I had seen a similar look on Jackson’s face after he and Chloe had been playing water volleyball. I knew he wanted her.
Did Étienne want me?
Does he want me now?
I stare at his broad shoulders glistening in the sunshine and get that restless feeling again in the pit of my stomach.
The day wearson. We take our time, stopping often to cool down in the water. At one point we pass a naturist campsite and I can’t help quipping, “Was this your plan all along? To bring me out here and get me naked?”
“If I wanted to get you naked, I could think of better ways,” he replies in a low, deep voice.
My heart jackrabbits.
We stop soon after that for one last break before our final stretch. While I’m brushing my fingers through my hair, trying to detangle it, Étienne searches through the waterproof barrel.
“I keep meaning to ask,” I say as he pulls out his phone and unlocks it. “Have you signed the contract?”
“Not yet,” he replies distractedly.
“Jackson brought it up yesterday.”
“Merde,”he swears.
“What is it?”
“A truck has crashed into a bus on the road.” He looks up from his phone, his brows drawn together. “I don’t think anyone has been seriously hurt, but it’ll take hours to clear before Raphaël will be able to get through to us. We’re supposed to be off the river by six. No tourists have done the thirty-K route today so he’s just coming for us.”
“Shit.” I repeat his curse in English.
“I want to tell him to turn around and go home to his girlfriend,” he says hesitantly.
“Which would mean what for us?”
“He’ll collect us in the morning.” He stares at me for a long moment before asking: “How do you feel about wild camping?”
25
We’re not supposed to wildcamp, but we passed the two bivouacs where wecouldhave stayed a while back, and as we’re not erecting a tent, Étienne doesn’t think anyone will notice us on the banks of the river.
We do our best to hide his bright yellow kayak though, shoving it as far under leafy bush cover as we can manage.
I text Mellie to let her know what’s happening, but don’t bother to message Jackson. I should make it to work on time in the morning, as long as the traffic has cleared by then. Raphaël is intending to meet us at the take-out point near Saint-Martin-d’Ardèche at 6 a.m.
I’m very glad of the change of clothes Étienne encouraged me to bring, including a hoodie and leggings, and I’m grateful that he went overboard with picnic supplies too. We still have half a baguette, crisps, cheese, and two big bottles of water so at least we won’t starve or die of thirst out here.
“Where will we sleep?” I ask.
“Here on the sand. Easier to see what’s around.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask twitchily.
“Well, there are wild boars and scorpions so—”
“Are you serious?” I ask, my voice jumping up several keys.
“It’s fine, Grace,” he replies calmly.
I gawp at him and he lets out a small laugh, coming closer. I’m tense as he places his hands on my shoulders. And then something happens to me that I wasn’t expecting: Imelt.
