“I’ll give you a push. On three. One…two…three.”
I kicked and stretched while a large hand clasped my ass and shoved, and finally, I grasped the handle on the far side with my torso hanging across the kayak like a suspension bridge. “Now what?”
“Lever up with your arms and pull in your legs. Do you need me to push again?”
“You call that a push?” Now that I was mostly safe from snakes, giddy accomplishment bubbled in my chest. “That was a full-on ass-grab. I’m definitely telling Stan.”
“Tell Stan. I don’t give a fuck as long as you don’t drown.”
“Aw.” As instructed, I levered and tucked, and one awkward flop later, I was back in the kayak. “Watch out, or I’ll think you care. Need a hand?”
There was a splash and a stomach-lurching tip, then his weight settled into the back of the boat. “Nah, I got it. You okay?”
I twisted to face him, more slowly than I’d done before we tipped. He was as wet as I was, and his shirt stuck to his upper arms. I’d never noticed before how impressive his shoulders were. It was like two slabs of marble up there. I wasn’t cold, but I shivered. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’m great. Perfect. Soaked through again.”
“Itisthe rainy season,” I said.
“Bridget.” His eyebrows lowered. “This isn’t rain. And it’s your fault.”
“Look, I’m sorry. But you’re the one who picked me. You could’ve left Gina and me to get drenched and stayed dry yourself.”
He harrumphed.
I tilted my head to listen: birdsong, the faint roar of a howler monkey, frogs chirping, but no guide’s voice. “Do you know which way to the rest of the group?”
He scanned the river around us. I’d gotten turned around underwater, and all of it looked the same: dense jungle as far as I could see.
“Let’s paddle that way.” He pointed to the right.
We paddled a few hundred yards, but it was more of the same, empty, tree-lined water.
“Gina!” I shouted. “Marco!”
“Who the fuck is Marco?” Cole asked.
“Our guide.”
“No, our guide is Manuel.”
“Is not.”
“He absolutely is.”
“I hired him,” I said smugly. “I should know.”
“You probably picked up one of those brain-eating amoebas in the water. It’s Manuel.”
“Whatever. I know Gina will answer me if I call her. Gina!”
Only the screech of a hawk answered us.
After a few more minutes of fruitless calling and paddling, I asked, “Are we lost?”
I heard the clench of his jaw when he said, “I’m afraid so.”
“Time to whip out those Eagle Scout survival skills,” I said. “Bear Grylls always said to stop and think when you get lost.”
