The Texan's Twins. Pamela Britton
He turned to her in surprise.
She kept glancing from him to the helicopter and then back again, like a kitten fascinated by a moth. “You mind me asking how long you’ve had your pilot’s license?”
“About a month.”
Her gaze froze.
“Kidding, kidding.” He lifted his palms. “I’ve been flying for years. Been piloting helicopters for just as long. Makes things easier when you’re hitting up a bunch of rodeos and it’s convenient for my dad when he gets the urge to go out and check the wells, which he likes to do pretty frequently. Control freak with a capital C and F.”
She glanced at the helicopter again. He knew what she was thinking.
“Really,” he said. “It’s okay.”
He could tell she didn’t want to admit her fears. To her credit he saw her take a deep breath, square her shoulders and step forward.
Good girl.
“There’s a headset between your seat and mine.” She looked around once she’d settled herself. He could tell she instantly spotted the headset. “Make sure you strap yourself in. It can get a little rough sometimes. Downdrafts and all that. I’m going to walk the exterior.”
She still looked green around the gills, but she would change her mind once they were airborne. It was amazing up there, and she wanted a little excitement. He couldn’t wait to give it to her, although he worried about why he needed to please her. The familiar preflight quickly garnered all his attention, however. As he walked the aircraft, his heart began to pound. Flying was one of the few things aside from riding a bull that gave him an adrenaline rush.
He climbed inside a moment later, glancing over at Jasmine as he did so. She’d put on her headphones in a way that flattened her hair against her scalp, a big loop of her ponytail stuck inside the earpiece, but it didn’t detract from her pretty face. Quite the contrary. It highlighted the perfect shape of her cheekbones and her large blue eyes.
“Ready?”
“No.”
He bit back a smile. “Relax. Flying is the other thing I do really well.”
He didn’t mean for the words to sound so flirtatious, but she clearly took them the wrong way, judging by the look she shot him. “I’ll try and remember that if we start to crash.”
He donned his headphones. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she answered back, her voice sounding tinny and far away. “But that might not be a good thing when I start screaming.”
“That’s okay. I have a mute button.”
He flipped a switch, and the rotors began to spin, slowly at first and then faster and faster. What started as a minor vibration turned into a major one and then slowly smoothed out until there was nothing but the near-deafening hum of the engines. He touched the comm, checked in with the tower, received clearance to fly in a northwesterly direction. Didn’t matter how many times he flew, there was always the surge of adrenaline just before he set off.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Here we go.”
* * *
SHE WANTED TO PUKE.
Honestly, when he’d dragged her along, she hadn’t given a thought to Jet actually piloting the craft. Well, maybe she’d thought about it a little bit, but now that moment of truth had arrived.
“Please don’t kill me.” The words just sort of popped out. “I have two little girls who really need their mother.”
They were slowly rising above the earth, the metal building they’d just been inside shrinking like a piece of plastic in the oven.
“Hey, relax.”
“I just don’t think it was very smart of me to trust a man who’s known for never following through on much of anything in life.”
“Excuse me?”
It helped to take her mind off things to keep talking, even if she was pretty sure he might not like what he was about to hear. “There was the race-car thing.”
He turned the nose of the helicopter. They shot forward. She reached for a bar on the door, but there was no bar on the door. This wasn’t a car. This was a helicopter and apparently there was no need for something to hang on to according to the manufacturers.
“The car-racing thing was a dare. Someone claimed he had a faster car than mine. I proved him wrong.”
“By building your own drag car.”
“It was a stock car, way different than the big-ended, fat-tired things you see on TV.”
“And then there was the stint as a writer.”
“Where did you hear about that?”
They were at least a mile above the airport, cars shrinking to the size of pill bugs, highways looking like the veins of a leaf spreading in all directions, and buildings resembling Lego blocks. Off in the periphery, the greens and golds and sometimes the blue of rural Dallas County stretched as far as the eye could see.
“The energy business is a small world. People talk.”
They were picking up speed—Jasmine reminded herself that she’d asked for a little excitement. Still, it was one thing to ask, another to experience his version of excitement firsthand.
“First of all, it was cowboy poetry, which isn’t the same thing as trying to be a writer, and I was actually pretty good at it.”
You haven’t flown since before having Brooke and Gwen.
Was that it? Was she suddenly aware of her own mortality now that she’d given birth?
Keep talking.
“Okay, and how about trophy fishing?”
“That I still like to do.”
“My point being you never seem to settle down and do one thing at a time.” She swallowed back her agitation. “Which means you’re never going to excel at anything you do.”
“Ouch.”
“Except rodeo. You seem to have stuck with that.”
“And to think, I actually felt sorry for you a little while ago.”
“I’m just worried your lack of commitment might mean you’re not the best helicopter pilot in the world.”
“That worry I can dispel right now.”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
“Remember when I asked you if you wanted the Disney or the vanilla version?”
“Yeah?”
“Here’s the Disney.”
“Oh, damn—”
Her stomach lurched. It actually felt as if it flew out of her body and landed somewhere in the vicinity of her toes. In reality, it was the helicopter that dropped, but it might as well have been her stomach. She screamed, or she thought she did. Her terror might have been solely confined to the inside of her head.
“Hang on.”
She almost yelled there was nothing to hang on to, but she was too busy trying to catch her breath. They were headed for a patch of green, one with a ribbon of blue in the center of it. A river. She had no idea which one it was, only that they were headed right for it, the helicopter dropping lower and lower and lower.
“Jet!” But it wasn’t exactly a squeal of terror. Even to her own ears she could hear the laughter.
They never even got close to the water, not really, but it felt like it as Jet maneuvered the helicopter forward. Below she