“No, but—” She ponders for a beat. “I could work on the house.”
“Are you going to fix the roof by yourself?”
Eliza squints, confused. “How did you—”
I won’t tell her I jog past the house, checking on the progress in a twisted countdown of how much time I still have with her. The roof is half-done, and she can’t do anything until they put the drywall inside.
A frustrated “I can’t believe this” trails behind me as we head for the car, and I smile to myself like a fool.
The wicked smirk she flashes once we leave is not a good sign, but at this point, I’d base jump into an active volcano just to spend more time with her. It all clicks when she grinds the old truck to a stop near a long dock. An old, weathered sea loft—Norman Boat Yard—looms over the boats swinging in the breeze.
I follow her to a small kiosk hiding behind the dark wood building. “Kayak Adventure” is painted in blue letters on a piece of wood you’d fish out of the water.
“Tandem please!” She bends over the counter to yell at the person in the back and it’s impossible not to stare at her ass. It’s the type you want to sink your teeth into.
Eliza throws me a life jacket and skips along with the man carrying the red kayak, chatting with an ease that makes me jealous. With us, there’s always a push and pull, tiptoeing on shaky ground. As much as I want to get closer to her, there’s an equal force holding me back.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“I worked as a guide during the summer in high school. I’ll make sure you don’t accidentally fall to the depths of the Atlantic Ocean,” she answers breezily, with a suspicious stress on the wordaccidentally.
I enjoy her confidence too much to tell her I grew up kayaking at the yacht club. Maybe the only fun activity I was allowed to do.
I continue to play dumb as she explains how to climb in my seat. I prefer to listen to her voice and take in this unrestrained version of her. To let her fix my life jacket the right way so I can feel her hands onme.
Pathetic.
We glide smoothly away from the dock into the bay’s waters.
“Focus on using your core muscles or your arms will get tired.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say sarcastically.
She looks over her shoulder and the glint of mischief in her eyes flares before she swishes the paddle over the surface of the water and splashes me with a mouthful of chilly May water.
“I’m in charge here. There are strong currents out along the coast,” she says sternly. “You’re my responsibility and I want to get you back safely. Please…take it seriously.”
It dawns on me she is really worried about me and it’s my fault she thinks I’m useless in a kayak. I’m already on thin ice with her, I won’t risk making her feel foolish for wasting so much time explaining things I already know.
I answer in earnest, “Tell me what to do.”
She is satisfied with my cooperation, and we continue to paddle out of the harbor, gliding over the ocean waves toward the jagged outline of the Maine coastline. She tells me a well-practiced history of the old oceanfront buildings. I can imagine a younger, sun-kissed Eliza, excited to meet new people, telling them about the tidal lagoons, hidden passages, and secret inlets. Pointing to birds and sea creatures.
I ask her questions so I can hear her voice over the seagulls and the water lapping on the side of the kayak.
In the spring light, her eyes are golden, and she vibrates with energy. Her body moves with such precision and poise. She’sbreathtaking.
The fine hairs at the back of her neck pull my focus to the junction with her shoulder. It looks like the perfect spot to press my lips.
The list of reasons I shouldn’t imagine how her skin would taste after hours spent on the open sea taunts me.
I don’t know if I can trust her. She just ended an eight-year relationship. She’s not the casual type.
It doesn’t help I haven’t had sex in a very long time and she is a fantasy come to life. A sweet small-town girl with a body I want to pin to the nearest flat surface. Her husky voice in the morning messing with my head.
She’s also not the type of woman my father envisioned for me.
“You didn’t need that Laura.” He said her name with a disgusted curl of his lip. “When the time comes, we’ll find a suitable wife for the Rawlings name.”
