Instead of answering, he tipped himself sideways, flipping out of his kayak.
She swore, and it wasn’t under her breath in the last. “Damn it, Frank, what are youdoing?”
He probably only heard the last bit when he resurfaced, but he was grinning again.
Why did she like that so much? She barely knew the man.
Don’t need to know him to be empathetic to his situation.Fair enough. So it was nice to see Sad, Angry Neighbor a little bit happy. And now soaking wet, and still happy. That was a sign of good mental health, surely.
He grabbed his kayak and his oar. Unlike the death grip she had on everything, he touched them loosely, keeping them close, but not appearing to worry about them floating away.
Maybe she should relax.
Maybe, but it wasn’t happening.
“This is harder in the ocean, if that’s any consolation,” he said over his shoulder before flipping his kayak back right-side-up like it weighed nothing. “You do that with yours now.”
“It’s pretty hard in a lake,” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed her grip and tried to push the kayak over. It floated away a few feet—still face down. “See?”
“Try again, and this time, give it a pop.”
She’d give him a pop right on the noggin. Rolling her eyes, she kicked over to her kayak and got her fingers under the edge. Pop, huh? Fine. One, two, three—
She heaved it up in the air and it flipped over like magic, none the worse for wear.
“That was just lucky.” She looked over at him.
“Nothing to do with luck. Next step is to get up and on top of your craft. I’m going to do it first, and then you give it a go when you’re feeling rested. No rush through any step. Once you get up on top of it, stay there and don’t move.”
“What do you mean, on top of it?”
He stretched one of his arms across the seat, to the far side of his kayak. “Like this.” As if he had a portable trampoline under him, he burst out of the water like a dolphin, launching himself to lay across his kayak, tummy down.
Except Frank definitely didn’t have a tummy. He had abs of steel—she imagined.Don’t imagine his abs,she tried to tell herself.Also, get the #@!*$ up on the kayak.She didn’t listen to either of those excellent suggestions. Instead she looked at her unlikely camp friend. Even in regular shorts and a t-shirt and soaking wet from a dunk in the lake he hadn’t needed to make, he looked really good. Tight ass, long muscular legs. Those imagined abs, still bracing against his kayak. Took a lot of trunk strength to get himself up there, she bet.
He grabbed his oar and turned his kayak around so he could see her—and all in a single pull. “Everything okay over there?”
“Yep,” she muttered. She dragged in a deep breath. Up and over and onto the kayak. She could do this. She had the advantage of a life jacket, after all. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. She reached across to the handle on the far side and—
Up, she screamed in her head.
Her body didn’t respond.
Unlike Frank, her upper body strength was that of a perfectly normal fifty-something-year-old. Namely, it was wholly inadequate for this particular task. “Nope,” she said out loud. “Not going to happen.”
“Scissor kick as you pull up. Don’t make your arms do all the work. Your legs are much stronger.”
She snorted, but tried it, and of course, he was right. She didn’t get all the way up, but she got a pop. She sank back into the water, but not for long. With another deep breath, she tried again, and this time, she was up, and before the kayak could tip her—no thank you—she leaned her weight forward and flopped like a fish across her craft.
With her bottom pointed right at Frank.
And she wasn’t wearing shorts.
Kill me now, she thought. She didn’t mind her body in a bathing suit. Or out of it, for that matter. With the right person. Normal looking people her own age who also had average bodies. Not Sad, Angry “Defying Gravity Since I985” Neighbor. Frank “How Many Chin Ups Can You Do? I Can Do More” Whatever His Last Name Was.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Just fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic,” she said, projecting her voice.
