Even if the sky is falli.., p.1
Even If the Sky is Falling, page 1
edited by Taj McCoy
EVEN IF THE SKY IS FALLING
Lane Clarke
Farah Heron
Taj McCoy
Charish Reid
Sarah Smith
Denise Williams
For the ones who hold up the stars for us even when the sky is falling.
You know who you are.
Introduction
Dear Reader,
Picture this: the sky is falling. Literally. And the world as we know it is about to end. (Or so everyone thinks.) What would happen next? Would you reveal your long-standing crush on your grumpy boss? Would you reach out to the one who got away? Or the one you ran away from? Luckily for us, some of the romance genre’s most exciting voices—Taj McCoy, Farah Heron, Lane Clarke, Charish Reid, Sarah Smith and Denise Williams—have come together to answer that very question. Now, I don’t want to be too spoilery, but one of the stories features the ultimate hero trifecta: (1) he’s wearing a Henley (2) that shows off his strong forearms (3) as he reads a feminist romance. Perfection, right?
I’ll let you in on a little secret: “If The World Was Ending,” a song performed by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels, is one of my favorite songs ever. In it, two former lovers declare that if the world were ending, there’s nowhere they would rather be than with each other. To say that the premise of this anthology is the stuff of my tender heart’s dreams would be an understatement. Reader, I know you’re going to love these stories filled with tension, hope, all the swoons and, yes, plenty of sexy moments. So grab your favorite beverage and settle in for a good time—you’re guaranteed to have one.
Hugs,
Mia
Contents
All the Stars by Taj McCoy
Keep Calm and Curry On by Farah Heron
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
My Lucky Stars by Lane Clarke
Bunker Buddies by Charish Reid
Interlude by Sarah Smith
Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better by Denise Williams
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue by Taj McCoy
Acknowledgments
Author Bios
ALL THE STARS
* * *
TAJ McCOY
All The Stars
“Willy Song, we are leaving this base and heading to the station in eight minutes, with or without you,” Halley growled through gritted teeth into her phone. She hung up before he could respond. This is the last time I allow this joker off base before a mission.
The dry air kicked up dust in the breeze, but the September heat radiated off the tarmac outside a small hangar. Halley Oakes was one mission away from being promoted from a NASA senior communications specialist to project manager, and it all depended on the success of this team. Based on those she’d been assigned, Halley had her doubts that her promotion was any closer than it had been a year before. More than once, Song had put her in a bind that left her with egg on her face in front of her superiors. He could complete most of his job, but not before making matters worse. She was sure someone had been joking when she read the team roster days before.
“I’m here, I’m here!” Willy jumped out of an SUV that hadn’t come to a full stop with a cloth grocery bag, clanging its contents in one hand and a mission binder in the other. “Man, I hope we have time for a pit stop, because I think I had some bad shellfish last night, and a three-hour ride with me could be unpleasant.” He scrunched up his nose, waving a hand in front of his face comically until he caught the arctic glare of his superior. His wiry hunched form straightened, and he pushed his floppy dark hair back so it wouldn’t fall into his eyes.
Ew. “What the hell is that you’re carrying, Song?” Willy Song was the tech specialist that no one chose for essential missions. Between his inappropriate jokes, his constant need to overshare and his record for accidents, there was no way he should be assigned to this detail. Of course, tell that to the chief—Song happened to be his only nephew.
Song hesitated briefly before a sly grin spread across his face. “Have you ever tried a peanut butter stout, boss?” He held open the bag by its handles to show off its contents—a six-pack of beer and a bag of pretzels. He practically danced with excitement, his feet tapping the tarmac to the beat of a rhythmless drum. “It’s locally made at a brewery here in Boulder. It’s supposed to be amazing, with subtle hints of chocolate and peanut butter.” He chef-kissed his fingers as his eyes rolled back.
“Ew, no, and don’t call me that. I like Oakes just fine.” Halley wrinkled her nose. Beer was never really appealing to her, and adding peanut butter wasn’t likely to make it better. She smoothed her hands over a self-imposed uniform of black cargo pants, work boots and a thin V-neck sweater with a small NASA emblem embroidered high on the left breast. Her curves felt understated in this uniform, and her thick halo of curls was pulled back into her standard “work attire” bun. She pushed the sleeves up her forearms, wishing she’d opted for something short-sleeved in this heat and running through the inventory of other clothes in her go bag.
“Everyone else here, boss?” Song eyed the black Escalade loaded with equipment for the installation.
“Glenn is already in the truck. We’re just waiting on Simmons.” Halley checked her watch for what felt like the millionth time. Jake Glenn, their systems engineer, always arrived like clockwork. Lynn Simmons, a part of the protective detail, usually beat everyone there and would nap until it was time to move. Where is she?
“Simmons? I thought she got reassigned for that detail in Florida?” He shifted his binder under the arm holding his prized beer so he could scratch his head before unsuccessfully trying to smooth his wrinkled clothes.
Halley’s head snapped in Song’s direction. “What?” she barked. A twisting sensation pierced her gut, and she blinked hard before staring at him with laser focus. “She was reassigned? Who is her replacement?”
Song’s eyes widened as if he knew more. “Umm...”
Halley snatched her phone out of her pocket to go through her emails from the chief. Surely someone would have told her that her team assignments changed. Sure enough, Chief Henry had emailed her while they were in the air on their Colorado-bound flight from Andrews Air Force Base, outside DC. She scanned the email, inhaling a sharp breath when her eyes fell on the last name she wanted to see. Griffin Harper.
Seeing the murderous glint in her dark eyes, Song retreated to the SUV as Halley’s cell rang. Shit, it’s the boss. “Sir,” she answered on the first ring, her tone devoid of emotion.
“Oakes, I sent you an updated roster while you were in the air.” The chief’s no-nonsense tone was enough for Halley to understand that there would be no talking her way out of these last-minute reassignments. She assumed he came out of the womb scowling.
“Yes, sir, I saw the update.” Her mouth formed a straight line. Protesting would just piss off the chief, and Halley was trying her hardest to advance in her career at NASA—something she’d been focused on since she started out as a summer intern in grad school. It had taken a decade to rise through the ranks and gain the trust of her superiors, first by becoming a specialist, and finally having “senior” attached to her title. Halley had built a reputation of reliability and strong leadership, and she could feel that she was right on the brink of advancement yet again. She could taste it. Complaining about assignments wasn’t something that many comms specialists could get away with while still being assigned to lead missions.
Over the years, Halley had become the chief’s go-to specialist on the team; he relied on her efficiency and quick thinking. He especially liked that she didn’t bombard him with questions on how to get things done. Her initiative was a constant topic whenever he had to dress down a slacker in their unit. There were colleagues who teased her for being a favorite, but no one could deny Halley’s work ethic.
“This won’t be a problem, will it, Oakes?” Usually, Halley’s commanding officer wouldn’t have any knowledge of her personal relationships, but she and Griff had had a huge blowout argument in the mess hall the last time they saw each other—right after he’d sent the text that ended their relationship. She’d gone after him to give him a piece of her mind, and when he had nothing to say in response, she blew up. The chief and several other senior officials were present. Over a year had passed, but Halley had never shaken her frustration at being led on by a man who promised the world when he ultimately wasn’t ready for an actual commitment or even to communicate his feelings like an adult. Because of her outburst in front of the senior team, her advancement had slowed, as if the higher-ups were waiting to see if she would rally or unravel altogether.
“Not at all, sir. We will conduct ourselves professionally and make sure that the system is installed flawlessly.” Halley stood at attention, her voice firm, even though her insides were swirling.
“Good. Has Song arrived?” Of course, he has to check up on his nephew.
Sweat began to gather across Hal
“Good.” His voice softened slightly, as if he’d stepped away from the earshot of others. He was constantly surrounded by a team of people monitoring any number of projects and emergencies. “Now listen. Song looks up to you, and he could benefit from your guidance, Oakes. Make sure that this mission goes off without a hitch, yes?” The firmness of his tone indicated there was only one right answer. Being on the chief’s bad side could mean a six-month detail in a place no one wanted to go.
“Yes, sir. We won’t let you down, sir.” The phone disconnected, and Halley bit her lip, wondering whether she would be able to keep her promise. Her shoulders rounded slightly as she fell deep into thought. The chief’s nephew had already shared that he planned to sneak contraband into the station, and Halley’s emotionally unavailable ex was on his way to distract her and bring back all of the feelings that she never processed. She sucked her teeth, brooding over the inevitable. Sensing movement behind her, Halley’s back snapped straight, and she waited for the figure to identify itself. His smell-good cologne gave him away first.
“Hi, Halley,” the voice behind her rumbled with a gravelly bass tone that reverberated at her very core. “Been a long time.” That voice used to be enough to curl her toes, but Halley had built up a wall that turned her eyes hard and her face to stone. She no longer lit up when he spoke to her; instead, her senses dulled and she carried a constant air of cynicism.
Halley turned, rolling her shoulder blades down her back—narrowing her gaze to lock eyes with the one who decided he wasn’t ready to be with her. He’d pulled his aviators down enough for her to get a glimpse of his thick, curly lashes and arresting stare. His dark hooded eyes trailed from hers to survey her from head to toe, eliciting a scowl from the recipient of his assessment. She took in his black tactical garb that stretched tight against his muscular chest, the dark brown skin of his arms crossing in front of him brandishing black ink tattoos, and that goofy look he made when he found her amusing. “Griff.”
His lips twitched at the corners, threatening to curve, and she prayed that he wouldn’t smile as he slid his sunglasses back up his nose to shield his eyes from her scrutiny. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead and temples, his close-cut beard framed that strong, flexing jaw that Halley tried to forget. He looked good—better than the last time she saw him. He must have filled out some while on assignment abroad. A former marine, Griffin was a part of NASA’s protective services team, and he traveled with several of the communications specialists as they assisted different countries with the implementation of the ADGWS—the Aerial Debris Global Warning System.
A couple of years ago, this program wasn’t even on anyone’s radar—it wasn’t until a strange series of meteor showers slammed into a bunch of space junk in the Earth’s atmosphere that anyone thought about creating a notification system that would alert people on the ground to take cover. Most of the meteor showers hit old decommissioned satellites or other junk that burned up in the atmosphere—the visuals looked like comets and shooting stars but were far too close for comfort. People began to believe some form of apocalypse was coming—that burning projectiles in the sky signified the end of times—but scientists continued to present data that explained the phenomenon, assuring people that they could track potential dangers and signal when true danger was imminent. However, back then they didn’t have a universal means of transmitting a warning.
Even then, the idea wasn’t adopted as policy by global leaders until a fiery chunk of an almost disintegrated old space station crossed the flight path of a transatlantic plane just seconds before a catastrophic impact would have landed hundreds of passengers in the middle of the ocean. Citizens of the world began to protest, demanding that they be warned to seek shelter if something invading the airspace threatened to reach the ground—or worse—could collide with something else that threatened harm upon impact with one hundred percent certainty. Governments began to hold summits to come up with a worldwide plan that would be recognizable by all inhabitants—no matter their country of origin.
Eventually, world leaders agreed that they would each install an alert system, and NASA teamed with other space agencies around the globe to lead the charge in implementing the siren systems. Deaf and hard of hearing citizens were provided with all-hazard radios, which could emit visual and vibrating alerts. News agencies worked with local governments to come up with approved language to transmit should the sirens be employed. The space center teams strategized hundreds of scenarios so that countries could assemble local guidance. Halley had been all over Asia and the Middle East. She’d heard that Griff was assigned to details with teams in Central and South America. She never expected to see him at the home installation—especially not even more burly and chiseled than before. Yet there he was, staring her down with a boyish half smirk on his face like he hadn’t broken her heart just last year.
He removed his mirrored aviator sunglasses, those dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that we came up with the idea for a universal alert system and we’re the last ones to install it?”
“No, I think that we created some goodwill in prioritizing other countries that needed help with implementation. We could have used other forms of PSAs to get the job done if something was on course over the US.” Her tone held a twinge of annoyance. He knew all of this, so why was he asking this question? He probably just wants me to talk to him. She had zero intention of falling for any of his antics on this trip.
He shrugged, observing her openly. His gaze made a slow descent over her body once more—the curves he used to ache for—before traveling back up to meet her lash-lined glare. His playful, boyish smile made her stomach do backflips, but she narrowed her gaze, aware of two sets of eyes watching through the blacked-out windows of their transport vehicle.
“Listen, Griffin Harper, I don’t know what’s running through your mind right now, but I am going to remind you just once that I have point on this mission. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you unless it has to do with your protection detail for this team. Do anything to piss me off, Griff, and I swear I’ll make good on the promise I made the last time you saw me.”
His smile simmered to an amused curl of his lips. “The one where you promised you’d shove your foot up my ass?”
She batted her lashes sweetly. “Good. You remembered.” She tossed the keys in his direction and moved toward the passenger door of the SUV. “Now load up. I want to be there and set up well before sundown. Jake Glenn, Willy Song—eyes front if you know what’s good for you,” she snapped, climbing into the truck.
“Yes, ma’am,” Griff whispered, his thick lips curving into a tight-lipped smile. He grabbed his bag from the ground and proceeded to load it into the trunk.
* * *
Two hours and thirty-six minutes. Halley squinted at her phone, hoping the estimated time of arrival on her GPS would change to a shorter length of time. When it didn’t, she sighed, leaning back against her seat, her eyes squeezed shut. The air conditioning pushed curly wisps of her hair out of her face and made her shiver—the only reprieve from the dry heat rising outside the barrier of her window. Halley hummed to herself, welcoming the cool air, trying to drown out the sounds around her.
“Not a bad idea to recharge while you have the time,” Griff observed, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them.
Halley opened one eye and turned to focus it on the driver, his eyes shielded by his sunglasses. “You really think I can sleep with Song making all of that noise?”
Griffin cracked a smile. “I would think that with all the travel we do on these details, you’d get used to sleeping with a little noise in the background.”
“A little noise” was an understatement. They didn’t bother playing the radio because none of the team would be able to hear the music. In the back row, Song sat with his back against the arm rest and his feet propped up on the seat. His head leaned against the darkened window, his mouth agape as he snored loudly. Every inhale rumbled like a grating motor struggling to start. In the middle row, Jake sat with noise-canceling headphones and his head against the headrest, but his fidgeting and cutting scowls toward the back indicated he still heard Song’s throaty grumbling clearly.
