16
Jack
Something’s up with David. Instead of sitting next to me up on the bridge as I take the boat out of the cove, he stays down below. He’s got a giant stack of papers with him, and instead of sitting with me as we motor out, he paces anxiously outside, reading it. A couple of times, he nearly falls as the boat bounces, but his balance seems to be better than mine, because he always braces or grabs for a rail at the right moment.
There’s a whole spread of breakfast things in the cabin. They brought it down right before David showed up, so I assume he ordered it. Pastries, fresh fruit, these little roll ups with egg and ham and cheese that have to be lukewarm already, but no one gave me any instructions for how to keep them hot. In any case, they go untouched. David stays outside reading and pacing.
Guess the kissing is on hold for now. Probably for the best, but I gotta admit I’m a bit pissed about it. I was ready to stick my neck out for him, and now suddenly he’s got other things on his mind. Stef would probably tell me to get my head out of my ass, but I don’t understand what’s happening, and the emotional whiplash leaves me grumpy.
Since the plan has apparently changed, the least I can do is my job. We round a point of land and come alongside a wide bay. It’s one of the officially designated fishing spots on the Wild Eagle recreation guide, and I had planned to avoid it to prove a point, but it’s as good as anything. The winds are coming from the southeast, so they’ll keep us from drifting too close to shore. I kill the engine and climb down from the bridge.
“Should I set up the rods?” I ask.
David glances up from his papers, squinting around him like he’s surprised to see we’ve stopped. “What? Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
His answer only fuels my annoyance. I don’t know what I thought would happen today. That we’d get out of sight of the lodge and sneak into the woods to fuck like bunnies? The whole authentic Alaskan experience? Okay, yeah, I know what I was hoping for, but it’s not like I have a right to be pissed that it’s not working out that way. It was never a good idea.
I rig up the gear, but even though it’s only the two of us, no matter where I am on the boat, David seems to be there too. He’s still pacing with his head down, muttering to himself, and whether I’m at a locker or setting a rod, he’s in my way, bumping into me and generally being a nuisance.
“Do you mind?” I ask.
He glances up. “Sorry, what?”
“Forget it.” I grab the bait bucket, turn, and he’s there again. We collide, David’s arms tangling with the bucket and our feet catching against each other, and the next thing I know, David’s wearing a couple of gallons of salmon heads and fish guts.
“What?” he asks like he doesn’t understand what happened. Pink fish flesh splats down onto his shoes. His shirt and the front of his jeans are soaking through. Whatever he’s been reading is ruined.
“I’m so sorry.” I reach for him, then catch myself. His mouth is open, and he drops the papers, slowly raising his hands from his sides like evenhedoesn’t want to touch himself.
“Is that—”
“I’ve got dry clothes in the cabin.” Except I don’t, because we used all the spare shirts the other day when we got caught in the rain, and despite all their efforts at superior customer service, it looks like no one remembered to replace them. I guess he could sop up some of the mess with the pastries we haven’t eaten.
When I come back out, he’s got his shirt off. His back is to me, and the muscles ripple along his spine. I want to run my hands over them even with the pungent odor wafting from his general direction.
“What’s the water temperature?” He’s got his hands on his hips and squints toward shore while his hair falls in his face. It is unfair for one person to be so attractive, even when they smell like week-old salmon.
“About forty-five. Why?”
He nods and unbuckles his belt. “I can do that.”
“David? What are you doing?”
He shucks off his jeans. His ass is framed in blue-gray boxer briefs the color of the sky, and the sight of them has me rooted to my spot, which is why I don’t do anything when he glances once over his shoulder, says, “Haul me in quick, okay?” then reaches for the rail and throws himself overboard.
“Jesus Christ!” My feet unstick themselves in an instant, and I rush forward, but I’m too late. All I get is a face full of seawater as the splash comes up over the side. I can’t see him in the water. It’s all dark slate and bubbles.
Harper is going to kill me.
A white shape appears like a halibut rising to the surface, except it’s David. His head comes up, and he flings water from his hair as he gasps.
“Holy shit, that’s freezing!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I reach over and he grabs at my arm. The water that soaks through my jacket is painfully cold.
“It seemed like the thing to do,” he says with a smile. He kicks his legs, and I don’t pull him in so much as he hoists himself up and back over the side. His skin is so pink it’s almost red, and his underwear clings to his body. Despite his grin, he curls in on himself and starts shivering the second I get him into the boat.
“That was unbelievably dangerous. The shock could have given you a heart attack.”
