Chapter 12

The early morning sun was still hidden behind the horizon fighting the clouds that littered the sky. As a military man it was easy for him to keep the logger's hours and rise before the dawn.

Having to leave Mac was the only thing that made him want to stay. As he showered, his mind was busy with scenarios, none of which had a happy ending. He was being selfish and chose to ignore the little voice that warned him to stay away from her. He just couldn't. Willpower was currently nonexistent.

Harm thought he'd left Mac asleep in bed which made it easier to leave. But when he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, the smell of coffee greeted him. Mac was standing in the kitchen, making a veggie omelet and toasting some bread.

"Morning," she said without looking up.

"Morning." He stared at her, a small, appreciative smile forming on his lips. His shirts really did look good on her. "I thought I left you in bed. Why are you up at O'Dark Thirty?"

She turned, shrugging. "I was hoping to ride with you into town."

Harm folded his arms across his chest, a little worry crossing his face. "Why?"

"My stuff…my clothes, are still at the hotel," she explained, tugging at the oversized shirt - his - she wore.

He had momentarily forgotten that all her things were still in town and there was the small matter of the rental she needed to return. She laughed softly when he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.

"You don't really need clothes," he murmured, grinning as he gazed down at her.

"Oh no?" she challenged and her lips curved upward in small admiration of how boyishly cute he'd become.

"Nope. They just get in the way." He kissed her gently, savoring the taste of coffee on her lips.

Mac's fingers trailed down his chest stopping at the edge of his towel, teasing along his hip. He shivered slightly and she bit back the temptation to strip the terry cloth that covered him. "You might be onto something," she said, deepening the kiss briefly before pulling back. "But seriously, I need clothes."

"You're not going to suddenly leave, are you?"

"No…Do you want me to?"

The sign of distress in her eyes actually broke him a little as he was reminded that none of this would come easy. The hurdles were still there, all lined up in a neat little row for them to jump. "No. Of course I don't want that but…You need to come back. Let me make you dinner, and we can talk... we need to talk. About a lot."

"I know." Her voice softened and her smile was hesitant. "I've been kind of dreading that part."

"Me too." He exhaled slowly and tried to muster the confidence he didn't really feel. "But it'll be okay…It has to be okay. Check out of your hotel and just stay here for now…Stay forever…if you like."

"Forever?" Her heart soared at his words, but she tried to keep her excitement hidden, masking it with a casual nod. "Okay. I'll grab some stuff in town and figure out how to handle the rental car."

"The rental was towed to the office parking lot at work. Just return it." He gave her the keys to the SUV that he kept in the lot in exchange for a company truck Harm drove. "I need you to do me a favor." Harm hesitated, knowing she'd question and most definitely do the opposite but he wasn't about to take a chance. "Stay away from The Bar on the main drag."

"Lemme guess. All the rough-and-tumble types go there?" Mac slid out of his arms, rolling her eyes. That protective side of him while endearing could often turn a touch annoying.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, I don't drink," she said with a shrug. "A bar is the last place I'd go."

"They serve pretty good food too… but, please just stay out of there," he repeated, regretting even mentioning the establishment.

Mac plated his omelet and turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. "I can handle myself in a bar... Marine, remember?"

"I know," he said with a small grin, but his tone carried a bit of unease. "Just don't go in there…please."

She probably wouldn't have even noticed the bar had Her curiosity not been piqued. Reluctantly, she agreed with a nod. "Okay."

A little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone.

When they arrived at the yard, Harm kissed her without hesitation, unconcerned that his coworkers might see. Mac was a little surprised by his boldness, but she didn't pull away. There was something unspoken between them, a lingering tension, a sense of danger she could feel even if he never acknowledged it.

"I'll see you later," he said.

"Be safe, okay?" she urged, glancing at the sky as the wind picked up. It was an unmistakable sign of another approaching storm.

"Always." With that, he strode back to his truck, where a younger man was already waiting, leaning against the door. A moment later, he was gone and she felt the sadness of loss.

Thankfully the rental wasn't too worse for wear. There were a few scratches along the side, and the grille was slightly dented, but since nothing had been hit head-on, the car had no major damage.

She was hesitant when climbing into the driver's seat and almost anticipated the engine struggling to turn over but it didn't. It purred to life just as it had when she first retrieved the vehicle in California.

Grabbing the directions she had printed from the internet, Mac pointed the car toward the main road and began the long drive out of Hood River and Oregon, crossing the state line to return the rental.

She was fully aware that the trip to and from would consume hours of her day. But she was resolute and wouldn't risk even the slightest mistake that could reveal Harm's whereabouts.

After checking out of the hotel, she drove his SUV toward Oak Street, finding a parking spot right along the main road in front of a small bakery. The exterior of the shop was charming, with a striped awning and a hand-painted sign that gave the shop an old-fashioned appeal. As she stepped inside, the scent of warm bread made her stomach rumble.

Lunch was a simple, a crisp salad, a steaming bowl of butternut squash soup, and half of a turkey sandwich prepared with the bakery's fresh, homemade bread smeared with a cranberry spread.

After lunch her first stop was a boutique with soft sweaters neatly folded on wooden shelves and racks of seasonal dresses which lined the back wall. She selected a few pieces and then moved to the next stop, a more casual clothing store, where she picked out a few sets of well-fitted jeans and some T-shirts.

It was the scent of lavender and rosemary that led her to a quaint lingerie boutique next to the bakery. Delicate lace and silk pieces in lovely pastel colors were on display. She took her time browsing and picked several modest bra and panty sets of matching designs.

As she went to pay something caught her eye, a sexy nightie with soft lace tracing its edges. The fabric was so alluring that she ran her fingers over the material, imagining how it would feel against her skin and, more importantly, how Harm might react when she wore it for him. A small smile played on her lips as she added it to her selections.

She dropped off her bags in the SUV, intending to head to the market for groceries and snacks. But as she walked down the sidewalk, the faint sound of '70s rock music made her pause in front of a faded wooden door with a worn brass handle. Above it, a rusting metal sign read The Bar.

Her mind wandered back to Harm's words. Stay away from The Bar. She didn't quite understand why he had warned her. From the outside, the place didn't look rough or dangerous, just a small, low-key establishment where a few people might unwind after work.

Curiosity tugged at her, especially when the door opened and she was able to take a quick glimpse inside. The place reminded her of any other bar she'd been a patron of and not the picture of dive her mind created off his silly warning. The way the man spoke she half expected to see men flying out the front door, fists swinging wildly while security tried to save the day.

She sighed and paused just before stepping inside, her hand hovering near the door, when an attractive gentleman caught her attention. He stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the brick facade.

His grin was playful, his sharp eyes studying her with interest. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a fitted button-down, he had the look of someone completely at ease in his surroundings. "Thinking about going in?" he asked, his tone smooth and inviting.

"No, I wasn't."

"Liar." He chuckled, pushing off the wall. "You are either looking for a quiet drink or a little trouble. And you're in luck, I can offer you both."

Mac instinctively shook her head, a polite but firm no slipping past her lips. "I don't drink," she replied.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her response. "Well, that's a first," he said with a smirk. "So, what brings you here then?"

She glanced back at the wooden door, then at him, debating how much she wanted to say. "Just passing by," she said vaguely. "The music caught my attention."

He nodded as if he understood but didn't quite believe her. "Good taste," he remarked. "Nothing like some classic rock to set the mood." He studied her for a beat before tilting his head toward the door. "So, if you don't drink, I take it you won't be stepping inside?"

Mac hesitated, Harm's words still echoing in her mind. Stay away from the bar. She wasn't sure why this place mattered to him, but the curiosity pulling at her was undeniable.

"I was looking for a friend," she said, her voice carrying a subtle inflection as she added, "but I don't think he's here."

The man's eyes sharpened, noticing the change in her tone. "Your boyfriend shouldn't leave a girl like you alone." He tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her. "Or maybe you ditched the boyfriend and wanna try someone new?" He extended his hand with a charming smile. "I'm Alex and I'm new to you."

Mac chuckled, shaking her head. "Nice try, but I'm not interested," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she ignored his hand.

"Suit yourself." He let his hand drop and studied her for a moment, as if weighing whether he should push further.

Mac turned her gaze back toward the bar for a moment, still unsure of what had compelled her to even stop in the first place. But Harm's words echoed in her mind, and a part of her felt the pull to keep her distance. With a light, amused sigh, she made her decision. "Have a good day, Alex," she said, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You never told me your name," Alex called after her.

"No, I didn't." Mac didn't slow her pace. She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving both the bar and the stranger behind. She would keep her promise to Harm.

For now.

It was late when she pushed open the A-frame's front door. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, leaving the sky painted with wispy clouds in shades of purple and pink.

She held the door open with one foot, dropping a few packages onto the doorstep before turning to grab the others. Just as she was about to bend down, she heard a voice. "You could have asked for help."

She turned to see Harm standing at the bottom of the steps, wearing a light gray shirt and well-worn jeans. His hair was slicked back, and the faint scent of shampoo lingered in the air around him. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of her struggling with the bags.

Why did he have to be so beautiful, even dressed so casually? She found it a touch unfair, the way her heart raced as he strode across the room and reached for one particular bag, the one with a fleur-de-lis emblazoned in the center of a soft peach colored background.

"I know that shop." His voice suddenly dropped into a husky tone, like he was trying to seduce her with just a few words. "Lingerie shopping, Mac?"

If his goal was for her to blush, Mac did. The heat rose to her cheeks almost instantly. He looked at her, with that knowing, slightly amused glint in his eyes that made her want to smack him. The more things changed the more they remain the same between them. "Yeah, so what?"

He tried to peek inside the bag but only caught a glimpse of neatly stacked basic underwear instead of the risqué piece he had hoped to find. Before he could dig any further, she snatched it away.

"There's nothing in there."

"My new underwear isn't there?" she laughed.

"It is, but not... the other things," he emphasized with slight disappointment.

Mac shrugged and dropped the bag onto the sofa with her other purchases. "Sorry, flyboy, hate to bust your bubble." Said "other thing" was tucked away at the very bottom, out of sight. She'd surprise him with the nightie one day.

Her term of endearment made his face fall. He wasn't a pilot anymore and likely never would be again. Mac noticed Harm's change in expression and immediately understood why. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to remind you of the past."

"Don't be. Can't do much about that now."

Mac frowned. "You can still fly private planes."

He could, in theory. But flying a bird like his beloved Sarah would take hours of flight school, tests, and training all so that David Elliott could obtain a pilot's license. And if there was one thing Webb always reminded him of, it was to stay away from old habits. Leave no trace.

"I can't do that anymore. David Elliott is not Harmon Rabb. Understand?"

Mac nodded slowly, pushing down the twist of guilt in her stomach. She understood what he meant, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. "Where's Sarah?" she asked cautiously.

"I don't know."

Her heart sank. "You sold her."

"No… The hangar was sold, and since I wasn't there to move her, who knows where she is." His voice was even but heavy. "I just pray someone is taking care of her."

She swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at her insides. Sarah wasn't just a plane. She was his plane. Mac once found it pathetic to be so enamored with a machine until she learned that Sarah was his baby as well as his father and grandfather before him - the one link all Rabb men shared.

And now, she was gone, just another piece of Harmon Rabb lost in the wreckage of his old life.

Just as well, he supposed. The plane had belonged to Harm, not David.

"I'd always hoped I'd have the guts for you to take me up again," she admitted.

She had loved it for a little while, the thrill of gripping the controls, the exhilaration of dipping and rolling through the sky, and the sound of his boisterous laughter as he skillfully guided them through each maneuver. It was fun until their emergency landing and the relentless pursuit of the poachers destroyed their impromptu day off.

"I would have liked that," he said, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. "I could have taught you to fly."

And he knew she would have caught on quickly. The thought of watching her master the skies under his guidance, would have been a source of pride. And these days, he could use that kind of affirmation.

"You think I would have been good at it?"

"Yeah. You would have been amazing," Harm said without hesitation. He took her hand in his, tilting it slightly at an angle. Then, running a finger along the edge of her palm, he adjusted her fingers to ensure they were touching.

"Lesson one," he said with a small smile. "Next time you're in a car, put your hand out the window and tilt it just like this."

Mac watched him, captivated by the way he spoke. Even now, when flying seemed like a world away for him, the passion was still in his blood. "If you ever watch a plane - any plane - take off, they tilt just slightly. It's called rotation."

He straightened her hand and tilted it again, raising it slightly. "It creates lift…Birds use the same principle to stay aloft without flapping their wings so much. It helps them conserve energy."

His touch wasn't meant to be intimate or romantic. And yet, the light glide of his fingers across her palm had Mac holding her breath. She was completely taken by him. It didn't matter what name he went by now or what job he did. She was his, heart and soul.

"Once you master that, flying is more about awareness than anything else. Aviate. Navigate. Communicate." He kissed the palm of her hand before letting her go. "Unless you're going supersonic, that's a whole new ballgame…I nearly gave up on being a Navy pilot, you know."

She did because one of his dearest friends had filled her in on the details. "Yeah, Keeter told me." At his questioning look Mac shrugged. "Two weeks in the desert gave us plenty of time to talk. You came up quite a bit."

Harm grinned at that and shook his head. He recalled a rather poignant conversation with Jack over dinner and drinks, after they were back on American soil. Keeter had shared many details pertaining to his two weeks in the desert with the Marinet. It was how he'd learned that his best friend had fallen hard for Mac, though she didn't share the same sentiment.

"I heard a little about those two weeks… Jack claims that he tried to kiss you."

"He actually did," Mac admitted.

Harm's expression shifted to concern, but she offered him a soft smile. "It was nice, under the moonlight with a zillion stars overhead. Might have even been romantic if we weren't hiding with Bedouins in the desert… but-"

"But?"

She held his gaze. "I already knew I had feelings for you." Mac shared her feelings with Jack, who couldn't hide his disappointment. Still, he asked her to keep him in mind—just in case his oldest friend didn't realize what a good thing he had. "Jack knew it too."

"Keeter never mentioned it."

"I swore him to secrecy. Promised to break every bone in his body at the mere thought of telling you."

"I wish he would have." Harm frowned, realizing that if he had known sooner, he could have made sense of the feelings that had been quietly ruminating inside him whenever he thought of Mac. It was another missed opportunity in the history of their relationship, and once again, he wondered—what if he had given in to his feelings back then? Could they have been happy together?

She stepped forward and placed a hand on his forearm, a touch that was warm and reassuring. "What are you thinking?"

"Everyone could see it…this thing between us."

"We saw it too but chose to ignore it." They had lives, careers to worry about and managing a relationship in the military was often disastrous. "Can't think about that anymore… We can't undo the past."

Harm knew she was right but he wanted to know one thing: "Who kisses better me or Jack?"

Mac's soft laughter rang out, light and genuine. Her eyes sparkled as she placed a warm hand against his cheek. "You really want me to answer that?" she teased.

Harm arched a brow. "Absolutely."

She tilted her head as if considering her options. "Well… Jack is smooth, confident."

"Pretty sure you mean cocky and obnoxious." He interrupted already feeling his annoyance growing

"That's the pilot in both of you But, he knows how to make a moment count." She let the words linger, watching as his features darkened. "It was nice, really nice. Jack's one helluva kisser."

"And me?" He asked, holding his breath while his gaze locked on hers.

Mac's fingers trailed from his cheek down to his collarbone, her touch so light and yet it was setting his soul on fire. "You?" She sighed and her eyes closed as if in a dreamlike trance. Part of her hated that he made her feel like such a wanton woman but damn if she could help herself.

When she opened her eyes she found his lingering on her lips, the ones she moistened with the tip of her tongue. "You don't just kiss, Harm. At the risk of sounding like some cliche, it's like making love… You make me feel like I'm the only woman in the world. Like I belong somewhere… with you. I guess that's why this - us - took so long. We were both scared because it is bigger than everything else. I get it now."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, let me show you." And then, she kissed him. Slow and deliberate , her lips brushing against his as if savoring the moment. Making up for lost time.

Harm responded instinctively, his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her in. The kiss deepened and

when they finally parted, breathless, his forehead rested against hers. "Yeah." He said with a grin, "It's definitely me."