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Drayven said nothing.
“What’s the matter, Dray? Too chicken shit?”
Drayven might know how to fight off six men with nothing but a switchblade, but I had never seen a grown-ass man more scared of heights than him. And I loved watching him pretend as if he could handle it.
“Nah, boss. I’ll do it.” He gulped and looked out the window at the two giant balloons waiting for us.
I got out of the car to open Quinn’s door. “What? You’ve never been on a hot air balloon?”
She slapped my chest playfully.
“We better not die. My mama will kill you,” she played.
“After we die?”
“No, she’ll make the doctors bring you back to life just so she could kill you herself.”
“Got it. I’ll keep us alive.”
We strolled up to the pilot waiting for us.
“Why are there two balloons and only one pilot?” asked Lucy.
“That’s because Weston hereisa pilot.” Kent, the pilot, stepped up and explained.
Drayven, Lucy, and Quinn turned to me in shock.
“What? A guy can’t have hobbies?”
“Uh, yeah,” Lucy said. “Those hobbies usually include collecting cars or working out.”
“Well, who’s ready to go ballooning?” Kent asked, ready to give them all the lowdown.
We heard the instructions and signed all the waivers. Before we knew it, we were rising up 1000 feet over the surface.
The ground gradually shrunk below us, and I watched Quinn’s face turn to amazement as the trees and cars grew smaller as we climbed.
We saw Lucy waving from the other balloon and shouting something, but we couldn’t hear what she was saying over the sound of the burners. Once we were high enough, I put the setting on auto for the burners to keep us at a constant level, and we floated with the wind.
Quinn’s legs were shaky as she clutched the side of the basket with both hands.
“This is by far the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” she confessed. I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close to me as we watched the panoramic views of Seattle.
“Crazier than agreeing to be my wife for three months?” I asked her, resting my head on the side of her neck.
“No, that’s definitely the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”
She released her death grip on the basket to hold up her hand and look at her ring.
“It suits you,” I told her. “I want you to keep it.”
She turned to peer at me over her shoulder.
“No way, this thing must be worth millions. You need to keep it.”
“Absolutely not. I waited two years for you to have it. It’s yours.”
Her eyes scanned my face, and I lifted my head.
