We kayak through the stillness, nearing swans and mallards, watching as they take off over our heads or come in to land near where we glide across the water. We paddle along a slow-moving stream on a journey to exploration and turn around and wind our way back toward the lake when the stream becomes too shallow.
“Since I first moved here, I’ve always wanted to kayak this spot,” Cammie says.
“You’ve never been?”
“Nope,” she says as she continues to paddle toward the sea. I’m somewhat surprised she decided to take me here when she could have easily taken Hilary—or anyone else, for that matter. “There’s a really cool salt chuck up here.” She points toward a break in the trees.
“Salt chucks are where, on a high tide, the sea flows into the lake, but on low tide, the lake flows into the sea, often through some sort of waterfall.” Cammie starts to educate me with her tour-guide voice. “If we timed it right, we would be able to paddle through the salt chuck out to sea and then back through as long as the tide was slack. However, gauging by the sound of the rushing water, I would say we’ve missed that opportunity for the day.”
“Very informative, captain.” I salute her and am rewarded with a bout of laughter.
We beach our kayak along the mossy-green shore scattered with spruce trees, blueberry and salmonberry bushes. We walk toward the roaring sound of water and approach a lookout. Jagged rocks line falls that descend twenty or thirty feet to the ocean.
In the distance, we see sharp, snow-capped mountains rising high against the blue sky. This place is so pristine and untouched. I wonder if anyone has ever been to this exact spot before. There is no trace of human activity anywhere in sight aside from the occasional boat or ship moving slowly through the channel miles away.
I stand shoulder to shoulder next to Cammie, taking in the sight and beauty of this place I call home and I wonder if she feels the same, at home. Cammie reaches over and intertwines her fingers with mine and my breath hitches in my chest. I don’t budge or dare look at her for fear she might realize she’s made a mistake. I just stand there, lacing my fingers with hers.
Where’s her mind at, I wonder as I stroke a thumb against her hand. The slight hum of her breath at the contact has me stiffening while she seems completely unaffected. My body responds to her and I’m held captive by her desire. Does she want this or is this some adventure fling for her?
She said it herself, she isn’t interested in getting involved and despite her clarity I found myself thinking I could change her mind. I could be the person to prove her insecurities wrong. But what if they aren’t insecurities at all?
My face turns toward her, admiring the uptick of her lips as her eyes flutter closed, the wind carrying her hair as it trails over her shoulders.
My body begs me to reach out to her, to claim her as mine and surrender as hers, but my mind knows better and the sensibility of it all sends a bolt of frustration through my body. I pull my hand from Cammie’s and turn back toward the kayak as the wind picks up.
“We should be getting back,” my voice gruff in an attempt to hide my frustration.
“Oh,” her voice drips with disappointment. “Alright.”
“The wind is starting to pick up, and we’ve got a long paddle back to the truck,” I say, trying to sound happier then I feel.
“Is everything okay?” Cammie asks as she holds onto my shoulder, turning me so we face one another.
Just tell her, I think. Tell her how you feel. I wish I could tell her how I want to see where this goes but feel I’m giving only part of myself. I want to tell her it's fine if she can’t give herself freely, that I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give, even if it’s only part of herself.
“Of course it is,” I say through gritted teeth.
“It doesn’t seem—"
“It’s fine.” I snap, and watch her jolt from the shock. I slide a hand down my face embarrassed from losing my cool. “I’m a little nervous about the weather picking up. It looks like it’s going to rain.” I say as I grab my life jacket out of the kayak and start strapping it on. Cammie follows suit.
We push off the bank and paddle back toward the truck. We fall perfectly in sync with one another. Stroke after stroke. Cammie’s hair twists in the wind that has drastically picked up speed, causing small waves to form across the lake. The wind whips off the mountain tops as if warning us before the clouds tear open, sheets of rain begin to pelt against the water, drenching us in the crossfire.
“Shit,” I seethe and attempt to pick up pace, but Cammie doesn’t seem the least bit hurried, and now we’ve fallen out of sync. Beads of water pelt my head, running streams along my face, soaking me to my core that would’ve remained dry if Cammie hadn’t revoked my raingear wearing privileges.
“Really wishing I had my gear right about now,” I say with a bite. Cammie doesn’t seem phased as she slows her paddling more with every stroke.
“Why is that?” She turns to look at me, irritation spreading across my face, hers calm and composed. “A little water never hurt anyone.”
She shrugs and returns facing forward. She seems to be enjoying this all too much, I think before an idea bolts through me. I shut it down before I can formulate it. Be mature, I remind myself. I continue to paddle with more vigor than before as I close the gap between our kayak and the truck as rain pools into the kayak, soaking through my pants.
I try and toss some of it out as to not be chilled to the bone by the time we arrive at the truck. When I return my gaze forward to begin paddling once more, I notice Cammie. She’s tossed her paddle across her lap and is leaned back, her face looking toward the sky, eyes closed, water gracing her alabaster skin.
Frozen in awe of her, I feel myself falling for a woman I barely know—one who has made it abundantly clear she’s a closed book, off limits. I shake my head at my utter insanity, frustration filling the void of suppressed emotions.
The idea bolts through my mind again, and this time I don’t ignore it. Instead, I dip my paddle into the water and angle it slightly. I thrust it up out of the water, sending a large amount of water over the top of Cammie’s face.
She gasps as she flings herself forward, jostling the kayak with her sudden spasm. Satisfaction spreads across my chest.
“What the hell was that?” she shouts, flicking the water from her face.
“No idea.” I shake my head with a shrug. “The rain here can get crazy.”
“You ass, I know it was you.” She points a finger at me, her irritation quickly replaced by laughter. I chuckle, too, realizing the absurdity of it all, my pining after a woman who wants nothing more than friendship.
“You are insane,” I say matter-of-factly as I begin to paddle.
Cammie laughs as she attempts to catch her breath, still choosing not to assist with paddling. “I’ve always loved the water,” she says, returning her face to the sky.
“Well, then I believe you’ve found a home here,” I say, not realizing the double meaning behind my words.
She lowers her gaze from the sky and peers over her shoulder, locking eyes with mine. “Maybe I have.”
I clear my throat as I continue to paddle, taking note of my rapid heart rate as it beats against my chest. I remind myself to toe the line. To not scare her off despite my urge to tell her I want to be with her. All of her. The flaws, the fears, her abandonment. Whatever she’ll give me, I’ll take. I want her to burden me with it all, to let me carry some of the weight of her past.
Her laughter fills my body with warmth as we continue paddling through the torrential rain storm. The birds have flown for shelter and no longer swim across the lake. The trees whistle and sway to the gusts of wind that rustle through their limbs. As we approach shore, I hop out into the cold water and pull the kayak the rest of the way so Cammie doesn’t have to expose herself to frigid temperatures.
“Get in the truck. I’ll strap the kayak on.” I toss her the keys. She doesn’t move other than to place her hands d
efiantly against her hips.
“I’m not letting you boss me around. This is my adventure.”
“Cammie, get in the truck,” I say again, clenching my jaw tight.
“No,” she folds her arms across her chest.
“Cammie,” I growl the warning.
“You can’t make me.” She touts like a child. “You get in the truck.”
At that, I close the gap between the two of us and toss her over my shoulder with ease as I hear her gasp, begging to be put down.
“Oh, I’ll put you down,” I say, walking her toward the passenger side of the truck. I fling open the door and toss her back against the seat. Our eyes meet as I’m positioned over her, her breath shallow pants beneath my flexed arms. I rest my left arm on the headrest to push up and away from her but before I can push off, she stops me. Her small delicate hands loop around the back of my neck, tapping each finger against my skin. My eyes lock on hers, scanning them for any inclination of what she needs and what she wants.
She sucks in her bottom lip before whispering in a small voice barely audible above the tinkling of raindrops, “I’m scared.”
I look at her, worry spreading throughout my body. “I didn’t mean to sc—"
“Shh,” she says softly as she places her index finger to my lips. “You didn’t.” She shakes her head. Her breath hitches against her ribs. “I’m tired of being scared.”
The meaning of her words bleed through the emotion caught between them. My eyes search a lonesome face exhausted by her fear of connection, of love. In this moment, I know I have no choice. I’m powerless against my desire to protect her so she can begin to heal herself. So, instead I let myself go.
I crash my lips against hers as she melts into mine. I pull her up then closer as her legs wrap around my waist. The kiss is filled with desire of wants and needs that have been left unspoken since the moment we met. I can’t tell her with my words, instead I’ll tell her with this kiss.
My hand cradles the back of her head, the other palms the swell of her hips urging her closer so she can feel the way my body surrenders to her. Her hands lock around my neck as I find homage resting between her thighs. A surprised moan drips from her lips as she grinds against my length.
“God,” I groan and pull her closer, her tongue brushes across my teeth, pleading for more. I tilt her head, positioning it so I can explore her deeper, an easy rhythm found as we move together.
Not like this, my mind calls reminding me I don’t want fast, I want this to last. I pull back slowly, cupping her head in both hands, instantly regretting the decision to stop. Cammie’s eyes remain closed, but there is a smile brushing across her swollen lips. Water collects inside the truck and I’m reminded we’re both drenched and will need to warm up soon before we get sick. I lean past Cammie and put the key into the ignition, turning the truck on and cranking the heat.
“Stay here,” I command with a kiss to her lips.
“No,” she whispers back with her defiant tout transforming to a grin.
“You are so goddamn stubborn, Cammie,” I say as I wipe a hand down the front of my face. She slides off the seat and plants her two feet on the ground before walking toward the bed of the truck.
“You going to help me or what?” she says with a determined flair.
I laugh and shake my head as I walk my way over to where she’s standing. “You are something else,” I say with a kiss to her forehead.
Twelve
Cammie
We get the kayak loaded quickly, and our synchronicity surprises me with how well we work together. I hop into the passenger side of the truck, having given up on driving back. To be honest, my hands are so cold it’s difficult to move them, and I worry I wouldn’t be able to steer as well as I need to on these torturous logging roads.
I let my head rest against the seat and look out the window admiring the magical landscape as the rain settles along the coast. The weather has socked in, making our lake barely visible as we climb the switchbacks out toward home. Our lake. What a weird thing to say. I glance over toward Jake who is taking caution as he drives the road home. I wonder if he will be as cautious with me as we navigate whatever this is between us.
In a flash, fear has consumed me and removed every ounce of enjoyment from my body. I place my hand to my lips and drum lightly as my brain processes what this means. I’ve only just met Jake. How have I allowed myself to throw myself at him, ridding myself of walls and boundaries that were built up over years of letdowns?
Oh God, I can’t do this. I shake my head slowly as I continue to drum my fingers against my lip. Physically, I’m sitting in Jake’s truck, but mentally, my brain is giving me a highlight reel of tragic experiences. The day my dad left me. How my mom crumbled and fell apart, never fully returning to herself. Finding Brandon in our home, screwing that co-worker of his he had assured me ‘nothing was happening’ with.
Suddenly, the cab of Jake’s truck feels like it’s shrinking. My breath comes more rapid as I try and breathe through it. I remind myself I need to get home, and then I never have to see Jake again. This was a mistake, I think. It was all a huge mistake.
“Don’t do that,” I hear his soft smooth voice penetrate my destructive thoughts.
“Do what?” I ask pointedly, trying to deflect my worry. Is it possible he could read the thoughts in my head?
He reaches over and grabs hold of my hand which has been drumming against my lips. “Don’t let me lose you,” he says as he folds his hand in mine and places a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “Not after I just got you.”
He doesn’t look at me as he keeps his eyes peeled on the road in front of us, the windshield wipers at maximum speed as we traverse the steep cliffside. I admire the profile of his face, strong jaw and Roman nose, his hair flipping out in all angles as it starts to dry. His fearless and commanding demeanor eases the anxiety raging inside of me.
I smile to myself as I think of how patient Jake’s been with me since we met. I’ve asked not to be pushed, and he hasn’t. I’m the one who made the decision to explore this connection with him. A decision that, as I look at Jake’s face, I don’t regret.
“I won’t,” I say as I lean my head onto his shoulder. A promise to myself, and him, I intend to keep.
We reach the main road, and I let out a sigh of relief. I love going back there, but the road is sketchy on a nice day, let alone one where the road seems as though it could be washed out any minute. Jake still has my hand clasped in his. I admire how small and dainty it looks next to his rugged hand.
At the stop sign, Jake turns right. “What are you doing?” I ask, knowing the route to town is in the opposite direction.
“I figured we could get a change of clothes,” he says.
“Oh, where are we going?” Curiosity gets the better of me.
“I’m going to take you to my place,” he says as his eyes search my face. “If that’s okay?”
I hesitate but eventually nod.
We drive a few more minutes before pulling off the road onto a graveled driveway. We follow it down a ways before parking outside of a shed.
Is this it?
The shed has a rotten door with spider webs framing the windows. Jake parks and hops out of the car. I try my best not to let my judgment seep through my exterior but it’s hopeless. He motions me over toward him as he wiggles the door hinge. Yes, hinge. There is no doorknob.
I don’t speak; I just follow him as he opens the door. I squint my eyes closed and say a quick prayer asking not to be murdered out here in the middle of nowhere. He steps in and drops his bag on a hook before turning to leave.
“Alright, ready for the grand tour?”
“Sure,” I say, the worry creeping out with every word I speak.
“This is the garage.” He points toward the shelter we were standing in.
“Wait,” I say confused. “This isn’t…”
His grin builds rapidly across his face, one which tells me he knew exactly wha
t he was doing, letting me believe this was his home. He shakes his head. “No.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say with a breath of relief. He laughs as he reaches for my hand, and we walk down a path that weaves its way between spruce trees, soft golden lights strung between the limbs, illuminating the graveled path as we meander down the slope.
“I just redid all of this.” He gestures to the graveled path. “I figure when my mom gets wheelchair confined, she'll still want to come visit. I want to make sure she can.”
I take notice of the path that’s wide enough for a wheelchair or two. I squeeze his hand as I see the emotion building behind his eyes.
“You really love your mom,” I observe.
“She’s the best person I know.”
“Tell me about her,” I say.
“She’s pretty bad ass,” he chuckles, running his hand along his whiskered jawline. “She doesn’t take shit from anyone. Always speaking her mind and paving her own way. She breathed that into us all growing up.”
“Sounds nice,” I smile up at him.
“It is,” he meets my gaze and presses a kiss against my forehead. “She and my dad made me believe in love, you know, the kind that survives all odds.”
I nod as his face lights up with adoration wondering what a childhood like his would have been like.
“She would always tell us, you’ll know when you find your person,” he says, looking over at me once more. “She said it’s like being drawn to someone over and over again with no real explanation, just the mingling of two souls.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say, noticing the way his brow draws together as he questions his feelings for me, and I, him.
We round a bend in the path, and I can barely begin to make out a two-story, A-frame structure standing a hundred yards ahead. The mist creates a fog amongst the spruce and hemlock trees. As we get closer, I see both sides of the house are full of windows; logs create the structure of the home accented by a black metal roof.
Every Step of the Way: (Smugglers Cove #1) Page 12
