Hard Impact: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel (24 page)

While I understood the need for privacy and solitude, Blake seemed to revel in his isolation. I didn’t think he was putting on a front for the public either. This desire to be alone, to be out in nature… that was what Blake was all about. I’d seen the look on his face after the bronc ride at the rodeo, it was nothing but unadulterated pleasure. Not the kind of pleasure I had seen on his face when we were… when we’d done what we did in the cabin, but a different kind of pleasure. I had been happy to see that look on his face. I liked to see other people happy, doing what they liked to do.

Finally, Blake climbed into the chopper and went through the other half of his checklist. My eyes burned with weariness. As Blake turned on the engine and the rotors began to slowly spin, I turned to stare out the window into the woods just beyond. Despite my overwhelming desire to go back to sleep, to get this trip over with, I realized that Blake had asked me a question that I hadn’t been asked in I didn’t know how long.

When was the last time someone had asked me if I was having fun? If I was happy? Content with life? Achieving my goals? I shook my head, muttering to myself that I was being an idiot, that being around Blake was scrambling my brains.

“Did you say something?” he asked, looking over his shoulder as he pulled the headphones from the console and draped them around his neck. “You okay? You’re not feeling sick already, are you?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. As long as you don’t do any loopy loops or crazy maneuvers, I’ll be just fine. How long does it take to fly from here to Jackson Hole? Don’t you have to fuel up?”

“I will,” he nodded. “About halfway there, to keep my fuel gauge happy. It’s about an eight-hundred-mile trip. At cruising speed of about one-fifty, about five hours, maybe less if we get a good tailwind. I’ll grab us some snacks and drinks at the airport before we head out. You okay with that?”

Five hours? In a helicopter? Could I deal with that? I believed so and nodded. What choice did I have anyway? Maybe I could sleep during part of the flight. That would make it seem quicker, wouldn’t it?

“It’s good flying weather, so I don’t think we’ll have to deal with much turbulence. If you want, go ahead and stretch out on the seat. It looks like you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“And how would you know that?” I asked, wary.

“You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.” He eyed me for several moments. “You know, any job that wrings you inside and out isn’t a job worth having.”

I made a face. “Easy for you to say,” I replied. “You don’t have to worry about coming up with next month’s rent payment, do you?”

“Sorry.” He looked away from me, searching for his words. “I didn’t mean that to sound flippant. I just mean… it’s always better to do something that you love to do. Makes living a little easier.”

“Well, when I inherit a million dollars, I’ll take you up on that,” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to make my comment sound insulting, but it’d come out that way. I saw his face go blank as he turned forward, placed the headphones over his ears. I felt bad, wished I could apologize, but instead turned to stare out the window again toward the woods.

Nope, we were from totally different worlds. And I wasn’t about to start filtering my comments. Blake didn’t know what it was like to have to live paycheck to paycheck. He probably never had to worry about where money was going to come from. How could he possibly even begin to relate to my life? It was easy to throw around advice about career choices when you had money.

While I had to accept the fact that, to some degree at least, I
was
envious of his lifestyle, I was at the same time realistic enough to know that I’d better not start thinking like that or I would get into trouble. I’d always been perfectly content with my life. Yes, I had aspirations, but life was more than just money. Money made things a lot easier, no doubt about it, but as in Blake’s case, it could also make a person’s life miserable. Never knowing who to trust, always thinking that people liked you for what you could do for them, always hitting you up for favors… I had read horror stories of lottery winners and the way some of their lives fell apart after they won big. Friends and family coming out of the woodwork, expecting a handout, a favor, a business partnership. If I ever won a lottery, I would do my best to keep it secret.

Fat chance of that. I didn’t buy lottery tickets. I had better things to do with my money than throw it away. With a sigh, I leaned my head back against the buttery soft seat and watched silently from the passenger compartment as Blake completed his checklist. I admired his skills, felt a twinge in my belly as I watched his strong fingers adjust that dial, flip that switch, and move a lever. Every time he moved, his thigh muscles bunched. Every time he reached forward to adjust a knob, I watched the play of muscles in his back. Even the way his hair draped against the back of his neck was sexy. Was there anything about him that wasn’t?

Finally, I pushed off my shoes, curled my legs up onto the soft leather seat, and leaned against the side of the chopper, my head resting on the sweatshirt I shoved between the bulkhead and my skull. I continued to watch Blake prepare for the flight as the blades started to whir faster and faster. Several minutes later, my eyes half-closed, I felt us lift off of the ground, this time straight up. Just as the chopper climbed above the treetops, we shot forward.

This time, I wasn’t nearly as frightened. This time, I actually thrilled to the speed, the feeling that rushed through me. I should appreciate the opportunities I was enjoying in Blake’s company. I doubted I would ever have the opportunity to travel in a luxury high tech chopper again, so I might as well appreciate the experience. I wished I had a camera so I could take pictures of the interior of the cabin. Melanie would be so jealous—

What was the matter with me? I didn’t want my friend to be jealous or envious. Why would I think such a thing? I shook foolish thoughts out of my head and watched Blake, focused on his flying. I had no doubt that things were well under control and resolved to relax. I trusted him.

I trusted him.

That gave me something to think about. As my gaze skimmed over the miles and miles of forest below, the brightness of the sun rising ahead of them, my eyes grew heavy again. I closed them, and faster than I would have thought possible, the rhythmic
whomp whomp
of the rotors, the smooth flight, and the soft leather cushions beneath lulled me back to sleep.

*

I dimly heard the sound of a deep voice close by.

“Misty, wake up. We’re here.” Pause. “Misty.”

I slowly opened my eyes, at first confused. Where was I? Then I saw Blake. He had turned to look over his shoulder at me from the front seat of the helicopter. We had stopped. I didn’t hear the sound of the rotor blades and realized we were on the ground. I quickly sat up, pulling my feet from the soft leather cushions and placing them on the floor as I brushed my hand through my hair.

“Are we refueling?”

He shook his head. “No. Already did that. We’re in Jackson Hole.”

“We are?” I asked, looking out the window, surprised that I had slept during the entire flight, even his landing to refuel and take off again.

“You were tired,” he grinned. “Ready to have some fun?”

I carefully swept my fingers through my hair again, stalling. “What kind of fun are you talking about?”

He pointed upward and I frowned. “We’re taking off again?”

“Yes and no,” he said, then gestured for me to pick up my belongings. He turned to exit the craft. By the time I gathered my satchel, flung the strap over my shoulder, and picked up the jeans and sweatshirt in my arms, he had the passenger door open. My muscles were just a little stiff, not like they had been before, but I moved slowly as I climbed out of the helicopter, one of his strong hands supporting my elbow.

I looked around. It looked like an airstrip, but I didn’t see any planes. “This is an airport? Where are the planes?”

“It’s a regional air field. Mostly used by business corporations and shipping companies.” He grinned down at me. “And helicopters.”

I grew more alert with every passing second. It all came back to me in a rush. The next property. The Camp Robber Resort. I followed wordlessly as he led the way toward a hangar. With every step I took, I felt better, more rested. Invigorated. A colorful blue-and-white emblem of an air balloon emblazoned on the side of the building caught my attention. We weren’t going up in an air balloon, were we? My heart jumped. We rounded the corner of the hanger near two large open doors.

Outside of the hangar sat a small plane, not a Cessna, but not a jet either. A large opening in the side of the aircraft gave me a brief view of the interior. Heavy plastic bucket seats lined up against one wall. A system of ropes and pulleys overhead. A pilot was inside, a clipboard in hand. Working a check sheet. He saw movement, then lifted a hand in a brief wave. Blake waved back. I didn’t have time to ask questions before Blake entered the hangar.

“Blake!” The voice came from the rear of the hangar. “‘Bout time you got here!”

Blake laughed and raised a hand in greeting. “I told you I’d be here early in the afternoon. Actually, I’m ahead of schedule.”

“No worries,” the man with a blond crew cut remarked as he strode toward Blake and gave him one of those man hugs followed by a clap or two on the back. “We’ll be ready in just a few minutes. I had a feeling you’d be ahead of schedule, so I moved everything up.”

Blake laughed. “Good thinking. I left at dawn this morning.”

He turned to me as I glanced between the two. Old friends?

“Jacob, I’d like you to meet Misty… Misty Rankin,” he said. He turned to me and gestured toward the man. “Misty, this is Jacob Sizemore. He runs this little operation with his older sister.” He glanced around. “Where’s Maggie?”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “Who knows? She was here a few minutes ago. If she misses you, she’s going to be upset.”

What operation? I glanced around, my gaze skimming the items hanging from dozens of hooks screwed into the walls on all three sides of the hanger. Lots of harnesses, flight suits or jumpsuits, or something like it. Big bundles packaged tightly laying side by side on a table on the other side of the space.

“Welcome to Air Extremes,” Jacob smiled politely, extending a hand toward me.

I took his hand and returned a firm handshake, though I did give Blake a curious glance. I gathered that this was one of the venues that he was talking about, one of the perks available to guests staying at the Camp Robber.

“Go ahead and grab a suit from over there,” Jacob gestured.

I glanced at the wall where the gear was located, saw a dozen or so blue coveralls hanging from more hooks on the wall. Blake immediately headed for it. I followed. “You have to put on a jumpsuit to go up in a hot air balloon?”

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned down at me. “Rules are rules,” he said, gesturing. “Grab one.” He paused, gave me a body check, and then cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, Misty, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but you weigh what, about one-fifty?”

For a moment, I stared up at him in shock. What the
hell?
Before I could stop myself, I retorted. “One-forty-two if you must know, which is definitely within the normal range for a woman of my height.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get your feathers all ruffled,” he said. “I’m only asking because there’s a weight limit.”

“A weight limit for what?” He didn’t answer, but reached up and grabbed two sets of blue coveralls off the hooks. He thrust one at me and then slipped off his shoes. The coveralls were one-piece. You know, the kind that you put on the legs first, then up and over the shoulders. A long zipper closed up the front. He gestured for me to start pulling mine on.

“Don’t dawdle now,” he said. “The pilot will be ready to go in just a few minutes.”

One hand tightly clutching the coveralls, the other still clutching my satchel with the borrowed jeans and sweatshirt drooping over my arm, I glanced over my shoulder, outside the hangar door and toward the airplane with the opening in the side. “The pilot? Go? Where?”

Blake didn’t answer, but quickly stepped into the coveralls, pulled them up over his shoulders, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and then zipped the thing up. In seconds, he was donning his shoes and re-lacing the ties.

“Here, give me your satchel and your clothes,” he said. Without waiting for me to hand him the items, he grabbed them, placing them onto a foldout table shoved against the wall near the coveralls.

Not quite understanding, and still a little groggy from my extended nap in the helicopter followed by this sudden whir of activity, I pulled on the coveralls the same way Blake had, except I didn’t have to remove my flats. I’d never been on a hot air balloon ride and didn’t make the connection between the emblem on the side of the hanger and the pilot waiting in the aircraft. Maybe that was for something else. The moment I zipped up my coveralls, Blake reached for my arm and gently led me over to another part of the wall where harnesses hung from hooks, just as the coveralls had. He pulled down a harness and handed it to me. I held it uncertainly while he reached up and grabbed another.

“Watch me,” he said.

I did. He stepped into two loops of the harness and pulled the straps up his legs to his groin. The straps accentuated his crotch, and I had to focus my concentration on what he was doing and not how his…

“Now you do it.”

The upper portion of the harness straps were red with black padding. A belt section that wrapped around the waist and the upper thighs was black, with open gold rivets. Buckles, back and side D-rings provided surprisingly light construction that nevertheless felt durable and strong.

He waited and watched as I stepped into the leg loops of the harness as instructed and then worked it up my legs. Then he continued with his harness. Then it was my turn again. I watched, repeated, watched, and then repeated again until the harness was on, the straps enveloping my groin, settling against the base of my ass. He checked the straps over my shoulders. Each of the straps buckled into a solid clasp in front of my stomach and locked shut with a turning-like lock.