907 For Keeps Way (Cherry Falls)

“I don’t know why.”

I take my paddle out of the water. The kayak turns a little bit. I scoot to one side, praying we don’t capsize, and look at Dane.

He’s watching me with concern etched over his face and I’m not sure if it’s for me for feeling the way I do or for himself because he’s afraid I’m about to blow a gasket. What I also can’t work out is why he’s asking me this.

Dane is a personal trainer, so why hasn’t he brought up nutrition—I hope he doesn’t—or the necessity of exercise—again, a preferred no—and all things fitness? So far, we’ve only discussed me, my failed marriage … and love.

Why?

“Look, Kaylee, you are an intelligent woman. An intelligent, spunky, beautiful woman.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks at me. “Whatever you feel, you feel. You don’t have to feel guilty about that.”

Suddenly, the life jacket is too tight. The sun is too hot. The space between Dane and me is filled with the electricity that I felt before we got into this freaking kayak.

I unlatch my belt and stand.

“Kaylee, wait. Slow down,” Dane warns.

“I just need some air.”

I turn around but as soon as I twist, the kayak wobbles.

“Oh!” I say, bending to grab the side.

Dane grips the sides with both hands, but as I move one way, the kayak moves the other. The topsy-turvy of it all sends a streak of panic through my body, and I try to stand again.

And fall over the side and into the water.

Five

Kaylee

The water is cold.

That’s my first thought as I hit the surface. My second thought is a quick assessment of the likelihood of sharks being in the water. It’s ridiculous and pointless since there are no sharks in Kissme Bay, but the little girl who lives somewhere inside my head chooses this moment to pop out with her fears.

Buoyed by the life jacket that’s now pressing up against my face, I wipe strands of hair off my cheek.

Dane sits in the kayak chuckling.

“You, Mr. McDaniels, just terminated our verbal contract,” I say, blowing out a piece of water debris.

He rests his elbows on his knees, grinning. “How do you figure?”

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh at me.”

“Eh, don’t think I did. I promised you I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do. I said nothing about not being amused if you fall out of a kayak.” His features soften. “Are you all right?”

My feet kick back and forth underwater. The chill has either eased or I’ve gotten used to it because now, under the heat of the sun, the water feels pretty good.

And, strangely, so do I.

“Well, my pride has taken a hit, but I think I’ll live,” I say, grinning.

“Good to hear.”

“Why is that?”

“It’ll make telling this story easier later if you live.”

He reaches a hand in my direction as if he’s somehow going to haul me back into the kayak. I’m not sure if that’s even possible, but I’m not about to try it. There are so many things that could go wrong that would make this story more embarrassing later.

As his fingers dangle in the air, something comes over me. It’s a blip of spontaneity, a shock of fun, and I grab his hand. Instead of letting him pull me toward the kayak, I jerk as hard as I can. It sends him tumbling over the side and into the water too.

My laughter is broken by the splash.

I kick my feet to inch myself away from him just in case he surfaces, and things don’t go my way.

He blows out a hasty breath, running his hands over his head and then across his eyes. My laughter dances along the water.

As his sight sets on me, I’m relieved to see humor alight in them.

“Is this what we’re doing?” he asks, his voice permeated with amusement.

“You looked hot. Thought I’d cool you off a little.”

His smile stretches from ear to ear. A water droplet slides down his cheek, over his jaw, and then down his neck to the water. It’s almost as if it’s taunting me or showcasing how gorgeous he is. The spotlight isn’t needed.

“If that’s how things work,” he says, moving slowly my way, “I would’ve tossed you in as soon as you got to the dock.”

My throat tightens. All of my senses heighten. My stomach pulls in a way that takes me aback. I’ve forgotten how this feels.

His gaze is heavy on me as he swims slowly to me. The look in his eyes is playful, friendly—yet seductive. It’s dizzying.

I’m not sure how to respond to him. I don’t want to have taken his words the wrong way.

He stops beside me at the kayak, his arm brushing against mine. Our gazes lock together.

“Bet you’re thinking you should've just kept me at the gym today, huh?” I say to lighten the mood.