Wyatt pulled into the parking lot at Lobster Bay, the rainbow-colored hot air balloon filling the morning in front of him.
“Wyatt,” Deirdre said, her eyes glued to the balloon out the window. “Are we going up in that thing?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Just you and me. A sunrise flight.” He opened his door and got out of the car. Deirdre met him at the front …
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