Love’s Landing Zone – Chapter 3
Ruby was not running away from the audit debrief, but if anyone had suggested a post-evaluator bonfire involving s’mores and minor arson, she might have volunteered the gasoline.
Instead, she found herself at Driftwood Cabin’s back porch with a suspicious-looking mug, a fish-scale still stuck to her boot, and the ghost of Marisol Vega’s clipboard on Audit Day Two haunting her peripheral vision.
A head popped out from behind the smokehouse.
“Ten bucks says she spikes her tea with fireweed moonshine,” Nate said, whisper-shouting to his twin.
“Fifteen says she tries to drink it through her nose.”
“I can hear you!” Ruby hollered back.
Tommy appeared behind the twins, eyebrows raised and arms full of folding chairs. “We’re having a post-trauma decompression circle. Therapy by s’more. Attendance is mandatory or Aunt Sylvie gets her lecture voice.”
“Oh God,” Ruby muttered. “The one with the prolonged eye contact and emotional probing backed by passive-aggressive baked goods?”
Tommy set down the chairs and gave her a solemn nod. “The muffins of judgment have already been spotted cooling.”
Ruby sighed and helped him with the chairs.
The gathering happened on the riverbank, illuminated by citronella torches and what appeared to be Beau’s portable ring light, zip-tied to a fishing rod.
“You’re welcome,” Beau called, adjusting the angle. “This is prime golden hour. The internet demands authenticity, preferably in 4K.”
Ruby took one look at the cozy circle of LaRoches holding marshmallow skewers and exchanged a conspirator’s glance with Tommy.
“How many of your relatives are legally influencers?” she whispered.
“At least half,” he said. “We dealt with our generational trauma by monetizing the aesthetic.”
A strange rite of welcome, but endearing in a feral sort of way.
Aunt Sylvie stood at the front like a cruise director ready to announce the salsa contest.
“All right, misfits. Tonight’s theme is Collective Emotional Honesty and toasted marshmallows. Everyone gets one minute to name a positive thing from today or admit which government acronym gives you hives. Ruby, you start.”
“Oh, no pressure.” Ruby raised her mug like a makeshift shield. “Okay. Um. My positive might be… I only mildly humiliated myself twice in two days in front of a woman who makes IRS agents seem cuddly.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the circle.
“Also, Nick and Nate tried to gift me a fish eyeball, so I think we’ve bonded on a spiritual level.”
“You’re one of us now,” Nick (or Nate) said, holding the aforementioned eyeball in an Altoids tin.
Tommy leaned over and whispered, “I’m not sure if that’s a friendship token or a warning.”
“Both,” Ruby whispered back. “Definitely both.”
As the talking stick, a waterproof flashlight covered in glitter tape, made its way around the circle, Tommy’s turn came. He shifted in his chair, gaze fixed somewhere between the river and Ruby’s knee.
“I, uh…” he paused, cleared his throat. “I liked the landing today.”
A pause.
Ruby blinked. “The one with the landing zone cones blown away? Where we nearly reenacted a helicopter ballet?”
Tommy nodded, smirking. “Yeah. Because even when I messed up you stayed calm. Handled it.”
Ruby stared at him. “That’s your highlight? My tactical twitch-face?”
He shrugged. “You’re steady when things go sideways. It’s comforting.”
“Comforting like soup? Or comforting like fireweed tea meant to emotionally disarm you?”
Tommy grinned. “Like emergency chocolate in your back pocket during a medevac.”
Aunt Sylvie clapped. “Perfect answer. Give that boy a double s’more and a kiss.”
Tommy’s eyes widened. Ruby choked on her tea. The twins cackled.
“Not necessarily in that order!” Sylvie added, already loading cookies.
Beau zoomed his phone for dramatic effect and whispered metal-detector-style narration to no one in particular. “And here we see the native flirting ritual of the river folk: shared desserts and subtle emotional exposure under torchlight…”
Another marshmallow caught fire like a signal flare.
Back on the porch later that night, Ruby sank into her favorite swing again, grateful that Sylvie had turned off the s’more-based inquisition and sent everyone to bed with full bellies and at least mild psychological closure.
Tommy joined her with a soft creak and a melted s’more pressed onto a napkin.
“This is either an apology for the landing or a down payment on a future embarrassment,” he said, offering it.
She accepted the gooey mess with a grin. “I’ll take both. It’s insurance.”
The night hummed around them. A breeze rustled through the trees, and somewhere upriver, a loon called, contributing to the emotional ambiance.
Ruby took a bite of the s’more and got marshmallow on her cheek and half-melted chocolate on her sleeve. “Very elegant,” she muttered, attempting to lick her thumb without dignity.
Tommy chuckled and passed her a napkin. “Ten out of ten form. The judges are weeping.”
“You wish you had this level of snack commitment.”
“I admire it from afar,” he replied with mock solemnity, though he leaned a little closer, plucking the stray marshmallow thread from her jaw with a touch gentler than it had any right to be.
And then didn’t move.
“I think Sylvie ships us,” Ruby blurted, just to do something about the spiraling tension between them.
“Oh, she’s practically knitting us matching sweaters,” Tommy said.
“Do those sweaters come with boundary issues and unsolicited relationship advice?”
“I think that’s standard in the LaRoche Family Starter Pack.” He smiled, but there was something quiet behind it. A question he maybe didn’t know how to ask.
Ruby shifted on the swing, bumping his knee with hers. “Full disclosure. I’ve never dated someone with this many relatives. Half of whom seem to livestream their feelings.”
Tommy gave a low laugh. “Fair. There’s a learning curve.”
“You mean the part where I awkwardly confess I like you and then your cousin edits the footage into a TikTok thirst trap?”
He fake-gasped. “You like me?”
Ruby smirked. “I don’t suffer through fish eyeball rituals for just anyone.”
“Well,” he said, voice going soft, “I feel honored. And slightly grossed out.”
“Appropriate response.”
There was a beat.
And despite every instinct telling her to deflect—crack another joke, mention Beau’s suspiciously romantic lighting setup again—Ruby let herself stay in the space between sarcasm and sincerity. The space she and Tommy kept finding together. Uncertain, sure. But real.
“I like you too,” he said finally. “Even when you’re twitchy. Especially when you’re twitchy.”
“That’s good. Because audit season? Peak twitch.”
He chuckled, then grew quiet. Something about the evening light reflecting in his eyes made butterflies spiral.
“We, uh…” he paused, tapping his finger on the swing. “We don’t have to rush anything. Just… y’know. Get through the drills. See what happens.”
“You mean keep flirting badly in public under the judgmental gaze of bureaucrats and ravens?”
His smile lit slow, then brightened. “Exactly.”
“Deal,” she said.
The swing creaked again as they shifted, a synchronized breath, a moment found.
And then rustling from above.
“Hey lovebirds,” came Beau’s voice from the roof, followed by the mechanical hum of a drone taking off. “Fair warning. Greg the raven dive-bombed my GoPro, so this next livestream might include an avian assault. Lean into it, okay? Viral potential’s strong.”
Ruby groaned as she leaned her head against Tommy’s shoulder. “I swear, if I end up on another ‘Heli-Hottie vs. The Drone’ compilation—”
He laughed and draped his arm around her like it was easy. Like they’d done it a hundred times. “At least we’ll look good in 4K.”
And somewhere on the roof, Beau cheered, “That’s the money shot!”
Ruby sighed. “Is it too late to transfer to a base where the definition of ‘family’ doesn’t include interpretive TikToks?”
Tommy grinned at her. “Absolutely too late.”
“I figured.”
But she didn’t move. And neither did he. Because honestly…
Too late had never felt so right.
You have been reading Love's Landing Zone...
Tommy LaRoche was the best pilot Ruby had ever flown with. He was also hiding something that could get them both killed.
As a flight medic, Ruby Olsen’s career depends on control, but she’s losing it fast around her partner—a six-foot-two river cowboy with a quiet confidence that unravels her.
Living at his family’s fish camp, she finds herself drawn into his world. He sees past the competent medic to the woman underneath, and his steady support becomes the one thing she can’t live without. But the closer they get, the more she fears his carefully guarded secret is a danger to them both.
With a high-stakes government evaluation threatening to ground their program for good, Ruby must convince the man she’s falling for to trust her with his career—and his heart—before they lose their jobs, their grant, and a love that’s just beginning to take flight.
