Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“No yoga tips for him. He, however, does usually give me gruff life advice any chance he gets,” I say, looking Rhys’s way.
“What sort?”
“Focus on business. Business won’t hurt you. Business won’t leave you,” I say, and while I don’t want to dwell in that romance is awful space, it’s also part of who I am. “And that romance can really let you down.”
Maybe I ruined the vibe, since everyone goes quiet, thoughtful.
“It’s good that we’re friends then. That we made a vow,” Hollis says.
“We won’t let you down,” Rhys seconds.
“We’ll keep our promise,” Gavin says, a solemn swear.
“I know we will. I believe that, guys,” I say, a small hitch in my throat. For a while I thought working for rival teams would lead to a divide between them and me. But it hasn’t at all. Instead, we’ve all become better friends, and I don’t want to lose their friendship. “I feel like I can really depend on you guys. And I hope I’m not going out on a limb, but it almost seems like the three of you are even better friends after the last few days?”
It’s a hopeful question. Maybe too hopeful.
But Gavin grunts out a yes, while Rhys says absolutely and Hollis echoes them with we are.
My heart swells with gratitude, especially when vulnerability shines in their eyes, both for me and perhaps for each other—for this unusual bond the four of us have formed in the cottage.
We all go quiet, soaring above Wine Country as the sunset paints the world below with warm oranges and deep purples.
“So, you can fly,” Hollis observes a few minutes later, then runs a hand down my arm. He glances back at Clara, who’s looking the other way.
“Maybe someday I’ll take you all for a ride,” I say.
Rhys takes his turn, sliding nimble fingers along my shoulder. “I’d say you are.”
“I’m glad you’re not flying right now, Briar,” Gavin says in a low voice, then runs his nose along the back of my neck.
I tremble in his arms. “Why’s that?”
Hollis lets his fingers drift over my hip. “Because we like it when you can let go. When you’re not worried about everything you have to do.”
Isn’t that what they’ve been teaching me this week? How to surrender? “With you guys I don’t want to be in control,” I say, an admission that’s not easy to make. But I do it anyway, like I’ve been opening up all week. Sharing.
“Good. Just enjoy yourself with us,” Rhys says, his voice thrumming over my skin as he slides a hand over my belly, then gently travels up one breast.
I glance back at Clara. Hot-air balloon rides are for families but also for lovers. We know the drill with lovers. Look away and give them a moment.
A moment is all I will take. Leaning back into Gavin. Enjoying Rhys. Savoring Hollis.
Up here, I’m floating. Up here, I can just feel. Hands on my hips, lips on my neck, a deep voice near my ear as Gavin asks, “Later, what do you want us to do to you?”
He ropes his arms around my waist, holding me tightly as the others touch and kiss me. Like that, surrounded and safe, I answer, “I want to…surrender.”
I look down at the tiny houses and vineyards, their colors fading to shades of orange and pink as the day comes to an end.
And the night begins.
After we land in a field, Clara drives us back to Hot Rides in her hot pink van with a stencil of a balloon on the side.
Once she pulls into the lot outside the hangar and cuts the engine, I startle.
My father’s on the other side of the asphalt, leaning against the hood of his restored Ford Mustang, waiting for me.
His eyes flicker with questions.
52
WHAT HAPPENS AT THE COTTAGE
Briar
“H-hi, Dad?” I ask it rather than say it.
Tension flares in every cell in my body. My dad hardly approves of romance at all. What would he think of me with three men?
You’re not with them. They’re just friends. No one needs to know what happens at the cottage.
As Clara putters in the van, my dad strides over to me, brow knitted across his weathered face, worn from the years and the work. “Hey, kiddo. What are you doing in these parts?” He goes with his standard greeting, but it means so much more as he glances at one, two, three guys with me, then adds, “Moonlighting?”
Yes, that’s it! I grab onto the lifeline he likely doesn’t even realize he’s throwing. “I thought it’d be fun to show my friends how I fly a balloon,” I say brightly.
But as soon as that excuse comes out of my mouth it deflates, because of course that’s not what actually happened. Clara flew the balloon while three hockey studs whispered sweet nothings in my ear and murmured promises of tying me up later.