Page 27 of Rush
“Once you get moving, you’ll be fine. Up you get.” He grabbed my hands and tugged me out of my makeshift bed.
I stood before him in nothing but my singlet and knickers, my boobs allnippleyand pressing against the fabric, with my cheeks on fire. It was a little too intimate for my liking, and from the look on his face, a little uncomfortable as well.
I yelped and scurried over to my suitcase, pulling out my silk dressing gown. Throwing it on, I pulled out some clothes for the day and hurried into the bathroom, my cheeks the color of my favorite shade of lipstick. Red Prodige by Clarins.
I power showered—getting in and out in five minutes—dressed, and splashed on some makeup, wondering what it would be like. I’d seen the fleet of hot air balloons over Melbourne for most of my life and wondered what it was all about. It was as simple as booking a place and showing up, but I’d never taken the plunge. I didn’t know if it was complacency or pure laziness, but at least I was doing it now, right? Didn’t people say things were better late than never?
Ryan was waiting for me on the couch, and he rose to his feet when I appeared.
“Taxi is on its way,” he said. “You warm enough?”
“I think so.” I glanced down at my boots, leggings, black singlet, and oversized knit sweater and nodded. Functional and versatile. I could go from chilly Melbourne sunrise to the warmth of the late summer morning, no problems. Totally strategic planning on my behalf.
The taxi only took ten minutes. The city was still fast asleep as we rode through the usually clogged roads, and we arrived at the meeting point—a local hotel—with time to spare.
There were a dozen people waiting in the lobby when we arrived. Mingling, we waited as the other groups showed up, everyone cuddled up in warm jumpers even though the forecast was for sunny skies. Pre-sunrise, it would be freezing when we began floating upward.
I yawned as the pilot went through the safety briefing, hoping Ryan was taking note. My brain hadn’t quite woken up yet, though I was excited to see what it was like to coast above Melbourne and watch the sun climb above the horizon.
Next, we were piled into a minibus—our balloon and basket on a trailer behind us—and ferried across the city to a field beside the port.
The city was sleepy this time of the morning, the roads almost clear aside from a few cars, trucks, and us. Behind us, the skyscrapers twinkled, their lights dimming against the sky, which was becoming fuzzier the closer time crept toward day.
Part of our adventure was assisting in the unfurling and packing up of our ride, so Ryan and I each grasped a section of the balloon and spread it across the field.
“Are you two together?” the pilot asked. “Having a romantic morning?”
I hesitated, my cheeks beginning to feel rather hot. “I…uh…”
“No,” Ryan said, saving my ass. “We’re just friends.”
A wave of nausea wobbled in my stomach, and I turned back to unfurling the balloon. Why was I so disappointed? Sure, Ryan was sweet, sexy as hell, and the most thoughtful man I’d ever known, but we weren’t like that. Were we? Besides, it hadn’t even been a week since Hunter had…you know.
“You okay?” Ryan asked, grasping the edge of the balloon and helping me unroll the last of it.
“Yeah. I’m a bit nervous,” I lied, gesturing to the balloon.
“You’ll be fine, J. I’ll be right beside you.”
That was the problem.
“What if I fall out?”
He laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll catch you.”
I frowned, my insides flipping as he pulled me in for a friendly hug. I was entirely sure he would leap to my rescue like he always had. I’d never paid much attention to it in the past, but why was it making me feel so uneasy now?
We walked back to the basket where the pilot and some of the passengers were assisting in the first stages of inflation. Air was blown into the balloon, and when it was full enough, the burner was fired. It wasn’t quite as loud as I expected, but I still jumped. Ryan chuckled and stood closer, his chest warm against my arm.
Why was I so uneasy? It had everything to do with Ryan being Ryan. The rock, the voice of reason, the sensible one. He’d always played up to the bad boy image back in high school, but I’d seen through it. I don’t think he’d realized I had, but underneath all the provoking, the drinking, the fighting, and the immature bravado, I saw the makings of a good man. I always knew he would do something great with his life.
“Okay, folks. Hop on in,” the pilot declared as the balloon towered over us.
Ryan, being the muscle-bound smartass he was, leapt in making it look easy. When I attempted it, I only made it halfway before my flimsy arms gave way.
“Here,” he said, laughing at my uncoordinated ass. “Let me help.”
Leaning over the edge, he grasped my waist and helped me up over the lip of the basket, and I was in.
