Pinups and Puppies

  Pinups and Puppies

  By R.L. Merrill

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright © 2019 Celie Bay Publications LLC | All rights reserved.

  Dedication | To Smokey Young... | Your expertise and joie de vivre are much appreciated. | Thank you for your dedication to ensuring quality romantic fiction.

  Acknowledgements

  Bio

  Copyright © 2019 Celie Bay Publications LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any mean, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, photographic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written permission of the publisher. No patent liability is assumed with respect to the use of the information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published By: Celie Bay Publications, LLC

  Edited by: Kelli Collins, Edit Me This

  Cover Design: R.L. Merrill

  Dedication

  To Smokey Young...

  Your expertise and joie de vivre are much appreciated.

  Thank you for your dedication to ensuring quality romantic fiction.

  Blurb:

  Marianne Cross has lived a life of structure and purpose for the past twenty-four years. Now reluctantly retired from the Air Force, her life is missing those two things that have always defined her. As she struggles to decide where her future lies, she finds peace and solitude flying her vintage airplane. When an opportunity with the organization Pawsitive Flight comes along, allowing her to combine flying with a purpose, she’s interested in the possibilities—especially those concerning the owner of Goth Dog Rescue, Dinah Shaw. She’s tough, beautiful, and she makes Marianne want things she hasn’t allowed herself to want in a long time.

  Dinah Shaw is happy with her life’s mission, connecting needy pups with families that will love them. It’s hard but fulfilling work that completely satisfies her—until she meets Marianne Cross. Part of Dinah is more than ready to hop in the jump seat and show the shy pilot a good time, but the other part isn’t interested in another woman who’s just passing through, looking for Ms. Right-For-Now. She’s been there and done that. Until she discovers what she wants to do with her life, Marianne is a possible flight risk Dinah can’t afford to trust.

  Flying rescue dogs to their furever homes may give Marianne new purpose, and even a home of her own in the process...if Dinah can risk her heart on a little fly-by-night romance.

  COPYRIGHT 2019 CELIE Bay Publications LLC

  Chapter One

  The wheels of my Cessna touched down gently on the tarmac at Hayward Executive Airport and I sighed happily. I’ll never get tired of this... Flying on my terms, on my time schedule, in my own plane. There’s just something exhilarating about taking off from a small municipal airport, flipping the bird to The Man, and taking a break from the exhausting requirement of talking to people and telling them again, “I’m fine.”

  Really, I was. Or so I’d told myself every day for the past five months as the career I’d worked for my entire adult life came to a premature end.

  It hadn’t been my choice to retire from the Air Force at age forty-six, but moping around wasn’t going to change anything. I had feelers out for jobs, but nothing sounded interesting. I definitely didn’t want to fly people around anymore—too many memories—and I certainly didn’t want to teach people to fly. I needed to find a purpose, and find it fast, so my family would leave me alone and I could get on with my life.

  I taxied around to the hangar I’d rented and found a visitor. I shook my head with a smile. I pulled the plane into the hangar and turned off the engine.

  “Aunty Em!” Nell bounced on her toes while clutching her tablet to her chest.

  “I see giving you the codes and keys to get in was a mistake.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re a crotchety old lady.”

  Nell was an adorable, if a little pushy, nineteen-year-old college student. I was grateful to have her in my life. My brother had done well raising her to be a talented, outgoing, and persistent young woman. I’d just hoped for a little more time in solitude this afternoon before making conversation.

  “Not as old as your dad. Now, what brings you out to my, ahem, private lair?”

  I’d been thrilled to find this space. When Dad and I came to look at the plane, the owner said they’d be giving up their hangar as well, since they were moving to the desert for retirement. It was exactly what I needed so we were able to take over the rent.

  When my retirement was made official two months ago, I’d returned to the Bay Area to live with my photographer brother Matt, his wickedly funny husband, Zack, and their daughter, and though I loved being with them after twenty-four years of living the nomadic military life, I needed a place to hide. The hangar was big enough for my new baby—Siouxsie, a 1950 Cessna 140A—and a workspace. Matt gave me one of the couches they’d recently replaced, and I bought a small fridge and microwave. All I needed to do was bring some of my art supplies out here and I’d be set. Well, that, and figure out what the hell to do now that I had no job.

  “I heard about this program today while I was at the shelter and I thought it would be perfect for you, now that you’ve got Siouxsie. Come look.”

  Nell plopped down on the sofa and booted up her tablet, her dark brown curls bouncing around her face. “My supervisor got a call from a friend of hers that works at a shelter down near Visalia, and they were looking for someone to take this mom and her puppies before they have to put the mom down, and a local rescue volunteered. They don’t have room there. I would’ve offered to drive down to Visalia myself, but I’ve got finals tomorrow.”

  Nell turned her big brown eyes on me and proceeded to blink back manufactured tears, a tactic that had worked many times since she’d first joined our family.

  “I can’t believe they wouldn’t be able to adopt out the puppies.” I reached for the tablet, my curiosity piqued. Sure enough, the listing said they only had until tomorrow. Most days, I figured people could eat dirt, but I’d do just about anything for an animal in need.

  “Tammy, my supervisor, said they have a program they’ve used before called Pawsitive Flight. Pilots volunteer their time to fly out, pick up the animals, and take them to a place that has room for them or, in some cases, a veterinarian who volunteers their services or a sanctuary for the dogs no one will adopt. I thought maybe you could take a look.”

  I scanned the site Nell had pulled up with interest. It seemed pretty straightforward. Pawsitive Flight provided a service connecting pilots with rescues and shelters in need of transportation, and they worked out the details via text. Pilots were responsible for their own fuel, a representative from the shelter met the pilot at the nearest airport with the animal, and the pilot flew the precious cargo to the specified airport, where a rescue worker met them to make the exchange.

  The pilots entered in the range they were willing to fly, their payload limit, as well as other pertinent details, and got to pick and choose which transport requests they wanted to take.

  “I know we can find fosters for the pups and the mom until they’re all able to be adopted. We work with a great rescue organization that ta
kes on situations like this. What do you think? Is this something you and Siouxsie could do?”

  I paused to think for a minute. I didn’t want to fly people anymore, but dogs? I loved dogs. I hadn’t been able to have one of my own since high school.

  Matt and Zack had always had cats, but when Nell started working at the shelter in high school, they couldn’t resist her plea to foster a dog. That led to the first of several senior dogs they’d rescued and given love to in their final years. Currently, Milo and Bruno—a pair of elderly dachshunds—held the places of honor in the Cross household. I admired my brother and his husband for it, and fell in love with each and every dog, spoiling them rotten. As soon as I was ready to settle down somewhere, I’d already planned to get a rescue dog.

  But that meant making decisions I wasn’t ready to make.

  “I could probably do it. Let me check the weather.”

  Siouxsie could only be flown during the day using visual flight rules. The weather would have to be clear with good visibility. I checked out the weather app on my phone and, sure enough, tomorrow was going to be a gorgeous day. The flight down to the Fresno Chandler Airport would only take about an hour and a half, I could refuel there and get back up to Hayward all in an afternoon. Piece of cake.

  Nell entered all of the information needed into the tablet as I gave it to her, and before I knew it, I’d accepted the job.

  “Thank you so much, Aunty Em! This will be awesome! It says the rescue people will contact you to set up the times.”

  I readied the plane for leaving again in the morning and closed the hangar door. I followed Nell home to the split-level place in the Hayward hills I’d bought with my brother back before the housing boom, when you could still buy a house in the hills for under half a million bucks. I tried not to roll my eyes on the walk up the driveway as Nell gushed about how cool it was that her aunty was going to be flying rescue dogs.

  “Not a bad gig, eh?” Matt asked as we cut up vegetables together for dinner.

  “Nah. Plus it earns me ‘cool aunty points.’ Does that get me anything?”

  Matt bumped me with his hip. “It gets you the undying admiration of your niece, the appreciation of dogs everywhere, and a mission, Lieutenant Colonel Marianne Cross.” He saluted me. I threw a hunk of onion at him.

  “I’ll keep all that in mind.”

  Dinner was chatty that night as our parents joined us, back from their latest cruise.

  “C’mon, Marianne,” General Mason Cross said, shaking his head in frustration. “I told you I could set up interviews for you with any number of consulting jobs, or hell, you could take that job with FedEx flying cargo. I know Dave wants you for that job, he’s just waiting on you. What are you fooling around with this for?”

  “Alexa,” Matt shouted. “Play ‘C’mon Marianne’ on Apple Music.”

  “Playing ‘C’mon Marianne’ by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons on Apple Music,” the pleasantly creepy robotic-voiced device called back. The old tune never failed to make Matt laugh hysterically.

  “Dad, give her some time to breathe. The Air Force owned her for twenty-four years! She deserves a vacation, not some job in an office with a bunch of stuffed shirts.” Matt patted my hand. “You’re always welcome to come manage the gallery. My current manager is a pain in the ass—ow!”

  His current manager, who also happened to be his husband, kicked him under the table.

  “For your information, I am the best manager you’ll ever have. Besides, being a manager means dealing with...ew...people.” Zack winked at me.

  “You could maybe come hang up some of those fantastic paintings you’ve been working on,” Matt added. “I saw the ones you did of the bay. They’re beautiful.”

  It had taken me a while to pick the brushes back up after coming home, but I’d started with some of the old magazines Dad gave me. I loved the old B-17 Flying Fortress and B-25 Mitchell bombers. I’d built models of them as a kid and then, when the painting bug caught me, I learned to paint them. The planes drew me in, and the pinups frequently painted on them continued to hold my interest.

  “Thanks, Mattie.” My brother was always my cheerleader. His support meant the world to me, especially when things went south.

  “Yeah, well, she’s gotta do something with herself. Something that makes money. It’s not like she has—”

  Wendy Cross kicked her husband under the table this time and shut him up.

  No one needed to remind me that I didn’t have a significant other. Dad had been thrilled I’d followed him into the Air Force Academy and into the service, but he’d fully expected me to take a job in support services rather than flying. He’d been less than thrilled when my career choices left me single and without children. Thankfully, Matt and Zack had adopted Nell, which gave our parents someone to fuss over and dote on.

  It left me kind of out in left field, though. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Retired at forty-six? Kinda young to be a spinster and yet too old to give a shit. Part of me was itching to rebel a bit. Not so much against my beloved father, but against expectations of who I was supposed to be.

  My phone buzzed in the pocket of my black cargo shorts.

  “Aunty Em!” Nell threw a cherry tomato at me. “No phones at the table.”

  “Sorry.” I threw the tomato back as I glanced down at my phone. “It’s someone about the flight tomorrow.”

  That got me off the hook with her. “Well, go answer it!”

  “Excuse me,” I said as I pushed back from the table and walked into the other room.

  Thank you for taking the transport request! I’m Dinah with Goth Dog Rescue. I’ve contacted Billie at the Visalia shelter and told her we’d like to take in the terrier and her pups. Please let me know what time I should be at the Hayward Executive Airport. Looking forward to meeting you. Tammy from the Hayward Shelter says your niece can’t stop raving about you.

  I turned on my nosey niece hovering behind me and shoved my phone in her face. “‘Raving’ about me?”

  “What?” She stepped back and then forward to read it. “Well, duh! Of course, I’m proud of you.”

  She had no idea the effect her words had on me. I never thought I’d hear anyone in my family say that again. Thank God I’d been wrong.

  “Auntie Em?” She gave me a questioning look.

  “I’m okay,” I said with a fake smile.

  Nell frowned at me and went to the kitchen.

  Interesting name for the rescue. Matt and I had fallen into the Goth category in high school. The Goth subculture in the ’80s had been made up of kids who hadn’t fit in anywhere else. You could spot us by our outrageous appearance and our alternative music. Our group went to shows every weekend at The Edge in Palo Alto, The Omni in Oakland or the Berkeley Square, and reveled in our outcast status. I still had my Doc Martens, although they’d seen better days, and my leather jacket with the band patches on the back. Depeche Mode, Oingo Boingo, The Cure and, my all-time favorite, Siouxsie and the Banshees. I had such a crush on Siouxsie.

  We’d done each other’s hair in Siouxsie Sue/Robert Smith styles or mohawks, and then left black hair dye all over the bathroom. The General had been royally pissed when we’d pooled our allowance to buy clippers.

  Being out of the service meant I could wear my hair how I wanted, so Matt took over my hair care when I came home, and now the back and sides were buzzed, with the top growing out. It was down to my cheekbone and mostly covered my left eye when left hanging. I was contemplating dyeing it some fun color or black again.

  Goth Dog. Cool name. It will be early afternoon. Around 2.

  I went back into the dining room to help clear the table and was chased out of the kitchen to see off our parents. I hugged them goodbye, and Dad held on for an extra-long moment.

  “I just want you to be happy, pumpkin.”

  I cringed inwardly at the old nickname he’d taken to calling me again ever since “the trouble.”

  “I am, Daddy. Ju
st give me some time to get my bearings. I promise, I won’t disappoint you again.”

  He pulled back with a frown. “Baby, you know better—”

  I kissed his cheek. “Gotta get to bed. I’ve got a mission tomorrow, General.”

  I clicked my heels together and saluted him, causing him to groan and salute back. Old habits die hard.

  “Have a safe flight,” Mom said as we hugged.

  “Will do. I’ll text you when I land at each stop.”

  It made Mom less nervous that way. She’d been horrified that I’d insisted on buying “that death trap,” but Dad had assured her we’d work on it together and he wouldn’t let me fly it if it wasn’t safe. It was kind of nice having Daddy back again, rather than General Cross. Even at forty-six, a girl needed her father.

  I went in to say goodnight to Matt and Zack and found them smooching in the kitchen while Nell made retching noises.

  “Haven’t you learned by now, dear niece, that only encourages them?”

  Nell groaned.

  My phone buzzed again, and I paused at the top of the stairs leading down to my place.

  Yeah. I’m an unapologetic Goth girl. Still have my entire vinyl collection and Doc Martens.

  Dinah’s response surprised me. It wasn’t often that people freely admitted being a part of what Matt and I used to call the Artistically Sarcastic Assembly, or the Melancholy Morose Muses. We changed our Goth gang name frequently, much to the amusement of our friends.

  Matt had worn way more makeup than I did and got into more trouble. I earned straight As, eventually trading in my fishnets for a flygirl uniform and joining the Air Force to make Daddy proud. And proud he still claimed to be, despite the circumstances that ended my career.

  Same. I’ll text you when I’m leaving Fresno.

  “Is everything all set?”

  Nell leaned over my shoulder to see my texts. The little snoop.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Nell hugged me from behind. “Thank you, Aunty! This is gonna be so cool!”