Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Now we’re going to check the equipment and practice body position.” Dallas led them through getting suited up. Wind suits. Webbed harnesses. Helmets, like Shane needed the reminder his noggin was at stake.
“So, I’m gonna be right behind you.” Brandt’s silky-smooth voice slid over Shane’s strung-out nerves, making it so his body wasn’t sure what it thought of the other man’s easy charm. Or his nearness as he slipped behind Shane, way too close for comfort. He smelled like the beach, salty and crisp with a hint of something botanical. “First thing we want to do check the harness fit.”
“Uh...” Shane made a strangled sound as Brandt ran a blunt finger between the harness and Shane’s shoulder.
“Relax, I’m a professional.” Chuckling, he didn’t remove his hands, instead continuing to check Shane’s straps and each connecting point, stopping to review each place where they’d be hooked together. His spiel was probably meant to calm Shane down, but even his glancing touches were electric and had Shane tensing further.
He forced a laugh to cover for his discomfort. Couldn’t have Brandt thinking he reacted to his presence in any way. “Somehow the fact that you’re crazy enough to do this for a living isn’t as reassuring as you’d think.”
“Living? Nah.” Brandt gave an easy shrug as he came around to Shane’s front. “This is just a favor to Dallas. And you wanna talk crazy, I’m a smoke jumper. I leap out into active forest fires. This Sunday tourist hop is nothing.”
Now that made sense. Naturally, Sky Cowboy wasn’t gonna be happy on the parachuting equivalent of the bunny slope. Shane had heard about those smoke jumpers, the guys who risked their lives fighting wildfires, often with only their wits and a chainsaw. He was both impressed and slightly worried as a guy with that kind of danger tolerance might take risks Shane wouldn’t.
“So, what you’re saying is we’re boring you.”
“Not saying that at all.” He turned his full megawatt charm on Shane before moving behind him again. “This is still a hell of a way to spend an afternoon. And it’s a gorgeous view with the forests on all sides. I was thrilled to land the Grangeville assignment for the season.”
“You’re not local to here?” he asked to distract himself from Brandt’s touch again, the way he stretched Shane’s arms this way and that. The other guys were doing the same thing, but it didn’t make it any more comfortable.
“Nah. No home base really.”
“I feel that mood.” Shane never knew how to answer the hometown question. Home for him was the stage, how he felt with his guitar, the friction of strings on his callouses. But a place? Nah.
“I just go where the forest service needs me most that year and try to enjoy the ride. Which is what you’re gonna do.” Brandt did something with the carabiners on Shane’s harness, clipping them together, simple as that. “You just sit back and let me worry about the details, and you enjoy the ride down.”
Shane was none too sure that he could do that. He shifted his weight, not sure which he liked less, Brandt at his back or the rub of the harness. “Is this tight enough?”
“Nope. But that’s because I’m not done checking.”
“Check away.” Shane stretched his arms wide, forcing himself to not to groan when Brandt’s tightening efforts ended up with them sandwiched together, his warm torso flush against Shane’s back. Don’t enjoy it, he warned himself. The nylon flight suit the company provided was baggy, but even so, he was well schooled in keeping control over his body and responses.
“Your sister said you’re a musician?” Brandt asked, as calm as if they were sharing a beer, not close enough to be sharing the same oxygen molecules.
“Yep.” His voice was tight as his muscles.
“You and her ever perform together?”
“Some. We’re kinda...oil and water.” He gave his standard answer. Brandt was a big boy. He could find out for himself how unreliable Shelby was. And calling Shelby a musician was a stretch—she was decent at harmonies when she managed to show up but too impatient to master any of the instruments she’d dabbled in. She was, however, absolutely killer at moving merch, charming fans out of their credit cards with a smile and a flirty word. “And besides, she’s having fun being her pal Macy’s hype person.”
“That’s good. Fun’s everything.”
Actually, it wasn’t, but Shane nodded nonetheless.
“Speaking of fun, show me what you learned from the video. How do you hold yourself in the air?”
Obediently, Shane stretched his arms out, loosening his stance too, trying to relax like the video had said. “I feel like a little kid playing Superman.”
“Don’t we all, man. Don’t we all.” Brandt’s deep chuckle rumbled straight through Shane. Damn. This was torture. Then the other man wrapped an arm around Shane, positioning his muscled forearm where Shane could see his fancy-looking watch gadget. “Now this is my altimeter. It tells me when we’re at five thousand feet and ready to deploy the chute.”