Page 22 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)

Juliet

The next morning, we’ve gone through a long safety briefing at the private hangar that basically covers all the ways we can die, including the very traditional my chute didn’t open option, before signing all our legal rights off to the skydiving company.

The whole thing has me feeling like this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever gotten myself into.

I glance over at Jett, the tandem diver who will be strapped to my back, his name really quite fitting.

Jett has an ever-present smile on his face, with shoulders that are around four times the width of mine.

He looks to be in his early twenties. I wish he looked a little more seasoned or experienced, but I’m doing my best to ignore what we’re about to do while I select a bright purple jumpsuit with a pink stripe up the side from a rack of flight suits they set out for me.

My brain silently adds quippy comments while I try to make my selection.

Is that really the best choice to die in?

What will that purple look like when splattered out across the ground?

Could I possibly push Silas from the plane once the door slides open?

“First time?” Jett asks, pulling me out of my head.

He grins at me as he jumps up and down a few times to stretch himself out, looking more like an Olympic athlete or Roman statue cut from a solid hunk of marble than a skydiving partner.

His navy-blue eyes match his own vinyl jumpsuit, and they’re shining at me like a kid in a candy store.

He’s cute. Okay, he’s well-beyond cute. And, unlike most of the men I’ve talked to in the last year, he’s not a client. Or an annoying old friend.

“Yes, first and probably only time.” I nod, reluctantly stepping into my purple jumpsuit before pulling it up past my hips. The vinyl hangs loosely over my spandex leggings — courtesy of Katie for this particular adventure.

“Nervous?” he asks. His grin grows wider. His accent is cute and I wish we could make less stilted conversation before I trust him with my actual life.

My fingers shake as I pull the sleeves over my arms and I try my best to zip the whole thing up. It takes a few tries, before he grabs the clasp from my hands and slowly pulls it clear up to my neck.

He’s grinning at me when I look up, holding on to the zipper a beat longer than necessary, and I realize, with a start, that this guy might actually be attempting to flirt with me.

Oh. Oh, okay.

It’s been a minute, and I feel a bit rusty, but this guy doesn’t know a thing about me, or my past. Why not give it a momentary go?

“Do you remember your first time?” I ask, squinting at Jett, wishing so badly that I spoke better German. Or any German, really.

“First time? Me?” He puts his hand over his thick chest and I nod.

He gets a funny look on his face then throws his arms out to the side, pretending to fly toward the ground with a terrified look on his face. He stops and breaks into a smile, nodding sheepishly.

“I remember,” he adds. “ So scary.”

I wish I hadn’t asked. My stomach doubles the knot that’s already there.

“But so fun!” He scrunches his face and gently grabs my arm, like he wishes he hadn’t added any fuel to my ever-growing nerves. “You’ll need to hang on tight.” He pats his shoulders, which makes his biceps flex enormously.

“I can do that,” I tell him, feeling a hint of blush creep across my cheeks.

God, I’m so awkward at this.

I glance across the room at Silas, who has already selected a cherry-red jumpsuit from another rack holding his size options. His hair is still mussed from last night since he worked from his laptop right up until our car arrived this morning and he didn’t have time to shower.

He’s not watching Jett and I, but instead he’s talking with the tandem diver assigned to him — a guy named Ethan, who looks older and much more experienced than Jett.

Silas’ green eyes are giddy and glowing, without a hint of nervousness, right above his white grin.

Ethan looks to be twice the age of Jett, and I’m more than a little envious that they’ve been assigned to jump together.

Instead I’ve been assigned to jump with someone who could pass as my much younger, meathead brother.

I smile at Jett, who’s still jumping around, full of as much nervous energy on the outside as I’m feeling on the inside.

“You want Ethan?” Jett asks, apparently noticing the wistfulness in my eyes while I stare at the other diver.

“No.” I brush him off quickly, wishing I could stop a deeper blush from seeping into my cheeks. The last thing I need to do is piss off the guy in charge of securely strapping me to him.

He grins until I relent.

“Okay, I mean, he just looks much older. More experienced?” I say, nervously laughing, then add a shrug like it’s a question. “Can’t blame me for wanting someone who has loads of experience.”

“I’m experienced,” he tells me, nudging my arm. Then he hops back and forth like a track star heading into a big race. “Experienced in everything that matters.”

He winks. Like, actually winks.

“Oh!” I don’t know what else to say. Jesus, take the wheel.

He has the guts to wink at me, the look on his face saying more than his words, and I give Silas a withering glance. My heart starts to pound.

“Don’t be nervous,” Silas says, saddling up next to me.

“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.

A dolly .

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.

Jesus Christ.

“No,” I exclaim, pulling it the rest of the way up myself.

“Ready?” Jett asks, blinking happily.

“No,” I tell him, realizing that I just zipped my suit back up when what I really wanted to do was take the whole thing off and run out of the hangar.

I try to get the zipper to go down again but now it’s stuck up at my neckline.

Silas grins, then bites his bottom lip.

“Come on, Jules. What did you think we were going to fly up in? A space ship? Just trust me on this.”

“Why?”

“Because you used to,” he says, as if it’s the most simple answer in the whole world.

I swallow, not really expecting that.

“Key words being used to ,” I remind him. I try to jerk the zipper back down again while I go on, but it isn’t budging. “Tell me why I should trust you and that toy plane, Si.”

He laughs, hardly bothered, before grabbing my shoulders, giving me a gentle shake. Then he releases me and walks backward toward the plane with his arms outstretched, drawing out the distance between us.

“Because I would never take a chance with your life, babe.”

I scoff. Babe ? Before I get a chance to protest, he goes on.