock it and hand it over, and he punches in some numbers.

  “I just texted myself. If you text me with your address, I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  I say goodbye to the eagle, and Noah escorts me back to my Jeep.

  “I’ll see you tonight, Fallon.”

  “See you.”

  I drive away, the memory of Noah’s voice tickling my mind. The way he says my name is like a promise. Like he enjoys the sound of it on his tongue.

  Fallon.

  It’s not like me to accept a date invitation, but there’s something about Noah King that I like very much. What will one dinner hurt?

  Chapter Two

  ~Noah~

  Fallon intrigues me. I’ve seen her around town once or twice, and each time, I’ve stopped to get a good look at her. And when I saw her standing on that mountain, watching over the eagle, I knew I’d ask her out the next time I saw her.

  She’s a pretty little thing, and I do mean little. She can’t be much more than five-foot-two, and her body is lean. Petite. Her dark hair is long, and today, she was wearing it down.

  It’s the kind of hair a man wants to get his hands in, to hold on to.

  And when she smiles, and her green eyes light up, well, it hits me right in the gut. I’ve been thinking about her all damn day.

  I’m ready to spend some alone time with Fallon.

  I park my truck in front of her little house and walk up the walkway to her porch, then ring the bell and shift back and forth on my feet, surprisingly nervous.

  I don’t go out on many first dates.

  Hell, I don’t go out on many dates at all.

  I’m focused on work and my family, and I haven’t had a lot of time to pursue a woman for anything other than a mutually enjoyable bounce on the bed.

  Fallon opens the door, and I feel my jaw drop.

  “Wow.”

  She grins, her green eyes happy as she steps back to let me in. “Wow yourself,” she says, not shy at all about looking me up and down, and by the expression on her face, she likes what she sees.

  Which is completely mutual.

  Her dress is short with orange and purple swirls on the material. It looks soft.

  “I’m trying to decide on shoes,” she informs me as she closes the door and leads me into the living room. The house is small but furnished nicely. There’s no clutter to speak of, and I don’t think that’s because I came over.

  Something tells me that Fallon doesn’t keep clutter around.

  “What are the choices?” I ask.

  “These.” She lifts a pair of sexy-as-fuck heels in one hand. “Or these.”

  The other pair is black flip-flops.

  “I know they’re not as fancy, but they’re comfortable. So my question is, where are we going?”

  “I was thinking dinner at Ciao,” I reply, imagining her legs propped on my shoulders with those heels on her feet.

  Stop it.

  It’s the first date.

  She walks over and stands next to me, craning her neck to look up at me.

  “You’re what, six-three?”

  “Six-four,” I reply with a grin.

  “I’d better wear the heels.” She slips them onto her feet and then looks up again. “Oh, yeah, that’s better.”

  “They do incredible things to your legs,” I reply as she walks across the room to gather her purse. Her muscles are toned, and her legs are long, especially for someone so short.

  “Thanks.” She glances around. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

  I escort her to my truck, which I’ve never had issues getting in and out of, but Fallon stares at it dubiously.

  “This isn’t a short-girl truck.”

  “No.” I laugh. “Short-girl trucks aren’t good for actual work. Here.”

  I boost her up into the seat, shut her door, and then round the truck to climb in next to her.

  “I’ll remember to use the SUV next time.”

  She looks over at me with a raised eyebrow, her lips tipped up at the corners. “Already planning on a next time?”

  “Hell yes, I am,” I reply as I pull away from the curb and drive us into town. I made reservations, so when we arrive, we’re escorted right to our table.

  “I’m Rebecca,” the waitress says, writing her name on the white paper that covers the table. “I’ll be your server. Can I start you out with drinks?”

  I glance at Fallon, completely at a loss for what she might like. I don’t even know if she drinks alcohol.

  “I’d love a glass of the pinot gris,” Fallon says and smiles.

  “I’m happy with a Pepsi,” I reply and smile at my date as the waitress walks away. “So, how long have you lived in Cunningham Falls?”

  “About two years,” she says, reading her menu. “How about you?”

  “Since the day I was born,” I reply with a smile. “So, if you have questions about anything, or if you need to know who’s who, I’m your best bet for information.”

  “I’ll remember that,” she says and sets her menu aside. Rebecca returns with our drinks and takes our order, then leaves us alone. The restaurant is busy and loud, but we’re at a corner table, away from the hustle and bustle. “What do you like best about living here?”

  “Good question.” I sip my drink, thinking it over. “Well, my family is here, and it’s a big unit. So I like being here in case any of them needs me. I ski, so being so close to the resort is awesome. Do you ski?”

  “No. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “Just one brother. Gray. He does construction and teaches ski lessons in the winter. But I have plenty of cousins. Our roots are deep here. What about your family?”

  Fallon sips her wine, and I watch the way her lips pucker. I’d love to get that mouth on mine.

  “I don’t really have any family to speak of,” she says calmly. But before I can ask for more information, she says, “Did you like living in Colorado?”

  “It was fine,” I reply. “But it wasn’t home.”

  She just nods.

  “How long have you taught yoga?”

  “Only for about five years,” she says with a smile. “I used to be an accountant.”

  She frowns as if she didn’t mean to give me so much information, and I have to admit, her short answers are frustrating. For the first time in my life, I’ve met a woman who doesn’t want to talk about herself, yet I want to know all there is to know about her.

  “That’s very different from yoga.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” she says. “Do your parent
s live around here?”

  I frown. “Why do I get the impression that you don’t want to talk about yourself?”

  Holding her wine glass, her hand pauses a few inches from her mouth. “I’m telling you about myself.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re giving me short answers, then turning it back to me. The point of a first date is to get to know each other so we can decide if we want to keep seeing each other.” I lean over and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Why so mysterious?”

  “I’m not mysterious,” she says, frown lines forming between her eyes as she glances down.

  “Are you wanted by the FBI? Are you part of the witness protection program?”

  She smiles. “No.”

  “Serial killer?”

  “I mean, I do enjoy cereal. Wheat Chex, usually.”

  “You’re a smartass,” I say thoughtfully. “I like it.”

  She laughs. “Pistachio ice cream.”

  “Go on.”

  “Pistachio is my favorite ice cream.”

  “Okay.” I lean in, intrigued. For some reason, I get the feeling that Fallon doesn’t always share a lot of details about herself. “What is it about that flavor you love?”

  “Well, I like the green color,” she says with a smile. “And I like that it’s not too sweet. Also, pistachios are healthy so I can say I’m eating health food.”

  “See? This isn’t so hard.”

  She blows out a breath. “Harder than it looks.”

  “I’m not scary,” I inform her, all the humor gone from my voice. “I’m just a nice guy, trying to get to know you better. And now I know that you like pistachio ice cream and green and pinot gris.”

  She smiles, and I swear it lights up the whole damn room. “What kind of ice cream do you like?”

  “I’m a chocolate kind of guy, but I’ll take just about anything over at Scoops. Except the huckleberry.”

  “Wait, you were born and raised in Montana, and you don’t like huckleberry ice cream?”

  “I know, I’m surprised they haven’t asked me for my Montana card. I think I just had too much of it growing up.”

  “No huckleberry for you then,” she says and leans back as our meals are delivered. Hers is a meatless pasta dish with a white cream sauce, and mine is good ol’ spaghetti and meatballs.