Page 14 of Rescuing His Kitten
Chapter Seven
BELLAROSE
The zipline looms ahead of us, a series of wooden platforms connected by cables that disappear into the forest. My stomach performs a series of terrible cartwheels, and I’m thankful I didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast.
“You sure about this?” West asks, offering me an out.
“Nope. You?”
“Absolutely not.” We exchange smirks that are probably eighty percent bravado and twenty percent actual courage.
“If I die, please don’t let my mom sell my My Little Kitten collection for what I said it was worth.”
“I would never allow that to happen.” He takes my hand, not even teasing me about it.
“Which one, letting me die or letting my mom sell my collection?”
“Both.” He winks at me, which turns those cartwheels into butterflies. If only I had wings.
I eye the zipline check-in area. It isn’t busy, and I recognize most of the people hanging around. A woman with a clipboard spots West and waves us over.
“Mr. Hayes! We’re glad you can join us.” Her smile is professional, but her eyes dart between us, noticing our joined hands. I’m sure she’s not the only one. How had it slipped my mind that I’m holding the CEO’s hand in front of everyone? “I have you down for a solo tour. But I can add your…” Her brows rise. “Friend?”
“Yes,” West says, keeping his hold on my hand firm. “Bellarose Fontaine. She’s with me.”
With me. That sounds extra personal. It makes warmth bloom through my chest and down to other areas. It’s like I belong to him.
The woman checks a few things on her clipboard with a pen. “All right, we’re good for you two to begin. We’ll get you both harnessed up, then you’ll start at platform one.”
Platform one? How many platforms are there? I don’t have time to think about it before we’re being led to the equipment area. Fifteen minutes later, I’m strapped into a harness that digs into my thighs, making me feel like a plushie at Build-A-Bear that’s gotten too much stuffing.
West, however, doesn’t look ridiculous at all. In fact, he looks like he could be the one instructing the course. He could model for a photoshoot advertising the place. They’d be booked out solid for eternity.
“You’re sure this is safe?” I whisper as we follow our guide toward the first platform. She must overhear me because she answers my question.
“Statistically, you’re more likely to be injured by a vending machine,” she tells us, then pauses. “Shit, that probably doesn’t help.”
West is giving her a hard glare, but it is kind of funny.
“Well, that’s great. I thought the only thing to fear from a vending machine was generic fruit snacks and flavorless pretzels.”
I peek over at West, and my face must give away what I’m feeling on the inside even though I’m teasing.
West stops walking and turns to face me, his expression serious. “We can go back, get these ridiculous harnesses off, and find that candle-making class. I don’t care about a zipline. I care about you not being miserable. I want this to be fun.”
The sincerity in his voice relaxes me. He means exactly what he’s saying. West would do the walk of shame with me back to the stand to have the gear removed. Even with everyone knowing we chickened out.
“I want to do it,” I say. “With you.”
Something flickers in his expression. Relief, or maybe something like affection.
“Together?” he asks, and I nod.
“Together,” I agree.
“Then when we’re done I’ll find you Gushers and Cheez-Its.”
“I’m down with that.”
