Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(83)

“Thanks,” Stevie said, then pulled Iris toward the balloon’s gondola, which was truly just a giant wicker basket, a propane tank on top, flame filling the balloon.

They stepped inside, Stevie keeping hold of Iris’s hand even once they were situated in a corner. They didn’t talk—Iris found she was actually speechless. She’d never done anything this extravagant on a date before. Grant liked to wine and dine, but he took the term literally, and his idea of a perfect date was a night out at a nice restaurant and an expensive bottle of pinot noir.

“I mean, wow,” Iris said as Laney finished whatever she was doing and the basket lurched a bit.

Stevie laughed. “I know, it’s a bit over the top. But I figured, if a character in a romance novel was trying to woo another character, they’d probably do something a bit more dramatic than dinner and a movie.”

Iris laughed. “True. And Briony is chasing Tegan at this point.”

“See?” Stevie said softly, smiling at her. “Perfect.”

She held Iris’s gaze for a second before looking out over the field, and Iris felt suddenly off-balance. Then again, Laney had just stepped into the gondola, causing it to rock a little side to side.

“Okay, here we go,” Laney said as she fired up the tank even more, then pulled in the weighted bags holding the basket down. Soon, they were lifting into the sky, and Iris couldn’t help but squeal a little and grip the sides of the basket. The ground got smaller and smaller, the trees, the crops, the white farmhouse.

“Oh my god,” Iris said, watching as her entire world turned on its head. “This is amazing.”

“It really is,” Stevie said. She let go of Iris’s hand, then moved behind her, caging her in between her arms as she rested her hands on the basket’s sides. She set her chin on Iris’s shoulder, and Iris leaned her head against hers. She couldn’t help it. It felt so natural, so . . . normal.

“A-plus on the romance,” she said, her words a little shaky as they ascended higher into the sky.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Stevie whispered, her breath tickling Iris’s ear.

Iris shivered, shook it off. “You’re not proposing, are you?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Iris turned to look at her, that simple declaration nearly knocking the wind out of her, like she saw Iris and what she saw was . . . okay. It was great, even. Suddenly, her joke felt all too real, as did Stevie’s response, and she wasn’t sure what to say.

“But I am going to ask you to dance,” Stevie said.

Iris blinked. “What?”

“Well, we’ve danced in your living room. In the rain on the beach. If this is Tegan and Briony’s quirky romantic thing, I think dancing while in a hot-air balloon is the next logical step.”

“Upping your game, are we?”

“Absolutely.”

Iris laughed and turned in Stevie’s arms, her hands coming to rest on her shoulders, Stevie’s own fingers curling around Iris’s waist.

“Okay,” Iris said. “I accept.”

Stevie smiled, then pulled Iris even closer, her cheek pressing against Iris’s head. They swayed in the air, staying close to the edge so they could see the Willamette Valley spread out below them. Iris tried to imagine how she could work this into her book, but she couldn’t hold on to a single thought. She was full of other things—the way Stevie’s hair smelled like grass and summer, the feel of her fingers trailing up and down Iris’s back.

The way Iris’s heart suddenly felt huge, too big for her own chest, sending blood rushing to her head and making her a little dizzy.

“Can I ask you something?” Stevie asked as she twirled them in a small circle.

“Sure,” Iris said.

“Why did you kiss me? When I came over tonight?”

Iris swallowed, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she settled on the truth. “I don’t know.”

Stevie pulled her tighter and Iris suddenly felt like crying. She couldn’t explain it. She’d spent the better part of fourteen months running from this exact feeling, making sure she never got this far into her emotions, yet here she was, dancing with a woman who’d puked on her during a hookup, her heart lodged in her throat. She both hated and loved it, this romance, this feeling like she was falling, only to have Stevie reach out and catch her.

It was ridiculous.

It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.

But fuck, it felt so, so good.

She could at least admit that—romance was nice, and Stevie was a goddamn expert.

So she let herself feel it, all of it, the falling and catching and comfort, pushing away the panic she knew would catch up to her sooner or later.

For now, she simply closed her eyes and danced, floating through a golden sky.





AFTER THE BALLOON ride, Stevie and Iris drove back to Bright Falls and ate at Moonpies, gorging on veggie burgers and fries and, of course, homemade moon pies in various flavors. They talked about growing up in small towns and coming out and college and all the stories Iris wanted to write, all the plays Stevie had done.

“What was the worst performance you ever had?” Iris asked, pushing the remnants of her strawberry shortcake moon pie around on her plate.

Stevie looked affronted. “Worst? What makes you think I’ve ever had one of those?”