“A zoo?”
“Well, maybe just a cat and dog.” Her eyes sparkle and my gut clenches. “Until then, I’m loving on as many as I can at the animal shelter where I volunteer.”
Before I can ask more, we arrive. The doors open.
The view hits. Hard. Vegas, stretched out below us, all lights and movement and energy.
It’s the kind of thing you don’t get used to, even if you’ve seen it a million times before.
“Okay,” she breathes. “This is… incredible.”
I watch her instead of the lights. The way she takes it in. The way she forgets, for just a second, to be guarded.
Totally worth it.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the platform.
Her smile falters slightly.
“Oh,” she says. “Oh, we’re not just… looking.”
“No.”
“We’re doing something?” she asks.
“We are.”
“What are we doing?”
I gesture toward the harness setup.
Her eyes follow.
Then widen. “Ziplining?”
“Yeah.”
“Down”—she gulps and points—“there?”
“Precisely.”
She turns to me slowly. “I hate you.”
I smirk. “No, you don’t.”
“I don’t,” she admits. “But I might.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“That’s what you said about the height.”
“And you believed me.”
“I did.” She exhales, stepping forward anyway. “That was before I knew I’d be flying off a building.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
The words come out before I think about them.
