"We'll just tell Milana this was a bridge too far."
Beside me, Sebastian snorted. When I turned a glare in his direction, he said, "It's funny. There are bridges on either side of us. I'm as shocked as anyone that you said something passably humorous." When I went on glaring at him, he continued, "We're here. It's the first thing in the fucking morning and it's bright as hell but we're here so let's get it over with. Why not? We only have to get from here to there." He gestured down the Charles River toward the Longfellow Bridge and the docks located immediately before it. "See? Here are the instructions Milana left. 'Cross the river to get to the other side.' Easy. It will take half an hour, tops."
I blinked at him, completely unconvinced. "Do you even know how to swim or do you rely on that ego for buoyancy?"
"Do I know how to swim?" he muttered. "I'm from Florida. Of course I know how to swim."
I eyed him with a touch of wary amusement. "Being from Florida can mean many things, Stremmel. No guarantees in that."
"Well then, Miss Quippy Questions, doyouknow how to swim?" He started down the dock, not waiting for my reply.
"Yes," I called. "I'm from Southern California."
"That explains a few things," he tossed over his shoulder.
"Why are you so excited to get in a little boat on freezing water with me?" I said to his back. "You're uncharacteristically eager to do this."
"Because it will be quick, and if we don't do it, we'll piss away another weekend morning with a different activity."
"But that activity won't involve a canoe—or kayak—or whatever the hell this thing is," I said with a gesture toward the two-seated boat at the end of the dock.
"But I am already out of bed," he growled back. I had to swallow hard to keep from feeling that growl inside me. "And I don't want to give up another weekend morning. I cherish my bedtime."
The image of a sleepy Sebastian swaddled in blankets and morning sunlight was not one I needed at the moment. Still, it was the one I got.
"Here." Sebastian shoved a life vest in my direction. "Put this on."
"Since when are you in charge of this exercise?"
"I'm not getting into another endless debate with you," he said. "Put on the vest. Get in the boat. Shut the hell up."
"You can wait a damn minute," I said, digging in my bag. "Give me your phone."
"If I wanted to chuck it in the river, I'd do it myself, thanks."
"Give me your phone," I repeated. "If we flip this boat like I think we will, I'd rather not lose my phone in the process. See?" I held up a reusable silicone pouch. "They'll float and stay dry."
He glared at the pouch as he handed over his device. "You had croutons in there the other day."
"You're going to have to choose, Stremmel. Crouton crumbs or river water. Can't make that choice for you."
He sighed as he cast a scowl over the water. "I'm too old for this shit."
"You're not wrong about that," I said as I secured the items in my bag.
"You think I'm old?"
"I think you crave attention and often get it through self-deprecating means." I zipped my fleece jacket all the way up to my chin. "Aren't you supposed to be in the boat? What are you waiting for?"
He turned that dark-eyed scowl on me, the one that should've tripped all my frantic people-pleasing alarms but only hit me with the buzz of a challenge. I didn't have to rescue anyone from those scowls, least of all me, not when I could stand toe to toe against them. He could yell and growl and complain all he wanted. It didn't scare me. It didn't even bother me—and that made hardly any sense at all.
Sharp words and a scowl of that magnitude should've sent cold panic through my veins yet all I could feel was the absolute certainty that I had nothing to fear. That scowl was the least threatening thing in the world. Not only that but I was firmly in control here.
"All right, Shap," he grumbled. "Get that fucking vest on, would you?"
It didn't takethirty minutes to get across the river. It took us thirty minutes to push off from the dock and point the boat in the right direction.
On most days, I took pleasure in Sebastian being wrong. This was not one of those days.
