Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
I immediately squeeze my eyes shut as I white-knuckle the rim of the basket.
I sense the camera operator moving around me and I wonder which angle of me hyperventilating makes me the most likable.
After what I’m pretty sure is eighty-seven hours, he finally says, “Okay, I got it.” I immediately turn and reach for Andrew, grabbing him and pulling myself toward him.
My face is buried in his very hard chest, and I feel his arms go around me protectively. It feels good. And surprisingly not weird, considering that a couple days ago I really disliked him.
There’s another quick burst of fire and the balloon lifts higher. I tighten my grip around his waist and he rubs my back again, saying, “I’ve got you. You’re missing the view, though. That’s the best part.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, inhaling his cologne and snuggling in closer, this time not for safety. He laughs, and I swear I feel him flex his biceps underneath me.
I hate pulling myself away from the comfort of him, but I lift my head to quickly peek over his shoulder to see what all the fuss is about.
I immediately gasp from both fear and wonder.
We’re gently floating over rolling hills and green vineyards.
The rugged Santa Monica Mountains are to my right, and the Pacific Ocean is sparkling directly in front of us. “Wow” is all I can say.
Andrew smiles. “How’s this?” He gently turns me around so I’m facing out toward the rim of the basket. His arms are still strong around my waist, and my back is firmly against his front. We’re at least a foot from the edge, so I can’t see straight down, which is helping.
I lean back into him and place my arms on top of his. Being wrapped in him feels safe. And as my breathing starts to regulate, I realize being held tightly like this by Andrew makes me feel other things too.
“Look, there’s the mansion,” Andrew says, pointing to a giant estate that’s now in the distance behind us. “You can barely see the shack.”
“And yet I can still feel the kink in my neck from sleeping on the floor.” I feel Andrew vibrate with laughter behind me.
As if I need a reminder of how close our bodies are.
“Is that Sandstone Peak?” I ask to distract myself from racy thoughts that have no business being considered at one thousand feet above sea level.
I gesture toward a mountaintop with my head, because his arms are quickly becoming my new favorite belt and I refuse to let go of them.
“Yep. I go mountain biking there sometimes.”
“You go mountain biking?” I say, surprised. “In suit pants?”
He laughs. “No, but I’ve been known to roll up my sleeves on occasion,” he says seductively.
“I have a sudden interest in mountain biking,” I answer flirtatiously.
I feel him smiling in response. “I also hike and camp and surf.” He shrugs. “I like nature.”
“Me too. Preferably from the ground.” But after I look out at the ocean for a while, I have to admit, “It’s actually kind of peaceful up here. You know, when you’re not calculating the velocity with which you’d hit the ground.”
“Or the likelihood of catching fire in the air,” Andrew teases back.
“Fuck, I wasn’t calculating that, but now that’s literally all I’ll be able to think about.”
He laughs behind me. “Sorry.”
“You guys know I’m a professional, right?” the hot-air balloon pilot asks.
I laugh and say, “Sorry! It’s not you, it’s me!” Which makes Andrew rumble with laughter again. He has a good laugh. It’s deep and easy, and it warms me almost as much as his embrace.
We enjoy the view in a comfortable silence for a while. Even the abrupt fire-breathing dragon sound of the burner doesn’t make me jump anymore. If I survive this, it might just be the best one-on-none date I’ve ever been on.
“Okay, let me get a shot of you overcoming your fear,” Bruce says, as he picks up the camera again. “Can you step closer to the edge?”
“Nope.”
“Whatever,” he says and begins filming. Andrew gently lets me go and moves away so he’s not in the frame. I go back to looking out at the mountains framing the Pacific and the rocky coastline. It’s less enjoyable without Andrew’s expensively masculine scent cocooning me.
But then I think about what Bruce just said; I am overcoming my fear, and I can’t help but smile as he gets the shot of me bravely looking out into the distance.
After Bruce lowers the camera, I don’t even have to scramble back to Andrew before he wraps me in his arms again.
I know some people consider hot-air balloon rides romantic.
Mostly people who don’t have a healthy fear of death, but I’m starting to get it.
I look up at Andrew, and he gives me a shy smile, which may just be the most endearing facial expression I have ever seen.
I snuggle in closer as the balloon operator points to a large open field next to a vineyard. “That’s where we’re touching down.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly panicked. “Is there a problem?”
The operator shakes his head. “That’s where they said to take you.”
As we get closer to the ground, I see a picnic blanket set up with a lavish spread.
Before I can make out what kind of food there is, my brain registers that the Earth is getting closer and closer.
I start to get dizzy. Andrew must see it in my eyes because he quickly turns me back in toward his chest and I close my eyes.
I hold my breath until we bump the ground gently and bounce a few times before we come to a stop. Oh, thank Darwin!
I resist the urge to kiss the ground. Or Andrew. Instead, I turn to the balloon operator. “Thank you for not killing us.”
He just says, “You have three hours to yourselves, then we head back.”
And just like that my nerves go haywire again. I was so distracted with potentially dying that I hadn’t thought about what would happen if we made it to land safely. But now my pulse is racing for a new reason—I’m about to be on a date with Andrew.