Read Online The Road to Glory by Blayne Cooper, T Novan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Blayne Cooper, T Novan
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fetched the screwdriver and quickly attached the spring. "Yeah, Carol." She spoke with her head in the engine. "My grandmother named her Carol after the actress Carol Lombard. Me grandmother had a thing for short blondes too." She glanced up at Leigh and winked, surprised that in the dim light she could see a faint blush working its way up Leigh’s neck.
"So this was your grandmother’s truck?" Interested, Leigh joined RJ under the hood to see what she was doing. "And I’m not that short."
RJ snorted as she made the adjustment to the carburetor. "Five foot three and no more, or I’m not RJ Fitzgerald." Her eyes dared Leigh to disagree. But by the narrowing of Leigh’s baby blues, RJ knew she couldn’t. "And this was my Grandmother’s truck. Saved for three long years and bought it brand-spanking new before she went overseas in ’42." She wiped her hands on a rag. "And you are short, but you’re cute too. So that’s bound to count for something."
"Thanks." Leigh smiled wryly. "I think." Leigh retrieved a wrench RJ was eyeing. "So why keep something so ..." She gestured vaguely. "So–"
RJ glared at her.
"– antique?" Leigh finished quickly.
RJ was quiet for so long that Leigh worried she’d hit another sore spot. She was about to change the subject when RJ’s quiet voice breached the silence in the garage. "Because," the tall woman paused, "it’s all I have ... of hers anyway. It’s … well, it’s sort of sad story, lass." RJ glanced at Leigh, feeling unsure of what to say, but more in the mood to talk than she’d been in quite some time. "It’s probably nothing you’d want to hear about."
Leigh laid her hand on RJ’s forearm and gently squeezed. "You’re wrong," she said solemnly. She could feel the warmth of RJ’s skin through the gray overalls she wore and was momentarily distracted. She licked her lips. "I’d like to hear."
RJ nodded slowly as she finished removing the last spark plug. "All right." Another few moments and the plugs were replaced.
Leigh let her backpack slide to the floor as RJ clicked off the light above the workbench, casting it in gentle shadows.
RJ straightened to her full height and used her arms to hoist herself onto the bench, her long legs dangling freely over its edge. She patted the spot next to her so Leigh could join her.
With a boldness that surprised even Leigh, she didn’t join RJ on the workbench. Instead, she moved in front of RJ, standing so close that RJ had to spread her legs to accommodate Leigh’s body. The blonde woman’s hips brushed against RJ’s calves, then inner thighs as she came to rest nearly flush against the bench. She placed both palms flat against RJ’s thighs and looked up into her eyes.
The unexpected closeness seemed so intimate, so intense, that it was arousing and disconcerting at the same time. RJ sucked in a surprised breath.
A slow smile edged its way onto Leigh’s face, and she patted one of the thighs beneath her hand. "Go ahead."
RJ tentatively returned Leigh’s smile. "My Grandmother, for whom I’m named, by the way," she paused, "she delivered planes from base to base in the South Pacific. Where she was killed." Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Nothing like starting at the end of a tale! RJ looked away from Leigh.
With one hand, Leigh cupped RJ’s chin and gently guided the brunette’s attention back to her. For reasons Leigh didn’t understand, what was supposed to be an interesting story about RJ’s truck now seemed very important. To both women. "I never knew any of my grandparents," Leigh uttered quietly, hoping to put RJ at ease. She ran her thumb along RJ’s jaw before removing her hand. "So it’s nice that you at least have something from her. I didn’t know women actually flew. I figured back then they were all nurses and secretaries and stuff like that."
"Well, most were. But there were a few who flew. They didn’t fly fighter planes in combat, but they were how many of the planes got to their final
"So this was your grandmother’s truck?" Interested, Leigh joined RJ under the hood to see what she was doing. "And I’m not that short."
RJ snorted as she made the adjustment to the carburetor. "Five foot three and no more, or I’m not RJ Fitzgerald." Her eyes dared Leigh to disagree. But by the narrowing of Leigh’s baby blues, RJ knew she couldn’t. "And this was my Grandmother’s truck. Saved for three long years and bought it brand-spanking new before she went overseas in ’42." She wiped her hands on a rag. "And you are short, but you’re cute too. So that’s bound to count for something."
"Thanks." Leigh smiled wryly. "I think." Leigh retrieved a wrench RJ was eyeing. "So why keep something so ..." She gestured vaguely. "So–"
RJ glared at her.
"– antique?" Leigh finished quickly.
RJ was quiet for so long that Leigh worried she’d hit another sore spot. She was about to change the subject when RJ’s quiet voice breached the silence in the garage. "Because," the tall woman paused, "it’s all I have ... of hers anyway. It’s … well, it’s sort of sad story, lass." RJ glanced at Leigh, feeling unsure of what to say, but more in the mood to talk than she’d been in quite some time. "It’s probably nothing you’d want to hear about."
Leigh laid her hand on RJ’s forearm and gently squeezed. "You’re wrong," she said solemnly. She could feel the warmth of RJ’s skin through the gray overalls she wore and was momentarily distracted. She licked her lips. "I’d like to hear."
RJ nodded slowly as she finished removing the last spark plug. "All right." Another few moments and the plugs were replaced.
Leigh let her backpack slide to the floor as RJ clicked off the light above the workbench, casting it in gentle shadows.
RJ straightened to her full height and used her arms to hoist herself onto the bench, her long legs dangling freely over its edge. She patted the spot next to her so Leigh could join her.
With a boldness that surprised even Leigh, she didn’t join RJ on the workbench. Instead, she moved in front of RJ, standing so close that RJ had to spread her legs to accommodate Leigh’s body. The blonde woman’s hips brushed against RJ’s calves, then inner thighs as she came to rest nearly flush against the bench. She placed both palms flat against RJ’s thighs and looked up into her eyes.
The unexpected closeness seemed so intimate, so intense, that it was arousing and disconcerting at the same time. RJ sucked in a surprised breath.
A slow smile edged its way onto Leigh’s face, and she patted one of the thighs beneath her hand. "Go ahead."
RJ tentatively returned Leigh’s smile. "My Grandmother, for whom I’m named, by the way," she paused, "she delivered planes from base to base in the South Pacific. Where she was killed." Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Nothing like starting at the end of a tale! RJ looked away from Leigh.
With one hand, Leigh cupped RJ’s chin and gently guided the brunette’s attention back to her. For reasons Leigh didn’t understand, what was supposed to be an interesting story about RJ’s truck now seemed very important. To both women. "I never knew any of my grandparents," Leigh uttered quietly, hoping to put RJ at ease. She ran her thumb along RJ’s jaw before removing her hand. "So it’s nice that you at least have something from her. I didn’t know women actually flew. I figured back then they were all nurses and secretaries and stuff like that."
"Well, most were. But there were a few who flew. They didn’t fly fighter planes in combat, but they were how many of the planes got to their final
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