I can’t help sneaking a peek at him with a semblance of awe. My chest is all warm and fuzzy when I think about that simple movement, taking the potential fall for me. Protecting me? Maybe that’s a stretch. But the little feeling that worms its way into my heart when I think about the sentiment is a hell of a lot more than physical.
‘Alright, campers, we’re gonna go canoe by canoe!’ Benny proclaims. ‘Three to a team!’
‘COACHES VERSUS KIDS!’ one particularly feral camper yells and, before we know it, it’s a war cry among our young charges. The lifeguard on duty is very poorly concealing a grin. Benny looks absolutely horrified. I agree. These kids are going to sink us – literally. The objective of the game is to dump as much water as possible into your opponents’ canoe until it essentially capsizes, and now that we’ve been dragged into the game, it promises to be a blowout match. Even though we will inevitably lose, I can’t keep away from the water much longer.
‘You guys are on!’ Rod shouts back. They erupt into cheers. He just beams, crossing his arms over his strong chest. ‘We gotta make them regret this, guys.’
‘We’re so sold,’ whispers Benny before unhooking the first canoe from its ropes and shoving it into the water. Then, to our wild crowd, ‘First three campers!’
We manage to get all our kids in the water in ten boats. Ours is the eleventh, which Benny lowers into the water till it hits with a satisfying slap. Benny holds up a big paint bucket. ‘Who’s going to be our attacker? Rod?’
Rod doesn’t turn down his proposed post. He accepts the bucket with a knowing smile. Benny effortlessly hops right into the canoe first, picking up the ‘shield’ (a literal yoga mat). The water sloshes along its sides as he finds a good spot, patting the space in front of him. ‘C’mon, guys.’
‘Wait, so you’re dumping the water and you’ve got the shield!’ My voice comes out just as panicked as I am when I gesture to Rod and Benny respectively. ‘So I-I can be the ref!’
‘Not quite.’ Rod shoots me a pointed glare and presses something into my hands. ‘You’re long range.’
I look down. It’s a tube water blaster, the kind where you push and a jet of water comes out the top. Long range my ass.
‘I guess I know how you felt with that horse now,’ I practically shudder as I get into the canoe with one unsteady foot. The boat wobbles beneath me. Not exactly the reassuring feeling I need to get into the water.
Fingers brush my waist from behind me.
I suck in a breath. I feel like the world’s most colossal idiot, but Rod guiding me isn’t the worst thing in the world. Any excuse for him to touch me, actually. Those are the finer things in my life.
We eventually get all situated in our canoe. Immediately, the campers start booing and shaking their respective water guns at us.
‘Does anyone have any last words?’ asks Benny, raising his whistle to his lips.
‘These kids are going to kill us,’ I say.
We aren’t the first boat to go down, which is a good sign. After taking out about five canoes, we nearly eat it at the hands of Jake, Josh, and Nathan, but sink them instead. My fear of water fades into the background when the thrill of the competition takes over. Buckets fly everywhere, canoes thump against canoes, and campers are absolutely screaming. At the end of it, we are left head-to-head with the Middle School Girl Canoe, consisting of Lyla and two of her sixth-grade friends. We don’t stand a chance. Our canoe capsizes before we can even get our shield up, and the Middle School Girl Canoe is dubbed the champion.
The gentle lap of water against the wood of my canoe threatens to put me to sleep. Since when? Maybe Canoe Battleship cured my oceanic woes. But more likely, it’s that my brain is busy being hyper-alert because of something else. I roll over to my belly in the canoe, and peer out at the six-foot-plus Greek god in his own canoe across from me. He lies on his back with … is that his phone? A smile traces its way across his face.
‘We get the entire pool to ourselves after getting absolutely demolished by children,’ I call out, ‘and you’re watching TikToks?’
‘What?’ Rod’s head snaps over in surprise. Holy shit. He’s not holding his phone.
‘Oh my gosh.’ Now I’m the one who can’t help but smile. ‘Is that a Kindle?’
‘Don’t be mean.’ Rod tucks his e-reader out of sight in defence and, even from feet away, I can see the bridge of his nose going guiltily red. ‘I like it. Reading, I mean.’
‘Really?’ My next words are, in fact, rapid-fire ammo. ‘I feel like I don’t know all that much about you.’
My big mouth. Should I correct with some shitty statement about how people aren’t supposed to know much about one another in casual relationships, anyway? Whatever I say, it’d be a lie. Something in my chest aches to know more about him. The reading piques my attention. His family’s farm, his fear of horses, his daughter. It all does.
Fuck. I need someone to pinch me back to reality. Beyond ‘casual’ isn’t really a Gutierrez capability. Our taste in men certainly isn’t. And yeah, it’s nice being free of the ranch, doing whatever I want with whoever I want, but that’s just all it is. It’s fun. Making it more than that never ends well.
Except stupid Rod decides he wants to go and toe the line, because he says, ‘I feel like I don’t know all that much about you, either.’
My guard goes up right away. My fortitude, my oversize boxing gloves. I’m ready to snap. ‘I …’
Rod’s canoe is close enough now that he can touch the side of mine. His dark, deep eyes lock onto mine. ‘Tell me something,’ he says. ‘And you can dump a bucket of water in my canoe. After I get the Kindle out of here,’ he adds quickly.
I purse my lips. Tell me somethinghasn’t really been my style. Ever. But it’s something about him that provokes the words anyway. ‘Um.’ I trace a groove in the wood of the canoe. ‘I only like to eat my mac n’ cheese in bread bowls.’
‘Weird.’ He grins, tapping my bucket. ‘Go ahead.’
