No Gentle Giant (A Small Town Romance)

“Then I need to face them,” she says firmly with a touch of brave pride that makes admiration flare in my chest. “But if there’s nothing here, then you dragged this humongous crane up here for nothing.”

“Not for nothing. Got camping gear, fishing tackle, a cooler full of beer, and a pretty girl. Sounds like a nice weekend to me.” I thump the back window of the cab, where the crane’s just a blot of yellow in my peripheral vision. “The crane can stand night watch.”

Felicity lets out a soft laugh, but it’s a little nervous, too.

I promise myself I’ll make sure of one thing no matter what happens today.

Felicity Randall’s leaving here better than when she came.

It’s a little awkward maneuvering the truck down the steep slope into the valley, and then around the lake along some narrow dirt roads winding through the trees. I think if there hadn’t been loggers here before, their tracks worn deep, I’d have never gotten the truck through.

It’s even more awkward dealing with the guy at the boat rental place. He can’t stop staring at the crane while I’m just trying to get out of here with the fewest questions possible.

He just gawks out the window of his little booth, looking between me and Felicity, past us at the crane, then back at Felicity, who’s tucked close to me with her wool-lined jacket wrapped tight around her, arms hugged close against the glacial nip of mountain air.

I’m in short sleeves, of course.

To me, this is a balmy day.

“Uh,” the guy says. “Are y’all with a construction crew?”

“Nope.” I smile and offer him my debit card. “Just came here for some camping. Maybe a little fishing too.”

“You gonna scoop all the fish out with the crane? Shit, mister, we don’t got whales in this lake.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I counter cheerfully, and don’t offer a single other word.

After a few more seconds of expectant staring, the guy snorts, swipes the card, and hands it over, along with the key to unlock the boat’s controls. With him watching us, Felicity and I head down to the dock, scanning the numbers on the boats’ hulls to find ours.

“You good taking this out to the site?” I ask. “I’ll get the truck situated close by.”

“Sure,” she says. “Although I think that guy’s ready to call the rangers on us.”

“Any laws about transporting construction equipment out here?” I ask.

“Don’t think so.”

“If anyone asks, I work construction. This was the only vehicle I had for a sudden detour to camp on the way home from a job, and it just happened to be loaded at the time.” I laugh, and nod at the far side of the lake. There’s a small inlet there, where a spit of land thrusts out and isolates a small segment of the lake from view on this side. “Meet you over there?”

“Sure thing, Papa Bear.”

Before I can do anything but splutter, she flicks my arm with her fingertips, plucks the keys from my hand, and marches down the weathered boards of the dock. I watch her vault lightly into the pontoon boat without so much as rocking it.

This woman.

I’m left watching dumbfounded as she unmoors the pontoon boat with an expert hand and sends it puttering into the water, looking like she’s floating on air.

I don’t realize I have company till there’s the scuff of a foot on the dock, and I find Rental Guy staring after her, looking confused and flustered.

He starts to open his mouth.

I raise a hand.

“No more questions, man. Seriously. It’s not as deep as you think. Here.” I open my wallet and push a few crisp bills into his hand. “Extra safety deposit to cover any concerns you’ve got going through that head. Keep it.”

I leave him there, flabbergasted, chuckling to myself.

He’s gonna have some stories to tell his old lady when he gets home tonight, I’m guessing.

I’ve got a girl sailing away from me, though, and she’ll beat me to the campsite at this rate, so I clap the guy’s shoulder and head back to where we parked the truck.

By the time I get to the site I’d pointed out, I’m cursing. It’s a small miracle I haven’t tipped this damned thing over.

Rocky gravel, mud...maybe I was a little overconfident.

After a solid half hour, I manage to park the truck behind a cluster of fir trees not far from the tree line. Looks like a clear path to back the crane down the truck’s ramp to the shore if needed. Though in the loose, silty soil and lakeshore gravel, I’ll probably need some big rocks to wedge the thing in if we need it.

Felicity’s waiting for me when I haul my sweaty behind out of the cab with both our bags and a big duffel of camping gear slung to my back. Wrestling a truck shouldn’t be so exhausting.