Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
MAIA
My stomach was sick as we approached the hot air balloon, and it wasn’t nerves about the flight.
Before this morning, I’d been looking forward to it.
I’d never been up in a hot air balloon before.
Will and I had the opportunity when we were in Barcelona last year, but Will said he was pretty sure I’d hate the experience, so we didn’t bother.
Yet another unsubstantiated comment I’d swept under the rug.
I glanced up from beneath my lashes at Baird who hadn’t looked at me since I’d followed him out of the trailer. Between the murmurs and worried glances, I knew the team could sense we were at odds with each other.
What I was just beginning to realize was how much I detested being at odds with Baird.
It was confusing to find myself arguing with him when I never argued with Will about anything, and yet I felt wretched at the very thought of Baird hating me.
It took a lot to make Baird dislike anyone. However, I had been judgmental and untrusting and self-involved.
We were mic’d up, so they could hear us clearly during filming. Mine was taped onto my back, causing a pronounced bulge, so our cameraman had been informed to try to avoid filming me from behind. Baird’s was more concealed under his shirt.
The low roar of the propane burner drowned out the rushing of blood in my ears as we stopped before the balloon.
“This is Nicholas, your pilot.” Gail gestured to an attractive dark-haired man around my age. “Nicholas, these are our lovebirds, Maia and Baird.”
Nicholas gave us a chin lift. “Nice to meet you. Use the steps to climb aboard.”
He pointed to barely there footholds attached to the basket he was already standing inside.
“Ladies first,” Baird said without meeting my eyes.
I put my foot in the first hold, but I was shaking so hard, I slipped.
“Easy.” I felt his familiar strong hands on my waist. “I’ve got you.”
That was Baird. Being kind even when he was angry with me.
The problem came in trying to hike my leg over the basket in this dress.
I’d stupidly assumed there would be a door on the basket when I’d chosen my outfit.
I was about to hike up my dress when I remembered something.
I glanced over at the crew, who already had a camera in my face. “Can you not film this part, please?”
The cameraman, Mike, just said, “I have to film everything.”
“She said no.” Baird glowered at Mike.
Mike shrugged. “I take my orders from my boss.”
The air turned menacing as Baird gruffly asked, “Is that what you think?” Then he covered the camera lens with his big hand. “No look-y without permission-y.”
The words were playful; his tone was not.
Mike swallowed nervously as he lowered the camera.
I reluctantly hiked my dress up as far as I could without being indecent and tried to swing my legs over without flashing anyone. But it was proving impossible. I could feel my cheeks burning as I realized this and lowered my leg.
“My.”
I looked up to find Baird standing beside me, his expression blank.
“Come down.” He gestured for me to come off the footholds.
I did it without thinking.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, I hurried to lower my dress back into place. Then Baird bent and lifted me into his arms like a groom with his bride. I let out a little squeak of surprise as he lifted me up and over into the basket. I grasped onto the sides for purchase as he released me.
He was mad at me, but he saw me struggling and did something to help.
Reeling, I hadn’t quite gotten my emotional footing when the basket jolted again as Baird bounded inside with an athletic ease as impressive as him lifting me into it.
Nicholas steadied me, his hands on my waist, and warning flashed in Baird’s eyes.
Nicholas released me like the propane burner wasn’t the only thing on fire.
It was louder than I expected inside the basket.
“Here’s the script!” The director, Bruno, suddenly appeared outside the basket, holding out a piece of paper to us. “Once you’re up there and you see the announcement, Mike will film this introduction piece.”
I was shaking so badly, the paper trembled. Baird gently took it from me, pressing his side into mine as we looked it over. It was a robotic script where we introduced ourselves, who we were, our ages, and what we did for a living.
Baird shoved it back at Bruno. “We can do it without a script.”
“You don’t need to because you have a script.”
“Let me rephrase—we’re not using your crappy script. We’re going to sound like ourselves up there or we get out of the basket.”
I gaped at Baird.
Lately, he was surprising me at every turn.
Who knew buried beneath his charm and easygoing nature was a stubborn mule with a spine of steel?
It was more than kind of hot.
And he hated me.
Bruno snatched the script back. “Just try not to veer too far away from it.”
At that, we stood back to let Mike climb aboard.
“Ready?” Nicholas asked.
After we’d all nodded our agreement, I latched onto a corner of the basket, my stomach flipping over as the grounds team untied the anchors and we floated steadily upward.
Despite the turmoil of emotions roiling inside me, I couldn’t help but delight in the sensation of watching the ground fall farther and farther away.
It was a slow ascent entirely different from any other experience I’d had flying.
The higher we climbed, the clearer the Edinburgh skyline became in the northerly distance.
I was aware of Nicholas talking, but I wasn’t processing anything. I was too busy enjoying the serene experience as the air gently blew through my hair.
A tap on my shoulder finally brought me out of my reverie.
Mike looked impatient. “Can you stand with your fiancé so I can film you two enjoying this experience … together?”
Oh crap.
I looked over at the other side of the balloon where Baird stood, arms crossed over his chest, stance wide, absolutely towering over everyone else in the balloon as he stared with uncharacteristic broodiness out at the world.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t comfortable moving around the basket when it was in flight. The movement triggered a bout of vertigo.
“Oh God.” I clambered for one of the roped corners and sucked in a breath, squeezing my eyes closed.
“My.”
I opened my eyes to find Baird in front of me, scouring my face in concern. “You all right?”
I relaxed at his gentle tone. “I’m fine. Until I move, apparently.” I shot a look behind him at Mike. “They want us standing together. Enjoying it together.”
“Okay. Why don’t you turn to look out? I’ll stand behind you.”
I did that and found my equilibrium again. Until Baird’s heat hit my back as he pressed his body to mine. He leaned his hand on the edge of the basket, our fingers touching, while he held on to the rope, just above where I held it.
I attempted to relax, but I was hyperaware of his hard chest pressing into me.
We both knew that we couldn’t say anything right now that would give away our ploy or our earlier argument, since everyone could hear everything we said.
Something in the distance on the ground thankfully distracted me from my friend’s hot proximity. “Look!” I pointed toward what was starting to become clearer, laid out on a field.
Sure enough, drone cameras circled the area. Below us, spelled out across two fields using a substantial number of plates, vases, and other items from Pennington’s homeware department, were the words: “We’re Engaged! Maia MacLeod Said Yes to Baird McMillan!”
“That’s cool,” Baird murmured against my temple, leaning further into me until I could barely breathe. Surrounded by his heat and the delicious scent of his aftershave rendered me speechless for a few seconds.
“Right, let’s do this,” Mike announced loudly. “This is where you turn to the camera and introduce yourselves. Then, Baird, we’ll get one of you kissing the bride-to-be.”
At least the moment was being recorded, and I could look back on it to see what actually happened. Because in the moment, I was in an utter daze as Baird turned us to the camera, his arm around my waist, holding me tight to his side as if holding me up.
Of course, Baird had dealt with the media for years, so he was able to switch off the tension between us and switch on his affable, affectionate persona.
I was aware of him introducing himself and then clasping my hand tight to his chest as I blurted out who I was and how I worked for Pennington’s as a fashion buyer.
Then, Baird was kissing me.
Not the lip brush from before.
While it was PC for the camera (no tongue), he kissed me with such conviction, I felt it everywhere. My skin was on fire as he dipped me over his arm to kiss me even harder. My fingers curled into his shirt, my legs trembling, and this time not from vertigo.
This was no sloppy boy-man kiss.
This was the most perfect kiss anyone had ever given me. And the friction of his short beard against my chin was so delicious, I was pretty sure I’d never been more turned on.
Once he released me, he continued to stare at my mouth.
I gaped up at him, wishing he’d kiss me again, but this time with tongue.
“Perfect!” Mike yelled, making me jolt.
I straightened, wobbling with the movement of the balloon, and Baird’s hold around my waist tightened. I wondered if he read my confusion for what it was.
My cheeks blazed at the thought.
“We can head back down now,” Mike told Nicholas. Then he winked at us. “Nice work, you two. Glad to see you got over whatever lover’s tiff that was before we got on here.”
I stiffened at the reminder Baird was mad at me.
The renewed tension thrumming through Baird’s body told me he’d remembered he was pissed off at me too.
Just like that, my mood plummeted faster than the balloon as it descended toward the ground.