Noah’s voice dropped low, barely above a whisper as he worked. “Keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and the whole damn bus is gonna figure us out.” And then, with a little tug. “Is that too tight?”
“A little?” But that was all I could say, because…hey, when his knuckles grazed the top of my chest, I had to fight off the urge to snag the straps of his lifejacket and pull him down to kiss me.
Of course, that would be counterproductive, seeing as the other members of our tour were wandering around in the nearby area, and also, I needed this life jacket to fit me properly.
I was an ocean girl.
Saltwater. Waves. Tides that would pull and return.
Rivers were…different. Even though this one looked smooth and almost glassy on the surface, I couldn’t help but wonder what it looked like underneath, or around the next bend.
The memory of that whitewater back in Glenwood Canyon was making me tense.
This was the same river, after all.
The corner of Noah’s mouth twitched as he loosened one of the buckles. “You ready for this?”
I thought for a second, and then I realized I wasn’t afraid like I thought I would be. I was excited.
For a little float trip, tame enough that people twice my age were participating.
But still.
“I feel…” How long had it been since I’d felt so free? So… “Limitless.”
I didn’t say it to get his approval, but I wouldn’t deny how I loved seeing that look in his eyes.
“Let’s do this then.” He gave one of the straps one last tug, finally satisfied, and then stepped back.
“Are you always like this?” I asked.
“Like what?”
I flicked my hands over the life jacket. “Safety guy. Protective. Watching out for everyone else.” I mean, this guy was one of the most caring, protective people I’d ever had the honor of knowing. With his mom. With the people on the tour. And Noah, he was the only one who called Joey “Joe.”
Then there was way he treated me…
How on earth had I misjudged him so badly on that plane?
“Safety guy?” He folded his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the tree providing our precious shade.
“Is that a bad thing?” he asked.
“No! Not at all.” I stood up straight. “I just wonder… Is that Noah Noah, or is it Doctor Noah? You don’t have to be on all the time, you know. You aren’t responsible for everyone.” But then I remembered how he’d stepped right in to help Roger… Maybe, he kind of did. If he hadn’t been there, who would have handed him the aspirin? And Roger might not have made it to the hospital…
That was a lot of pressure.
Before he could answer, our guide approached, along with a few stragglers. Our rafting guide was exactly the kind of guy you would picture in the role—mid-twenties with shoulder-length brownish-blond hair tied in a messy ponytail, pierced ears, and darkly tanned skin that ended in crisp tan lines that only just peeked out from under his shoes and shirt sleeves. Mostly ignoring us for now, he led the people he’d brought along over to the pile of life jackets and began helping them sort through it.
A couple different guides were assigned to our group, since each boat could only fit maybe seven or eight people at a time. Babs had already dragged Mrs. Grady off to join the same crochet group that had formed when the first bus broke down, leaving Noah and me to form a group with the youngish family of four that had just been brought over—a mother and father and their two boisterous sons, who looked to be a little older than Blakey and Max.
Once they had finished putting on their life jackets, our guide gave one last tug to one of the boys’ straps and turned to look up at all of us together.
“Sup, everyone,” he said. “My name’s Cody, and, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m going to be your guide on the river today. Now we’re probably not gonna see much more than some roller waves—I know, right? Whoo. Scary—but…” He pointed a stern finger at each of us in turn. “That does not mean you should neglect your safety. A river’s a powerful thing, and it deserves your respect at all times.”
Cody then went into what sounded like a very well-rehearsed safety speech, describing things like what to do if the boat flipped over or how to position yourself if you fell in the water, along with the definitions of a few unfamiliar terms for some of the items on and in the raft. But then the two boys started pestering him with questions, each one proposing a more outlandish scenario than the last. Cody indulged them for a while, but as he did, I noticed the other boats gradually departing ahead of us, one by one, until we were the only ones left on the little beach.
“We…don’t really get hurricanes in Utah.” The guide looked toward the boys’ parents, but they were lounging on the side of the raft, chatting away about some nosy neighbor or something back home. “Or tornadoes, or—hey! Don’t mess with that.”
