Sharing that mug of rye had taken him right back to thatnight in the library. Would he ever be able to drink rye and not think of her now?
Rye? Check.
Coconut? Check.
Jamaican coffee? Check.
Black lace bras and purple vibrators?
Stop, stop, stop!Ford didn’t have time for this. If they were going to be heading out on a raft tomorrow, he needed to plan. Plot a route. Pack supplies. Strategize with the expedition team.
Bringing Corrie along wouldn’t help with the hard-on that felt ready to unleash at any moment, but he’d meant it when he said he really couldn’t scout new locations without her.
He stayed up late that night, plotting out their course and packing supplies. They’d take five people total in the pickup truck to the drop-in spot up the river. Jon, Guillermo, Corrie, and Ford to go on the actual trek. Lance would then drive the truck back to camp. He’d originally volunteered to go with them down the river, and as much as Ford would have enjoyed the friendly face, when someone had teased Lance for not being able to swim, Ford had told him he had to stay back. They couldn’t have that kind of potential liability on their hands in case the boat tipped over or he fell out.
By the time they got to the drop-in location, they’d likely only have time to paddle to the first potential dig site. The one that was the farthest from camp. For many reasons, Ford hoped that would be the site. It would mean not only that they’d found it and could start digging but also that his rafting plan had been the right call.
At least he could have one adventure before having to call it a day and pack for home.
From there, depending on how much light they had left, they’d either keep going or set up camp. The next day, they’d paddle to the other two locations before pulling out of the river at the third spot. It would be a bitch hiking from the river back to camp with all their gear, so they packed light—the barest minimum of tools, four individual tents that weighed less than three pounds each, and one small dry bag of clothes and essentials per person. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but comfort wasn’t exactly the point.
“Okay, Dr. Matthews, this is it. You can still change your mind,” Lance said as the rest of them unloaded the truck and pumped up the raft.
“We’re good, Lance. If we’re not back in three days, send someone to search for us.”
“Will do.”
They tossed any unnecessary items into the truck before Lance took off, and soon the four of them were all alone.
Ready for an adventure.
Ford had been rafting before, but he was hardly what would be considered a pro. And Guillermo and Jon had each been on a rafting trip, but never without a guide or an instructor. Unsurprisingly, Corrie knew a thing or two about rafting. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do? She went over a few techniques. Gave some other instructions. And then they packed up their raft and set out on the river.
She looked cute over there, sitting across from him on the raft in her khaki shorts and life jacket. Her legs had a smooth sheen to them. Ford could only imagine how soft they were and how comfy it would be to nestle between them. It was the most he’d ever seen of her skin, and he had a hard time looking away.
Did she have this effect on all men? He’d never heard her talk about a significant other. In fact, he had no clue if she was seeing anyone. If he had to guess, he’d say no. There were a few times yesterday that had seemed like flirting, but he couldn’t be sure. Ford was so out of practice ever since Addy left and all his focus had gone toward his mom’s health that he didn’t even rememberhowto flirt. He thought he’d felt something when he’d been holding her hand. A magnetism pulling them closer. If he’d had confirmation on her availability, he might have made a move. But if he’d been wrong... Well, knowing Corrie, it wouldn’t have been pretty. So he let the moment pass.
Like the last time.
Besides, talking had been nice. And not just talking to anybody, because it had been a long time since he’d done that, too. But specifically talking with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.
Or smiled when talking about his dad.
He had to admit, he’d woken up this morning without the seething anger typically present when he thought about his dad. Not that the anger wasn’t still there. But it wasn’t as intense as it had been these last few years. Maybe there was something to Corrie’s theory: allowing himself to miss his dad might help ease the resentment.
Ford just hoped that wasn’t the only theory of Corrie’s that would work out on this trip.
“We’re getting close to the first spot,” Corrie said, glancing at the map, which was folded into a ziplock bag to keep it from getting wet. “Let’s pull out there.”
They paddled to a low bank on the river and dragged the raft onto the land. The area surrounding them looked much thesame as it did near camp—wooded and untouched by humans. Hopefully not completely untouched, though. It would be nice if Chimalli had spent some time in these parts.
Ford went over the plan one more time while they situated themselves at the boat, ditching the life jackets and changing shoes.
“All right... let’s split up. Dr. Mejía and I will take the ridge over there,” Ford said pointing to a steep incline about a hundred yards away. “You two look for a cave somewhere nearby.”
“What if it’s on the other side of the river?” Jon asked.
“It won’t be,” Corrie chimed in. “Mendoza said that whenever they feared they were in danger, they would run to the cave, meaning it has to be accessible from the same side of the river as the bowl.”
