Page 40 of The Best Wild Idea
“Your boyfriend?” Jett asks, pointing to him.
“Boyfriend?” I repeat before a high-pitched sputtery laugh comes out. “No!”
“Lucky man,” Jett says to Silas, nodding appreciatively.
“No,” I insist louder. “Definitely not boyfriend.”
I step back from both the men.What would give him that impression?
Silas only laughs, completely unbothered.
“Please,” I huff, rolling my eyes at them.
We all turn to watch a few more crew members who have appeared in the hangar. They’re pulling a tiny prop plane out of a private bay using a dolly.
Adolly.
I’m about to make it very clear that Silas is not my boyfriend when I realize that the plane they’re pulling out is meant for us.
“That?” I point at the plane as it’s wheeled out of the enormous half-dome building. I don’t know what I was expecting, but definitely not a plane that’s small enough to be pulled out of a hangar by a guy with a little lever in his hand. “You have got to be kidding me. No way. Nope.”
Immediately, I start walking back toward the rack to pull my jumpsuit off, but Silas keeps up, jogging beside me.
“Oh, no you don’t!” he says, passing me.
I nearly bump into his chest when he darts in front of me, blocking my path to the rack full of jumpsuits. I put my hands on my hips and jut my chin out while I stare up at him, our chests nearly touching.
“I’m not getting in that tin can of a plane,” I say, pointing at what appears to be a toy instead of an actual flying machine.
“The worst part is the flight up. But you’ll already have a parachute on so—” He stops as my glare intensifies. He tries again. “Okay, you know, this location is probably why Grant chose this spot anyway. It’s meant to be a distraction. People go on helicopter tours of this area for the incredible scenery. Once the wheels are up and you’re floating in the clouds above those glaciers . . .” He points to the mountain range just beyond the runway. “Once you see those lakes again from above, you’re going to forget about being scared at all. I promise.”
“Oh, I highly doubt that,” I tell him. I pull my jumpsuit zipper down past my crotch to step out, not giving him another chance to persuade me.
Before I realize what’s happening, Silas has grabbed my zipper, and he’s fumbling around, trying to zip the jumpsuit back up. But it’s stuck.
His hands are working shockingly close to me, barely brushing against me each time he yanks, but the zipper won’t give.
I step back, but he comes with me.
“Trust me,” he huffs, finally jerking the zipper up past my belly button, but it sticks again at my chest.
“Silas, really?” I ask, widening my eyes, slapping his hand away.
He’s already turned red.
“That was supposed to be much faster. It got stuck. I didn’t mean to, um.”
“The zipper sticks,” I deadpan.
“Well, you could have told me that.”
“When? In the split second you were lunging toward my crotch?”
“Well, yeah.”
Jett steps up just behind Silas and points at the zipper, still stuck at my bra line.
“You need my help again?” he asks.
