Page 2 of Tinder Embrace
Davis.
Jo's older brother already hated my hot air balloon.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and glared up at me. Astronauts could probably see his frown from space. I had no trouble at only one hundred feet of altitude.
If gravity and my cooling balloon envelope weren't already bringing me down, Davis might have done it from the force of his disapproval alone.
"No burner!" I shouted down. "Uncontrolled landing," I warned.
Any hopes I'd had that Davis would understand my predicament and help faded. His only response was a deeper frown. I didn't think such a thing was possible, but his whole face scrunched in displeasure.
Fork. Me.
He stood there like a centurion, all broad shoulders and scowl in a navy-blue flannel and jeans. His dark hair was swept back from his face, exposing the firm jut of his jaw and chiseled lips.
I drifted closer, as if drawn by the force of his disapproval.
Davis had nothing on tractor beams. His icy blue eyes seemed to be reeling me and Bee-gonia in.
He cupped his hands and yelled, “You can’t land here.”
I closed my eyes. As if I had a choice. Clearly, he hadn’t heard me earlier.
I projected as best I could, forcing more volume from my tight vocal cords, “No choice, Davis.”
He flinched, comprehension dawning. I ignored the petty bit of satisfaction that he wasn’t going to get his way. This wasn’t exactly a battle I wanted to win.
He sprinted from the shadow of the porch, covering the ground between us in record time. His long legs ate up the distance in a flash. I’d never seen the big man move so fast. Had no idea he could. He was so stoic; he gave the impression he was more mountain than man. I’dnever seen him panic, and for a moment, his alarm made me forget my own fears.
A sudden gust of wind hit me from the west, speeding my descent. From the momentary flash of panic on Davis's face, he was aware that even he couldn't control the wind.
Frantically, I yanked on my line, trying to vent before I collided with the stubborn man. At the same time, he yielded to the urge to try to catch me, as if a single person could stop the crushing weight of the balloon.
With burners, I could have mitigated my impact, slowing myself, but the combination of his attempts to catch me and the ground wind cast me into him. Davis grunted, throwing his bulk over the side of my basket, adding his weight as I vented for all I was worth, trying to expel as much hot air as possible to keep us on the ground.
If Davis hated me crashing, he'd absolutely lose it over an unsanctioned ride on the side of my basket.
My arms burned as I reeled in my line, Bee-gonia collapsing on top of me without someone on the crown line to control the envelope. In a matter of seconds, Davis and I were entrapped in Bee-gonia's black and yellow nylon.
I would have excused a hail of cussing. Davis's silence scared me more.
"Davis? Davis? Are you okay?" I called, frantically trying to paw the nylon away and find him amid the fabric.
A low, masculine groan roiled my stomach, making vomit a possibility.
Please, don't let him be hurt.
"Davis? Answer me," I barked, scared that Bee-gonia and I had done real damage.
"Bee, you really need to take better care of yourself," he grumbled.
"I'm so sorry, Davis. Bee-gonia and I didn't mean to hurt you," I said, relieved to hear his voice. It was strained, but at least he was conscious.
I threw one leg over the side of Bee-gonia's basket, using my weight to tip it to the ground, grunting when my left ankle took the brunt of the impact. Slowly, I crawled out from under my balloon, shoving swathes of nylon out of my way until I emerged into fresh air.
Davis sat on the grass nearby, scowling. My heart sank at the protective way he clutched his left hand to his chest.
"You're hurt."
