32. Devon

Devon

Lola's hands are holding on to the edge of the hot air balloon basket so tightly that I'm worried she might accidentally pull part of it off. When I look at her, she tries—unsuccessfully—to school her face into an expression of nonchalance, but I can see the very real fear that's coursing underneath, and I feel like an absolute ass.

I thought her fear of heights was like my fear of spiders—a little irrational, but something I'm able to overcome. I hate seeing them crawling around, but I can get a shoe and take one out when it comes down to it.

But Lola up here is a whole different thing. Looking at her, I can see her battling to keep control over herself, and every once in a while, she glances back at the little pole in the center of the balloon as though she wants to back up and wrap her arms around it.

When I see her like this, squeezing her eyes shut when she thinks I'm not looking, I feel bad about bringing her up here. Then I glance down and remember she's wearing a Colorado Avalanche jersey, and some of that empathy disappears.

She starts to take quick little breaths, her fingers tightening even more, and I move behind her, setting my hand over hers. My hand is warm, but hers is freezing from the exposure to the air up here. It's early April in Denver, and today is unseasonably warm, but it's still pretty cold up in the air. I wish I had told her to bring a sweater, but knowing her, she would have purchased an Avalanche sweater just to fuck with me.

"Hey," I say, trying to use my most soothing voice. "Lola, it's going to be just fine, right?"

"Phobias aren't rational," she mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut. "God, was I so obvious? I thought I was acting normal."

"I mean, you're pretty weird normally, so it's not that far off," I say, and she throws me a scathing look over her shoulder. "But, yes, anyone with eyes can see you're terrified right now."

"Well," she breathes, "that's what you wanted, right? For me to hurl in front of ol' Bobby here?" Lola jerks her head in the direction of our balloon host, who's busy steering and monitoring the mechanics.

"No," I say, my stomach sinking at the thought. "I wanted you to bow out, but you're too fucking stubborn."

"Just wait, Chambers," she says, eyeing me darkly, "for my date, we're swimming with sharks! We're eating the spiciest foods on the planet. Cave diving! Underwear modeling!"

"Those things sound like they would suck more for you than for me," I chuckle, placing my other hand over hers, trying to warm it up. She shivers against my chest, and I swallow, trying to focus on what's happening right now and not the way it feels to have her pressed against me.

A moment of silence passes, and I try to think of something I can say to help calm her down.

"If you were going to write this scene," I start, clearing my throat and gently tugging her hand away from its death grip so I can lace our fingers together, "how would you do it?"

She remains quiet for so long that I start to think she's not going to answer me, but then she says, so quietly that I almost don't hear it, "I would start with the mountains."

"With the mountains?"

"They're so beautiful," she murmurs, and I feel her body relax slightly. "In a romantic scene, it's always good to point out elements of beauty. It sets the vibe and helps the reader feel a bit more like the characters and also connect to their surroundings."

"You think the mountains are good for romance?"

"Yes," she laughs, twisting a bit to look at me, and I notice her other hand loosen from the edge of the basket. "Mountains, ocean, even a sea of corn. Putting your characters in beautiful places makes it that much easier to convince the reader they're falling in love."

"I've never thought about that before," I admit, which makes her laugh again.

"Well," she says, "you're not exactly a romance expert, are you?"

"Not yet," I reply, "but I started reading Return of the Blue Ridge Aliens, so I'm pretty sure I'm getting there."

Lola laughs again, and I feel her body release a little bit more tension. Together, we start to point out things passing by beneath us. The guide, sensing Lola's newfound calm, gives some interesting information about the hot air balloon and the things we're passing by below.

When the balloon starts its descent back to the ground, Lola actually sounds disappointed, as though she wishes we could have had more time in the air. Our guide lands the balloon expertly, and I thank him before jogging to catch up with Lola, who's walking quickly toward the car.

"Lola!" I shout, stopping when she stops a foot away from the car. I come around to her front, worried she might be having a breakdown, but she's smiling to herself and looking down at the ground with wide eyes.

"I did it," she whispers, her face lighting up with pure joy. "Devon! I did it! I went up in that balloon!"

"You did!" I laugh, letting out an oof when she launches herself into my arms. I close them around her without thinking, lifting her up off the ground and spinning her around. We're both laughing, and she's so close to me, pressed against me, that I can smell her perfume, shampoo, and everything that comes together to create her scent.

And then she reaches up and kisses me.

I respond immediately, walking her back against the side of the car, my hands desperate to feel her, to see what she's like under this fucking Avalanche shirt. To my shock, she's not wearing a bra, so when I reach my hand up, my thumb grazes her nipple, and she groans into my mouth.

My hands graze over her back before wandering down to the hem of her skirt. I cup her ass, getting ready to lift her up so she can wrap her legs around me when, suddenly, she pulls away, breathing hard and staring up at me with an open mouth.

"Oh my god," she gasps, stepping away when I reach for her again, my body hungry for her touch. "I'm so sorry, Devon, I don't—"

"Sorry?" I growl, stepping toward her and watching her step away again. This is all I've been able to think about since the last time I had her in my bed, and she's apologizing? "What the hell are you sorry for?"

"The contract," she breathes, shaking her head and bringing her hand to her mouth. "We can't be doing this. Fuck, I am so sorry. If anyone saw us, you could lose your deal with the Vipers."

"It doesn't matter," I mutter, frowning at her as she steps away from me again.

"It does matter," she says insistently, shaking her head again. "I know how much you care about it. I'm sorry I did anything to jeopardize the youth camp."

I pause as her words sink in. If anyone had seen me with Lola pressed up against the side of the car and taken a picture of us like that, the PR team would have seen it. They would have known we broke the contract, and both of us would lose the deals we struck.

Lola could lose her book deal, and I could sacrifice the youth camp I've been working so hard to make a reality.

"No," I say, scrubbing a hand over my face and turning away from her. "You're right. Shit, I'm sorry, too, Lola. I didn't even think about it."

"I kissed you," she says, "I—"

"Let's just move on, okay?" I say, knowing damn well I could have pulled away from her, but I chose not to. "We don't have to go around in circles apologizing for what happened."

She nods, and we stand there for a moment, staring at each other, breathing hard. I can't stop thinking about how she doesn't have a bra on under that shirt, that all it would take for me to—

I get in the car and turn up the music to try and drown out all the contract-breaking thoughts I have the entire way back to the hotel.