by Susan Stoker
“Hi. I’m Harley.”
“Harley. I like it.”
“Yeah, um, my parents had a thing for motorcycles.” She kept the explanation short and sweet, her mind going in too many directions to get into it at the moment.
He held out his hand to her. “It’s good to meet you.”
Harley shook his hand.
“I appreciate you volunteering to be my first-ever customer.”
Harley’s eyes shot up to his. “What?”
He chuckled and grinned, his eyes dancing. “Sorry, jumpmaster humor. To put your mind at ease, I have no idea what number jump this is for me, but it’s well into the upper hundreds. Relax, Harley. You’re in good hands. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Oh, well. Okay.” She bit her lip.
Coach’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand once in a barely there caress before he let go. “Go on.”
“Go on, what?” Harley asked, resisting the urge to wipe her hand on her jeans. Her skin felt like it was tingling where they’d touched, but that was impossible…wasn’t it?
“Ask me the questions I can see burning behind those beautiful brown eyes of yours.”
Harley pushed her glasses up on her nose for what seemed the millionth time and considered the man in front of her for a moment. Coach was much taller than she was, but he didn’t use his height to intimidate her. He had short dark hair, but not buzzed like a lot of the military men in the area had. And he smelled delicious. Many men doused themselves with cologne, but Coach used only a small amount, or he used scented soap. Whatever it was made her want to bury her nose into the space between his neck and shoulder and inhale.
She wondered if he had some Greek blood in his veins, because he had the kind of dark skin and facial features that reminded her of men from that area. His nose was a bit too big to be considered handsome, but his square jaw, high cheekbones, full lips, and the hint of a five o’clock shadow made him look more…manly than most men she encountered on a daily basis.
He stood a respectful distance away from her and crossed his arms over his chest. He had broad shoulders, and his body naturally tapered down to his trim waist. She could see he was very buff under the blue shirt; his muscles rippled with each of his movements, pulling the material taut. Harley immediately began to design a character in her head who would look just like the man standing in front of her. He’d make an excellent soldier for one of her games. She could imagine him taking down the enemy and saving the girl from the bad guys at the same time.
No one could ever dismiss this man as not being…dangerous, but it seemed somewhat banked. As if he could function perfectly well in polite society, but the second he was provoked, he’d pounce.
Harley tore her mind off of what Coach looked like and tried to bring herself back to his request. She did have questions, lots of them. Coach waited patiently for her to work through the thoughts in her head, and she appreciated him not rushing her. Most people found silence awkward, and jumped in to ask another question or to clarify whatever it was they’d asked, but apparently not this guy. He looked as though he’d stand there forever waiting patiently as she got her thoughts in order.
A memory came to her and she smiled.
“What was that thought?”
Harley jerked, forgetting he’d been watching her so intently. “Oh, well, you remind me of a dog we had growing up.”
“Really? This I gotta hear. I’m not sure I’ve ever been compared to a dog before, at least not in the first five minutes of meeting someone.”
Harley blushed, and looked away from his intense gaze, cursing her habit to blurt inappropriate things without thinking about what she was saying first. She hurried through the story, trying to get it over with. “It’s nothing bad, it’s just that we had a dog who was as gentle as could be, and would never start a fight. I felt one hundred percent comfortable with her being around kids, even toddlers. She’d let them poke and prod her, and even pull on her ears, but if another dog snapped at her, she was suddenly all-in, snarling and fighting as if she’d been born to do it. I always likened it to a kid dropping his bags and going whole-hog in a playground brawl.” Harley shrugged self-consciously. “That’s all.”
Coach chuckled, and luckily didn’t look offended in the least. “That’s a pretty good observation. I’m harmless, Harley. I don’t go out of my way looking to get into it with people. But I also won’t stand around and take shit from anyone, or let any of my friends take shit from others. So I guess I am like this dog of yours. When provoked, I’m one hundred percent all-in and will defend myself, or my woman, against someone else.”
Holy. Shit.
Harley nodded and wanted to change the subject. There were many times in her life when she’d wished for divine intervention to save her from awkward situations, and this was one of those times.
She looked around, seeing the other couples greeting their jumpmasters. The noise in the room had risen with every additional person who’d entered. Some were headed over to an area on the back side of the room, which had harnesses spread out on the ground. “So…I do have questions.”
“I’m happy to answer anything you can throw at me. I promise to be honest with you, and if I don’t know the answer to something, I’ll tell you rather than making something up.”
His answer surprised Harley, but she sighed in relief. She hated when people tried to pretend they knew something when it was obvious they had no clue.
“Come on, let’s go over there and get you fitted, and you can ask me what’s been whirling around in that pretty brain of yours while we do it.”
Ignoring the “pretty” comment—it was obvious this man wasn’t hurting when it came to picking up women—Harley let her questions fly as they headed over to the harness-fitting area. “What happens if the main chute doesn’t open? Will the reserve one automatically go off? Do the lines ever get tangled? What if the wind is blowing really hard, does that make it harder to steer? How do you steer? Is it like a car where if you turn right, you’ll go right? Or is it the opposite? What’s the material of the parachute made out of? Will it hold us? How much can it hold? We’re both pretty tall, does that matter? What if I decide right before we’re about to go that I can’t do it? Will you make me? What’s it like when you’re falling? Is it peaceful? Is it loud? Is it hard to breathe? What’s the highest someone can jump out of a plane? Is it harder to steer when you’re higher up?”
Harley took a breath to ask more questions, when Coach stopped her with his hands up as if defending himself from blows.
“Hang on, woman! Give me a chance to answer those before you lob more at me. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
Harley blushed and ducked her head. Dang it. She’d just been so anxious to learn as much as she could about the process, she’d just spewed out all her thoughts without thinking…again.
She felt Coach’s finger under her chin, tilting her head up to him. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love that you’re so interested in this. I’ll answer all of your questions, but maybe hit me with only a couple at a time, yeah?”
Harley nodded. “Sorry. I have a tendency to be intense when I’m interested in something. Just tell me when you’ve had enough.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, Harley.”
Coach’s words were low and even, and Harley could only look up into his hazel eyes in bewilderment. Was he…flirting with her? Her? Harley Kelso, the techie nerd? No way.
She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what, when a voice called out from across the equipment laid out on the floor in neat rows.
“Hey! It’s great the beanpole has a giant to jump with today.”
Harley turned and saw Sarah, one of the women she’d met earlier, standing with her friends and laughing at her less-than-witty comment.
The words were said in a teasing tone, but they still hurt. Harley had heard that kind of thing her entire life. She knew she was skinny and did
her best to put on weight, but some days, when she was engrossed in her work, she simply forgot to eat. On top of that, she had a naturally high metabolism, so no matter how much she seemed to eat, she never gained a pound.
She’d learned a long time ago, however, to just ignore the mean remarks. Most of the time they didn’t bother her anymore, and sometimes she even thought of a good comeback. But before she could open her mouth, Coach took a step in front of her and put his hands on his hips as he stared down the other woman.
“That was an extremely rude thing to say,” he barked out, clenching his teeth. “I don’t care that you just insulted me, but I won’t have you taking a dig at anyone else. Any of the jumpmasters here would be perfectly suited to jump with Harley, but its best to pair people up who are close in height. So you’re right, it is a good thing I’m here to jump with her today. Apologize.”
Harley froze where she stood. Coach’s back was ramrod straight and he stood in front of her with his legs shoulder width apart, as if he was ready to take a physical blow for her. She could see his shoulders rising and falling as he took quick, even breaths. He was honestly offended on her behalf. It was impossible to believe. Almost as impossible as the thought he might be flirting with her.
Harley put one hand tentatively on Coach’s back, both in thanks and to try to soothe him, and said in a soft voice, “Its okay, Coach. It’s not a big deal. She wasn’t wrong.”
He ignored her, and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Sarah to apologize.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything mean by it. I was just trying to joke around.”
Coach didn’t respond, only nodded and turned back to her, dismissing Sarah. Harley saw him take a deep breath and forcefully try to relax his shoulders.
“If the main chute doesn’t open, the reserve one will. And before you ask, the reserve chute is inspected just as the main one is, it’s the law. Additionally, the Waco Skydiving Club has AADs—Automatic Activation Devices—on every parachute. If, for some reason, the main chute isn’t deployed, and the reserve chute isn’t pulled before a preset altitude, usually around two thousand feet, it mechanically opens the reserve automatically without you or me having to do anything.”
Harley nodded, perfectly happy to put the embarrassing situation with Sarah behind her, and allowed Coach to put his hand on her lower back and lead her over to the end row of harnesses.
“As for steering, it’s fairly uncomplicated. The lines are attached to the back right and left sides of the parachute. To turn left, you pull down on the left line. To go right, you do the same on the right side. Once we’re in free fall, I’ll show you where the straps are and I’ll even let you steer for a while, so you can get a feel for it, if you want.” Coach kneeled down on the ground and fiddled with one of the harnesses, but he didn’t stop answering her earlier questions.
“The chute itself is made out of a nylon cloth, and it’s very strong. It can hold much more than just our combined weight. Free fall is exhilarating. I won’t lie, you might have a tough time breathing at first, until you get used to it—and it will be loud. We won’t be able to talk until the chute deploys. We’ll be falling around a hundred and thirty miles an hour when we first leave the plane, but once I deploy the drogue chute, the smaller chute that slows our speed, we’ll slow to around a hundred and fifteen or so. When we hit fifty-five hundred feet, I’ll pull the cord. Once I get my harness and parachute all the way on, I’ll show you where the ripcord handle is. Then when we’re out of free fall, you’ll be able to hear me and it’s like floating.”
He stood up holding a harness in his hands and his eyes met hers. “What did I miss?”
Harley was impressed. He’d segued into answering her questions after the embarrassing confrontation with Sarah without missing a beat. “How high will we be jumping from and what’s the highest altitude someone can jump out of a plane at?”
Coach held the harness out for her to step into. She did as he indicated and he answered her newest question as he worked to make sure the fit of the contraption was correct.
“Since it’s nice today, and there are seven jumpers, the pilot will probably take us up to around thirteen or fourteen thousand feet. HALO jumps can be done up to thirty thousand feet.”
“HALO?” Harley asked, assuming he wasn’t referring to the video game. The word sounded familiar, but she wasn’t sure what it stood for in his world.
“Sorry, I forget civilians don’t know all the acronyms. Stands for High Altitude, Low Opening. It means jumping out of a plane way high up, but not opening the chute until close to the ground. Soldiers use it when they’re trying to get into an area undetected. If the plane stays high enough, the ground radar can miss it, and waiting until the last possible second to deploy the chute means there’s less of a chance tangos will greet the soldiers when they land.”
Harley grabbed onto the harness that Coach was trying to tighten around her. She turned to face him. “You’re a soldier.” It wasn’t a question.
Coach nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah.”
“But you’re here.”
He grinned. He was kneeling on the ground, as it was easier to shift the harness up her hips and tighten the straps from that height. “Yeah, I had some time off and Tommy’s a friend. I’m helping out.”
Harley’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Cool.”
Coach’s hands gripped her hips and he turned her away from him again, so she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “I take it you like soldiers?”
“It’s not that,” Harley hurried to explain, not wanting him to think for even a second that she was the kind of woman who got off on going out with soldiers simply because they were soldiers. “I’m not a barracks bunny. It’s just that I’m here today because I’m trying to perfect code for a war video game I’m designing. I can’t get the parachute scene to look right. I thought if I experienced it myself, I’d have better luck.”
“Ah, and the soldier thing?”
Harley flushed, glad she wasn’t looking at Coach. “Well, I just figured…” Her voice trailed off. What had she figured? That he’d answer the million questions she had and put up with her dorkiness long enough to help make her code more realistic?
“You’re cute. I’ll answer whatever questions you have, Harley. No problem. Now, what else did you ask earlier that I didn’t answer?”
Harley smiled. Coach was being very polite. And he thought she was cute. She didn’t think she’d been categorized as cute since she was two years old. She was practical, and tall and willowy…but not cute. She probably should’ve been offended, but she simply couldn’t dredge up the energy to care.
Besides, Coach would probably run screaming in the other direction if she really asked everything she wanted to. Ideally, he’d be right there next to her as she worked on the code, but that was a pipe dream for sure. She’d have to soak up all the answers she could right now. “What if I freak out and decide that I can’t jump at the last minute?”
Coach stood up behind her and she felt him tug hard at the harness around her hips. It pulled tight against her jeans and she staggered against him and took in a startled breath. He leaned over her, which was easy for him to do since he was so much taller, and fiddled with the straps over her shoulders. “You aren’t going to freak out. I’ll be right there with you. I’ve done this hundreds of times, Harley. I’ll keep you safe. Promise.”
“But if I don’t want to do it? Will you force me?”
Coach turned her then, putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning toward her. Harley forgot about the other people in the room. She stared up into Coach’s serious face as he spoke.
“I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to. I might push, and try to convince you, but if you really decide that you can’t jump, we won’t. Once we get in the plane, you won’t get a refund, but you don’t have to take the jump. Are we clear?”
Harley nodded, relieved. She didn’t want to chicken out, but there was a
lways the possibility. Coach’s words went a long way toward making her feel better about the whole thing.
“All right then. How does this feel?” Coach tugged on the harness once more, his hands curling around the straps that ran up and over her shoulders.
Up until now, Harley had been keeping her mind away from the fact that Coach was hot, smelled delicious, and was standing closer to her than any man had in years. But his knuckles brushing against her chest as he grabbed hold of the straps reminded her of the fact that she was attracted to him. She felt her nipples bunching and tried to hunch her shoulders forward to hide the fact.
He let go with his right hand to pull on the strap that was connecting the shoulder straps across her chest. Again, his knuckles brushed against her, between her breasts this time, and she almost gasped at the sensation. She was embarrassed as all get out, knowing her damnable large nipples had to be showing through her comfortable cotton bra as she imagined how his hands would feel against her bare skin.
“I-It feels tight. Restrictive,” she stuttered out.
He nodded, as if pleased, and thankfully ignored her wobbly voice. “Good. The harness is uncomfortable, I won’t lie. It’s like rock climbing or repelling gear. It’s designed to keep you strapped to me, nice and tight. We’ll be connected in four places, two at your hips and two at your shoulders, but we won’t do that until right before we jump. When the chute goes off, plan on having a wedgie.” Coach smiled, but continued, “When I tell you, you can stand on my feet while we’re under canopy and adjust it a bit if it’s too uncomfortable.”
Harley gulped and nodded, not wanting to think about wedgies and pulling the harness out of her butt when she was attached to him. She wished he’d take his hands off her, but at the same time, wished he’d never let go.
“We want your harness snug. There’s no chance it’ll come loose while we’re in the air, but you’ll feel better if it’s tight. I think it’s good.” Coach took a step back, dropping his hands almost reluctantly. “We’ve got about fifteen or so more minutes before we load up. Do you have more questions for me?”