Page 31 of Not the Puck Bunny

I looked over the empty carriages before leading her to the green one. It was several shades brighter than anything I'd seen her wear, but it seemed to suit her.

She didn't say anything as she followed me in and settled down on the seat beside me.

I reached up to pull down the safety bar before the attendant locked it in place.

“Last chance if you want to get off,” I said. Again with a deliberate choice of words.

“Scared?” she teased. Was it my imagination, or did her eyes darken at this innuendo?

“Of rollercoasters? No way.” Of having her tear my heart out of my chest and throw it into the waves? Maybe. Of an amusement ride? No.

“Then why are your knuckles white?” She nodded down at the grip of my fingers on the safety bar.

I loosened them and rolled my back against the seat. “Couldn't be more comfortable. If I had a pillow, I'd fall asleep here.”

She started to laugh, but the wind dragged it away as the carriage lurched forward and began its ascent up the first incline in the track.

Slowly, like it was dragging out the moment to increase the tension, the carriage chugged upward. The closer it got to the top, the faster my heart raced. The adrenaline rushed like before every game. The anticipation of what was to come.

“Hold on tight,” I said when we reached the top. With a surge of speed, we thundered down the other side.

She let out a squeal of laughter which continued until we reached the next incline and slowed again.

“I should have done this sooner,” she said. “I need to take more chances.”

She wasn't just referring to this. Whatever led to her sitting on that bench, staring out at the ocean was part of something much bigger. Something I wanted her to be comfortable enough to confide in me. If not today, then someday.

What was I thinking? Someday? I hardly knew her, and we got off to a rocky start, but the more I saw, the more I wanted to see. Her mind. Her body. Everything.

I wanted to know all of her, the good and bad. And I wanted to share the parts of myself with her that I didn't share with anyone else.

I wasn't scared of rollercoasters, but I was scared of letting people in. I wanted to explain all of that to her. To let her know that my initial reaction to her was a reflex I'd developed to protect myself from being hurt. A reflex I wanted to put behind me.

“Everyone needs to take more chances.” I glanced over at her.

Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, lips parted. Her hair whipped all around her face, but foronce she didn't push it away. She was enjoying herself too much to care.

She was so incredibly gorgeous I forgot where I was for a few moments. Right until the carriage reached the top and plunged down another steep descent.

A shout of surprise and excitement roared out of me, chased by another laugh from her.

I could have listened to her laugh all day. I'd never heard an uninhibited sound that made my balls want to jump right out of my lap. I wanted to make her laugh, to know she was happy, and living in and loving the moment.

This was why I never rode the rollercoaster before. It wouldn't have been the same if I shared it with anyone else. Not with my friends. Not with another woman.

No, this moment was for us. For Andi and me. As long as I lived, I'd remember this. The moment we both decided to take a chance and do something daring. Something neither of us had done before. Side by side, we'd taken a leap, and we were having the time of our lives.

It might only happen once, but it might also be the beginning of many. For now, I was content to enjoy the right here, right now. With her.

The carriage reached a third incline and chugged its way up to the top. It puttered along a flat section of track that reached out over the ocean. We couldn't have been more than twenty feet up in the air, but I felt like I was in the sky. Soaring through the clouds with a stunning redhead pressed up next to me.

The carriage wound around the track, towards the deepest dip on the whole ride.

I held my breath in anticipation.

I went on holding it when the carriage stopped right on the edge of the decline. The nose couldn't have been more than an inch or two from the downward drop. The wind whipped up around us. Silence fell, broken by the sound of voices from far below, and the crash of the waves against the posts of the pier.

When I expected a sudden plunge down, nothing came.

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