Chapter Twenty-One

ERIN

Somehow, I managed to keep my hands off Nash for the rest of the night. Then again, I was pretty wiped out — in good ways and bad. Good was the blissful exhaustion that came from the best sex of my life. Bad was my constant worry about Harlon. Being with Nash had helped drive that out of my mind for a while, but the moment my alarm rang—

I jerked upright, picturing the worst.

I whacked the alarm off, then sank back down. No Harlon. Whew. Right now, all I had to face was work.

Nash was asleep, but his arms were still looped around me. He smelled as good as ever — like pines and a fresh breeze. I stroked his arm, staring off into the darkness for a while, thinking. Would this change things between us? Did I want it to?

The digits on my clock blinked, changing to three forty-six. I gave myself until three fifty, then quietly slipped out of bed and looked at Nash.

His arms protected the space I’d vacated, and he looked uncharacteristically carefree. A little younger, a little happier. A lot calmer.

A good look, especially with the background being my bed.

My heart panged. I really wouldn’t mind keeping things that way.

I felt my way down the ladder, found my robe, and made coffee for two in the dark. Then I climbed to the top rung and tapped on Nash’s leg.

“Nash. Time to get up.”

He pulled his leg away and tightened his arms around my empty space.

My heart warmed, and I wished I could let him sleep. But it really was time to get going.

“Nash…”

When his arms closed over nothing, he stirred, then shot upright, fists balled.

I gave him a wave to say, I’m right here, everything is okay, and yes, we really did have raging sex last night. I loved it, by the way.

Well, one little wave might not have captured all that, but he got the drift. His body relaxed, and his eyes sparkled at me. Then he rubbed his face, still drowsy.

“Coming.”

Our clothes were strewn all over the floor, which meant that any minute now, six feet of naked, rippled man-flesh would step into view. I licked my lips, imaging that. Then I blushed, because I didn’t have to imagine it. Not now that I’d seen — and kissed and touched — just about every inch of him.

Still, my heart did a little cha-cha when he came down.

Heat shot to my cheeks, and after five spellbound seconds of gazing into his eyes, I avoided the inevitable awkwardness of a morning-after by pecking his lips — then racing to the bathroom.

“Just taking a quick shower…”

I took my coffee with me, chugging half down before setting it on the bathroom sink. The shower, as usual, ran cold for a painfully long time before going lukewarm. But, heck. Maybe a cold shower was just what I needed to focus on the day ahead.

The door creaked, and the shower curtain billowed outward. It was translucent but printed with enough constellations to distract the eye. Well, most of the time. Now, my eyes went right to Nash’s…um, star attractions.

He set his mug next to mine. “Mind if I join you? Seeing as time is short, I mean.”

Cheap excuse, but a welcome one.

“Sure. Come in,” I said, turning away.

I might have looked and sounded casual, but my heart rate tripled.

The curtain rings rasped over the rod, and the shower heated right up. Not the water. Just the mood.

I passed the bar of soap over my shoulder, then lathered shampoo into my hair.

Nash stepped closer, making water ricochet between my body and his. I held my breath. What would he do? Say? Touch?

Without a word, he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. Then he ran the soap over my back and gently spread the lather with both hands.

My eyelids drooped. God, that felt good. Not at all as awkward as I’d feared, though not as casual as I’d pretended. Natural was a better word, like we were right where we belonged.

Nash did his front after finishing my back, then handed me the soap and turned, waiting. I took a deep breath before scrubbing his back, determined to keep my hands away from the danger zones. Which was hard as hell, given all those tempting contours.

I ran my hands over his shoulders, then his ribs. Too bad he’d washed his front already. But a second rinse never hurt…

I started sneaking my hands forward, then retreated, muttering, “I deserve a goddamn medal.”

“For…?”

I poked the soap into a spot just above his sculpted ass. “For resisting temptation.”

He chuckled. “Smart decision. I’d love a rain check, though.”

I patted his ass. Or rather, I tapped my hand against those buns of steel. I bounced back.

“You got it,” I promised. “A rain check for a shower with more time for…er…dirty thoughts.”

“Promise?”

“Bet your ass, I do.” I patted the area in question.

Nash laughed. “I’ll look forward to that.”

I conditioned my hair in double time and stepped out of the shower, dripping. Nash followed a minute later, and we managed to resist temptation from there on. A damn shame, but duty called. After a quick, companionable breakfast, we set off for work, bouncing down the dirt road in my pickup.

The kind of morning I could get used to.

Without thinking, I reached for Nash’s hand and squeezed. Then I caught myself, wondering how he would react.

Nash brought my hand to his lips, kissed it, then released it with a squeeze.

My heart squeezed too. I could definitely get used to this.

The roads were silent, the town asleep as we early birds went through our usual routine — picking up the company van, hooking up the trailer, meeting Chico and John, and driving out to the launch spot. There, we found Madden and the guests, who stood yawning around a second van they had shuttled over with.

I did a quick head count — then stopped and counted again. Six guests. Only six.

My breath caught. Could this be my chance?

Hustling over to Madden, I practically snatched the clipboard out of his hands. “How many guests today?”

He gave a foul-breathed yawn and scratched his belly.

“Um…seven?”

I counted again, then called them over. A bachelor party, by the looks of it — all big football-player types in their late-twenties.

“Good morning, everyone. Just a quick head count, please.” I tapped a pen over the list as I called out names. “Switalski… Naylor… Richard Smith… Nate Smith…”

One after another, they replied.

“Yo.”

“That’s me.”

“Right here.”

But at the fifth name, they shook their heads.

“Joe’s still in bed,” Richard said.

“Too much partying last night,” Nate snickered.

My heart leaped. “Oh, a cancelation? What a shame.”

Nash grinned. John and Chico gave me two thumbs up.

I went through the rest of the list, worried they might have a late addition — like a cheerleader-type named Mindy one of them had picked up at a bar the previous evening. Hopefully someone other than the groom.

But no. No Mindy. No late additions at all. Just an inflatable sex doll with giant lips shaped for a blow-job — without the blowing, I supposed, unless the doll had an air cartridge wedged between those huge tits.

“Can Lola come?” Switalski asked, patting the doll on the ass.

I shoved the clipboard back at Madden. “Absolutely not.”

Then I hurried over to finish preparing the balloon. The sooner it was ready, the sooner I could get aloft — as copilot, clocking that last hour I needed. Ideally, before their buddy Joe decided to turn up after all.

“Can you drive the van today?” I asked Nash.

He grinned and thumped me on the back. “Absolutely.”

I nearly did a happy dance. For months, I’d dreamed about this day. Hooray!

But now that it was here, my elation was punctured with a thousand concerns. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “We got this.”

Chico and John nodded. “This is your chance, boss!”

It was, and I couldn’t believe it. Still, I hesitated. What if they got lost? What if they misjudged the landing and the basket was damaged? What if—

“Go,” Chico ordered with a huge smile.

I dashed back to Madden. “One less guest means you have space for a copilot.”

“Awesome.” He grinned and called out to Nash. “Your chance to fly, buddy.” Then he turned to the guests with a knowing grin. “Nash flew helicopters for the Marines, you know.”

He managed to make it sound as if he’d been on the front lines with Nash.

The guests looked suitably impressed, but Nash looked ready to kill Madden…unless I got to that rat first.

“I’m flying,” I hissed. “Not him. Got it?”

Madden ignored me. “Aw, come on, Nash.”

The guests called out too. “Yeah, man. We’d love to hear your stories.”

Nash’s eyes flashed, but he handled it well. “Ear infection. I’m grounded for two weeks.”

Total bull — and we wouldn’t ascend high enough for it to matter even if it were true. Madden ought to have known better, but he just shrugged.

“Whatever.”

Punching Madden wouldn’t accomplish anything, but I was sorely tempted. My dream coming true was not whatever . It was everything.

I checked every inch of the balloon, then met with Nash, Chico, and John. After a quick sniff of the wind, I drew a map in the dirt.

“Remember, the forestry road looks like it dead ends after the bridge, but you can get through if you take it slow. But if we end up landing at the Chute Canyon overlook, don’t park the trailer too close to the edge. It’s more crumbly than it looks. And if we land at Haunted Hollow—”

Nash cut me off. “We’ll figure it out. Now, go.” He gave me a gentle shove.

I stopped, tempted to hug him. To kiss him, too, and dance him around. I settled for a huge, happy smile that Nash returned, then ran over to where Madden was delivering the safety brief.

As he spoke in his slow, lazy drawl, I checked the sky. Dawn colors lit the horizon, and everything looked fine. But the hair on the back of my neck tickled, so I sniffed the air again — and frowned. Had that cloud bank been there before?

It wasn’t much — just a dark smudge against the yellow of dawn. But it hadn’t been there minutes earlier.

“Nothing to worry about,” Madden said when I pointed it out. “Besides, look at the forecast.” He tapped a second page on the clipboard. “All clear. See?”

For the second time that morning, I grabbed the clipboard. The forecast called for light, stable winds out of the northeast at five to seven miles per hour. Perfect — on paper.

“Aw, that’s nothing,” John echoed, following my eyes to the horizon.

My eyes agreed, but my gut wouldn’t settle down.

I checked the lines, then tested the burner. Whoosh! Flames shot into the balloon, lifting it off the ground. My heart lifted with it. Any minute now, I would be flying the way I did in my dreams. But that niggling feeling persisted.

I continued filling the balloon with quick bursts, punctuated by concerned looks at the sky.

Still nothing. Nothing to put a finger on anyway.

Nash came up beside me, looking in the same direction.

“What?”

“Just checking,” I bluffed.

Nash studied me so closely, I swear he could read my mind.

I grabbed my phone and checked the more recent airport weather report I’d downloaded on the drive. The fact that it failed to mention that incoming system did little to settle me down.

Nash helped Chico put away the fan, then came over and stood by my side.

“You know what they say about trusting your instincts…” he murmured.

I did. Well, usually. But given the complete lack of evidence…

“Especially your instincts,” he added, dead serious.

I stood a little taller, prouder. But that nagging something refused to back down.

“All right, everyone,” Madden called out. “You can leave your things in the van. We’re about to take off.”

The guests high-fived one another — except Nate, who was peeing in the bushes.

I studied the sky a few seconds longer, then tugged Madden’s sleeve and pointed again. “Look at that.”

He scoffed. “The forecast says—”

“Forecasts can be wrong,” I hissed, keeping my voice down.

Madden snorted. “You scared?”

I nearly stamped my foot — and if it landed on his, all the better.

“No. I’m thinking about safety. I know that cloud is small, but if that’s not in the forecast, the forecast could be wrong about other things too.”

“There’s safety, and there’s paranoia,” Madden said.

“No, there’s safety and more safety,” Nash emphasized. “Seriously. I don’t like the look of that cloud.”

Then Madden looked, but he just shrugged again. “We’ll keep an eye on it.”

“Keep an eye on it or be caught in it?” I barked.

Madden huffed. “Caught in what? That’s tiny.”

It was. But as Pippa liked to say, It’s not the size of the dog in the fight…

When Madden leaned in, I wrinkled my nose at his stale breath.

“If we don’t fly, we’ll have to refund everyone,” he reminded me. “What would Henry say about that?”

“Henry would err on the side of caution. We have a perfect record—”

“ I have a perfect record,” Madden emphasized, cutting me off.

Nash put a hand on my arm before I socked the man.

“I’ve seen the Marines ground all units based on a tiny wind shift,” Nash warned.

I appreciated his help, but I resented the need for it. Why would Madden listen to Nash and not to me?

Okay, easy answer. Because Nash was a man, and Madden was a misogynistic ass.

Madden wavered for a few seconds, and I didn’t know whether to hope or not. Staying grounded ruined my chances of piloting my own flights, but going aloft might prove irresponsible.

Finally, Madden shook his head. “The wind could just as easily shift in our favor.” He shoved the clipboard back at me and climbed into the basket. “It’ll be fine.” Then he raised his voice. “All right, guys. Climb in one at a time, from different sides.”

The hair on the back of my neck signaled Danger. Danger. Don’t go.

“Do you sense anything?” I asked Nash. “Any weather shift, I mean?”

“No, but if you do…”

I warmed at his trust. But, hell. I’d been wrong in the past. What if I was wrong again?

Nash shook his head. “Forget it. Don’t go.”

I weighed my choices. Madden was going to fly, no matter what I did. And if that weather system proved insignificant, I would have forfeited my chance to fly for no reason.

I gritted my teeth, looking between the balloon and the clouds.

Nash’s whisper went all gritty. “What if it’s Harlon?”

I stared at the sky, thinking of the out-of-nowhere wind shifts during Harlon’s flight with Madden. But those were minor, and Harlon was currently out of town, so…

I stepped toward the basket, finally resolute. “Worst case, we’ll keep it short. We could land as close as Deer Mountain if necessary.”

A quick up-and-down trip, I figured, trying to convince myself.

Nash frowned. “I don’t like this.”

Neither did I. But now that I’d convinced myself it would be all right…

“Erin,” Nash warned as I reached for the edge of the basket.

After a last glance back, I climbed in, hoping he would understand.

Madden pulled the burner cord, making the balloon lurch off the ground. “All right, everyone. Get ready for the flight of your life!”