Page 41 of Hot Rucking Canadian

Hence coaxing him into taking a fourteen-hour flight from Vancouver to Auckland, and another quick hop to Christchurch. A trip I did at least twice a year.

He let out a long breath. “You’re sure this is safe?”

“Cross my heart.”

He arched an eyebrow. “The rest of that saying ishope to die.”

“Uh…huh.”

“Yeah. Nothing to say about that, eh?”

“Nope. Silence is the better part of virtue. Or some shit like that.”

We finished taxiing, and the engines roared.

Travis gripped my hand.

Next thing I knew, we were hurtling down the runway.

I loved this. The aerodynamics involved in flight. The complexity of the machine we were in. That we were essentially a tin can flying through the air at incomprehensible speeds.

Being in the air was my happy place.

Fourteen hours later, I could admit it hadn’t been poor Travis’s.

We’d encountered a lot of turbulence.

He’d been violently ill. To the point the nice lady on the aisle traded her seat for mine, I took the middle seat, and Travis sat on the end. Fortunately we were close to the bathroom. A couple of times, he needed the airsickness bags.

I’d felt incredibly guilty and, as we waited for our flight to Christchurch, I seriously contemplated renting a car and driving us the sixteen hours. But that wouldn’t be any better, and I wanted Nana’s whitebait so badly, my saliva glands were working overtime.

We’d won our last three games. Although my shoulder was sore from a knee to it—hello, ouch—I was doing okay. Even survived the cramped quarters of the flight.

Which gave me an idea.

I headed over to the gate agent and gave her my most winsome smile. “Uh, I don’t suppose you have room in first class, do you?”

She checked her screen. “Two. Last-minute cancellation. We’re about to see if someone wants to pay to upgrade.”

I pulled out my credit card. “My boyfriend was sick all the way from Canada. His first flight. He doesn’t even want to get on the plane.”

She gently pushed the credit card back. “Well, for the good of the other passengers, he should be seated as close to the washroom as I can get him.” She snagged my boarding pass. “I hope someday someone does this for my brother and his boyfriend.”

“How old?”

“Seventeen and completely smitten. They play rugby together.”

“Oh, I play.”

She eyed me. “Professionally?”

“Yes. In Vancouver.”

“The Orcas?”

I blinked.

She grinned. “Grew up in a rugby household. If there’s a team whose name I don’t know, it’s because I’ve forgotten.”

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