“I’ll brace the ladder,” I offer, circling to the other side and gripping the metal legs.
George drags his stare up and down multiple times before squaring his shoulders and climbing. It’s kind of impressive how he rockets up the thing. There’s only a touch of fumbling when he extends a long arm to unscrew the dead bulb, which he drops into Marge’s waiting hands. When the new bulb is in place, my stepmom flicks the light switch and the chandelier blares to life in a beautiful, warm glow.
“Perfect. Thank you! We would’ve put that off for weeks.” Marge strolls out of the room with the old bulb, leaving me bracing the ladder as George climbs down.
Which he does at a snail’s pace. Seriously, the guy pauses for like acount of ten on each rung. Then I catch sight of his face, which is shockingly pale with a distinct sheen of sweat.
“Oh my god. Are you okay?”
His boots touch the floor, and I swear George exhales every ounce of oxygen in his lungs. I let go of the ladder and circle around to his side.
“Hey.” I press a hand against his back and one on his stomach, feeling the overwhelming urge to make sure he’s breathing. His rib cage expands and depresses, each move overly exaggerated. “Talk to me, George. What’s going on?”
His head drops, hanging in something like shame. He mumbles words I don’t catch.
“What was that?”
He sucks in another deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “I’m afraid of heights.”
“You…” My brain struggles with the matchup.
A pilot who is afraid of heights? Is that even possible?
A warmth envelops my fingers, and I realize George has placed his hand over mine, holding me to him. The move muddles my brain briefly, and the two of us stand there, not moving, the only sound George’s steady breathing.
“It’s more a fear of ledges,” he explains, breaking the silence. “Fear of falling. That’s not something I’m worried about in an airplane.”
The way he answered the question before I managed to ask it makes me feel like he can read my mind. I slip my hands off him and remind myself that I’m probably not the first person who made the connection. He doubtlessly gets asked all the time.
“That makes sense. Even though, technically, we did fall from very high up the first time I flew with you.”
George huffs a strained laugh. “I’d say we glided.”
“Fine.” I frown. “You dolt!” I jab his side with my finger. “Why’d you agree to go up on the ladder?”
“I wanted to help.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, and if you had passed out from fright and fallen off, that would’ve been a big help.” Neither Marge nor I are built to catch a guy of George’s size. He would’ve pancaked us. “Next time you can just hoist me onto your shoulders, and I’ll be the one up high.”
The corner of George’s mouth twitches. “As much as I’d like your thighs cradling my head, I don’t think that would get you high enough.”
“Whatever.” I give his side another scolding poke. “Let’s go fly a plane.”
George’s laugh follows me as I stalk out of the house.
Chapter
30
I was definitelya last-minute addition to Tasha’s wedding party because the event is scheduled for only two weeks after Shawn showed up with my invite. Still, I appreciate being included.
George—after checking in with me to make sure I wanted to spend the night with him—books us a room in the hotel where the reception is being held. But that doesn’t mean I don’t tease him about the gesture.
“I don’t know,” I say in my best unimpressed voice as I wander around the suite. “I mean, I guess it’s nice. But it lacks the mildewy charm of the motel.” With a dramatic leap, I plop onto the bed. “This isn’t even damp. I’m calling the front desk to complain.”
George leans a shoulder against the doorway, watching my antics with a silent smirk. Then he firms his lips and shakes his head.
“Stop rolling around on the bed.”
