Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

except that he had been in the army and could pilot a hot air balloon.
    "How did you get into hot air balloons?" I asked, hoping to break the ice a bit.
    He smiled before he answered so I thought it might have been a good question. "My grandpa was a senior balloon pilot in World War II. He loved it and we grew up with him taking us to the Fiesta every year. He died about ten years ago but I still love going up in a balloon. Always reminds me of him."
    "Who do you usually go up with now?" I asked, remembering how difficult it had been for him to try to fly his balloon by himself. The look of heartbreak that flashed across his face at that question made me regret asking it immediately. The silence stretched a bit and I thought that he wasn't going to answer. Eventually, though, he said, "My best friend, Alejo."
    Before I could stop myself, I heard my mouth saying, "Where was he the other day?"
    Bitterness laced his voice as he replied, "Alejo thinks that 'cause I like guys it means I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. Don't ask, don't tell isn't just a military thing, apparently."
    I reached over and laid my hand on his arm and squeezed gently. "I'm sorry, Rhys. That sucks."
    He harrumphed and managed to sound like an eighty-year-old man and look like a pouting two-year-old at the same time. "I don't care." I said.
    He looked at me and smirked. "I know. Especially if that once over you gave me while I was chopping wood was any indication."
    I felt the red hot of a blush spread all the way to the roots of my dark brown hair. "Shit," I muttered under my breath.
    He looked at me and, mimicking my tone of voice from a moment before, he said, "I don't care, either."
    I smacked him in the shoulder and we both burst out laughing.
    Once we calmed down, I spoke again, echoing my thoughts from a few minutes ago. "You know, other than hot air balloons and the army, I don't know anything about you."
    He relaxed back in his chair and propped his feet on the porch railing. "Not much to tell. Grew up in foster care. Went to UNM on a ROTC scholarship. Served my four years and got out. Now I live here and lead eco-tourism groups around the desert when the weather is good."
    Despite not having much to tell, we talked into the wee hours of the morning. The fierce attraction I had been feeling for him settled into something warm and comfortable as we got to know each other. We fell asleep in our chairs, staring at the stars. Around 3 a.m. he shook me awake and we went inside, me to the bed and him to the couch.
    ****
    The next few weeks were a welcome break from the stress that had invaded my life. Geoff called every few days to update us on his investigation, or to ask me questions that I mostly didn't know the answer to. We made one trip into Albuquerque to ship another copy of the USB drive to the FBI– this time directly to Geoff. Rhys taught me poker– which is really all about numbers– and then refused to play with me anymore when I kept beating him. I finally convinced him that we were adults and could share the queen sized bed. It must have been the military training or something, but once he was asleep he did not move a muscle. He stayed on his back with his hands folded across his stomach for six hours and then he woke up. Sometimes, in my sleep I would end up with an arm thrown across him or my leg against his and still he never moved.
    It was probably for the best because if he had shown any indication that he was open to it, I would have found myself falling for him with no thought to the consequences. And even I knew that this whole situation would end in one of two ways– me dead at the hands of the Doherty family, or me in protective custody and the Doherty family in prison. Allowing myself to fall in love with Rhys would only make it that much more difficult when I finally had to leave him.
    Despite all that, I was halfway there already.
    I must have spaced out because, the next thing I knew Rhys was snapping his fingers in front of my eyes and saying, "Earth to Jase. Come on!"
    I shook myself and ever so eloquently responded, "Huh?"
    "What were you thinking about?"
    I blushed. "Nothing."
    "Okaaay."
    Grabbing the deck of cards out on the table as a distraction, I waved them at him. "You sure you don't want to play poker after dinner? I promise I won't beat you too bad."
    He smiled and let me get away with the subject change. "Nope."
    "How about rummy?"
    "Nope."
    "Black Jack?"
    "Nope."
    "Speed?"
    "Nope."
    "Go