“This is Vegas,” I corrected, although we were technically in Arizona. “Everything’s insane here. That’s why it works.”
Martinez flew us deeper, the canyon walls towering above and below, creating a sense of being simultaneously insignificant and part of something vast. The sun angled through gaps in the rock, painting everything in shades of amber and rust.
Other helicopters passed—tourist groups getting their sunset tours—but Martinez knew the quieter routes, the angles that felt private even in a public wonder.
“Wedding packages,” Tashi said suddenly.
“What?”
“You were right. This would be incredible for weddings. Intimate ceremonies in the helicopter. Exchange vows over the canyon at sunset. Land at a private platform for champagne and photos.” Her brain was working now. I could hear it in her voice. “We could partner with high-end wedding planners. Market it as the ultimate elopement experience. Charge premium prices for genuine once-in-a-lifetime moments.”
“See?” I said, grateful for the excuse to focus on business instead of the way her hand felt in mine. “Marketing research.”
“You’re still a liar. This was never about marketing.”
“Maybe not entirely.” I squeezed her hand. “But you just demonstrated that it’s possible. That’s what makes you valuable, Tashi. You see opportunities even when you’re processing personal crises and dealing with corrupt regulators and flying through the Grand Canyon for the first time.”
“Stop making me sound impressive.”
“Stop being impressive.”
She turned to look at me then, and even through the headset and the noise of the helicopter, something passed between us. Understanding. Want. Trying not to acknowledge the heat between us. The sky turned shades of purple and gold that painters spent lifetimes trying to capture.
“Here,” I said. “Come look out this window.”
Tashi glanced at me with skepticism but unlocked her seat belt and leaned over to gaze at the sun setting, awash in mauves and purples.
“That is—” she said.
And the helicopter hit an air pocket with a bump that shuddered through the cabin. Tashi lost her balance, and I grabbed her. She fell into my lap.
“I’m sorry!” she said.
My voice deepened. “I’m not.”
“Orion,” she said.
“Shh. I like holding you. Did anyone ever tell you that you’re gorgeous?”
“Not often.”
“Well, then whoever you were with was an idiot.”
“I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.”
“Good. I drink whiskey myself.”
“Orion—”
“Is my holding you a problem?”
“The FAA may have something to say about it.”
I chuckled. “We’re the only two people on the helicopter except the pilot, and he’s too busy to file a complaint. I’m more concerned about you. Tell me you want to go back to your seat.”
Tashi sighed. “You know I don’t.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
