Rapid Attraction

by E. F. Jacks

  The boys reluctantly wave to Ellis and me, and I smile at them. Ellis explains to the husband and wife about my River Tours trip. The family, who are from Houston and guiding themselves down the river, introduce themselves and invite us to have lunch with them.

  “No, thanks.” Ellis respectfully declines.

  “We insist.” Helen smiles at us, not taking no for an answer. “We’d love your company. We haven’t seen too many people out here. In fact, you two are the first folks we’ve run into.”

  Ellis pauses with a glance toward the water’s edge.

  “That would be great. Thanks.” I take advantage of his vacillating before he can decline their invitation a second time. It’s not that I’m completely enthusiastic about eating with them. But declining twice would be rude. And I could use some company besides him for a change.

  He pulls our raft in front of theirs, and we maneuver to the shoreline.

  His eyes rest on the bulging gear bags packed into their raft. “They seem a little inexperienced.” He looks at me over his shoulder, and there’s a smile on his face. “You know, you’re pretty good at paddling.”

  “Spoken by you that’s a real compliment.”

  He chuckles.

  “And don’t worry. I’m sure they won’t shadow us the whole way down.” From the look on Helen’s face, I could tell she hadn’t believed Ellis when he said he was my guide, and that she thinks we’re a couple.

  We direct the raft near the pebbled shore, get out and wait for the family. Once they’ve arrived, the two boys leap out of the raft, throw their life vests and helmets on the ground and run around the small, rocky beach, chasing one another and shrieking. The noise pierces through the air, and is in stark contrast to the everlasting quiet I’ve been used to on the trip. I cover my ears, and then little by little I let my hands down. The boys’ untroubled exuberance makes me smile, even if they are noisy.

  I feel Ellis’s warm breath on my hair. “Don’t care for kids, Miss Choice?”

  I whip around to face him. “I love children.”

  “Just not if they’re wreaking havoc during what’s supposed to be your peaceful vacation.”

  I’m surprised he understands how I feel. “Sort of. If they were my kids, I’d feel differently.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You want to have kids?”

  “Someday.”

  He lifts the helmet out of my eyes. “Have any potential mates in mind?” I can hear the wink in his voice.

  I bite my upper lip and glance away from him.

  “Okay,” Ellis says. “Let’s get this over with, and then it’ll be back to normal. Just the two of—”

  Just the two of us. Was that what Ellis had been about to say? Before I can ask him, Helen’s affable husband, Doug, waves him over to talk. I take off my life vest and helmet.

  Helen turns her open smile in my direction. “You’re beautiful. A little hard to see under that big helmet.”

  I murmur thanks, and she signals to me to help her unpack the cooler lunch. She’s brought things I hadn’t thought were possible to have out here, like sandwich condiments and cold cans of soda.

  “We don’t plan to eat like this all the time,” she explains, offering me a can of cola while the boys play near the rafts. “The ice packs will unfreeze by the end of the day. I’ve been saving this meal for a special moment today, and when I saw you folks, I knew this was the occasion. Dougie and I are so glad we ran, oops, I mean paddled, into you two sweethearts. And don’t you two go so well together!”

  “Are your sons’ twins?” I ask.

  Helen’s beam is warm and engaging. “No. Daniel and Ryan aren’t twins. They do look an awful lot alike. They’re one year apart and getting bigger every day. I tell you, they grow up just like that.” Helen snaps her fingers in front of my eyes, and I pull back a little. “You’re young, so you won’t have to worry about that for a while, darling.”

  “They take after both you and Doug.” I’m silent as I pop off the can tab and gulp the cool, sweet cola. I think about asking her whether the voices I heard last night could have been from her family. Ellis is right, with their jam-packed raft, they seem inexperienced. I don’t want to frighten Helen, so I keep quiet.

  “Good, hmm?” she says.

  I nod as I drink. I smile at Ellis when I catch him and Doug watching Helen and me arranging the food on a checkered blanket she’s spread out on the beach. Warmness fills my chest. It feels natural to have Ellis watching over me.

  I take a seat close to Helen on the soft blanket. “Uh, Helen?”

  She stops setting out the sandwiches and looks up at me, her smile as generous as ever.

  “Ellis and I aren’t together in that sense. He really is my guide.”

  “Okay.” She speaks as though she doesn’t think what I’ve said is true, and then returns to her task.

  When I offer her more help, she waves me off. I finger comb my hair while I sit so I won’t appear too unoccupied. “What brings you and Doug out here, Helen?” I ask after a while. “That’s an interesting logo your raft has. Is the raft yours?”

  “Doug’s a champion. Champion whitewater rafter, that is.” She offers me a sandwich wrapped in foil and a paper napkin. “That’s his home team’s logo—the Paddlin’ Cowboys.”

  “He is?” I say, as Ellis and Doug approach the blanket, followed by the running boys.

  “We wouldn’t be out here if he wasn’t. What about you and your boyfriend, uh, your guide?”

  If I had assumed they were amateurs, like Ellis had, then what chance do I stand out on the river? I’m not about to tell Helen that my reason for taking the trip is Sam. “I’m a writer. I’m writing a piece about rafting for a—a newspaper in Boston.” One small lie won’t hurt.

  She clasps her hands together. “How exciting! You’ll have to tell Dougie and me all about that. Before we part, we’ll exchange email addresses, so you can let us know when your story is printed. We’d love to read it.”

  “Definitely.” And I actually might. Being out here is doing something to me. I’m letting my guard down little by little. Maybe.

  Chapter Six

  Pauline

  After lunch, Ellis and I part ways with the family. He seems relieved, but I’ve liked their company and am a bit reluctant to let them go. I exchanged email addresses with Helen and multiple promises to be in touch when we’re back home. Though I’d enjoyed their company and am sorry to see them go, being alone with Ellis has gotten to feel comfortable.

  He can’t believe it when I tell him about Doug being a trophy winning rafter. His eyes widen and his lips part in awe. “You’re serious?”

  If I didn’t have to hold my paddle I’d place my hand over my chest. “I swear on my life it’s what Helen told me.”

  “He never mentioned it.”

  “He probably didn’t want to come across as bragging. Why, if you were a champion, would you have mentioned it?”

  “Who says I’m not?”

  I lower my paddle, nudge his shoulder and he tenses. A barrier has been taken down between us, and kidding around with one another is normal now. But it’s apparent to me that I’ve developed a strong attraction to him, though I doubt he feels the same way.

  The day’s losing light. No, clouds are merely enveloping the sky. A gust of wind blows my hair, and I stop paddling to lift the locks out of my eyes.

  Ellis twists his upper body to look at me. “Hang on back there.”

  A bone chilling dampness meets my face. Huge drops of rain splatter on my helmet, my face, and tap off the raft.

  “Uh-oh,” Ellis says. He’s die hard, but he doesn’t seem like he’d take foolish risks, and I’m hoping he’ll decide to pull over on the shore and wait out the storm.

  For a moment the rain stops and I breathe out, until thunder rolls in and rumbles close by. A spark of lightning brightens the darkening sky.

  Ellis’s voice is thick with urgency. “Quick, steer to the shore.”

  My re
lief shines through my voice. “You got it.”

  “Do you actually think I’m crazy enough to keep us out on the water with lightning?”

  “For a second, I wasn’t sure.” I push my paddle through the water as the raft bumps up and down from the waves brought in by the wind.

  “With the long lunch, and now this, we haven’t gone as far as we should to keep on schedule, but I’m no maniac when it comes to ensuring your safety.”

  Maybe he talks this way to all his customers, but my entire body warms from his concern, and as long as I believe it, I can pretend his chivalry is reserved for me.

  Ellis indicates with his chin a secluded beach straight ahead, pulling me out of my thoughts. The sky all but turns a matte black as the dark clouds mass together and lightning crackles. We’re so close to the shore. I grip my paddle tighter as we make a final push.

  My arms burn and go numb, and Ellis makes up for my slack as we near the beach. I’m zapped of any remaining strength, holding on loosely to the paddle, and closing my eyes to the whip of lightning smacking down into the pine trees beyond the waterline. The raft bumps and lurches forward.

  The next time I open my eyes, I’m onshore. Ellis is reaching into the raft from the beach. With gentleness, he takes my paddle from my hand. Then he offers me his hand, and I accept his firm grip. He pulls me out.

  Ellis tugs the raft all the way out of the stirring water. After he takes what gear we’ll need, he flips the raft over, then secures our remaining gear and paddles underneath. Our tent is tucked under his arm, and for a few moments his calm eyes search over the beach, then he hurries me to a rock overhang.

  Within the overhang, in the shape of two walls with a long roof, Ellis assembles the tent, then guides me inside it.

  The sound of our breathing is magnified within the tent, which is fast turning from a somewhat stuffy place into an uncomfortable overheated space.

  Ellis’s cool, strong hand settles on my back. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah…I…think…I…am.” Each word that I utter trembles.

  He helps me remove my gear. When he glides his hand across my back, he pauses on my shoulder and squeezes. “We’ll be fine.” Spoken in his low, composed voice, it’s the most sincere and reassuring thing I’ve heard him say.

  After this trip, I won’t see him again, so I have nothing to lose. I want to turn around, shock him by kissing him. Instead I say, “What’s next?”

  Ellis lifts his hand from my shoulder. “We’ll spend the night here, and leave early in the morning.”

  There’s a touch of disappointment in his voice, and I wish I had kissed him. But what would I have done if he hadn’t reciprocated and it created a barrier between us for the rest of the trip? Could I have swallowed my pride all the way to the end?

  Because of the rain, Ellis rules out starting a fire to warm ourselves. I’m shivering in my shorts and t-shirt, and my socks are wet and squishy in the boots. I crouch to the tent’s smooth nylon floor and dig into my bag. “I can’t find my sneakers.”

  Ellis hunkers down and meets my eyes, smiles. “You left them in my truck.”

  I straighten and stand up. “I did?”

  He nods, and I bend my head and cup my forehead in my hand, shake my head.

  “Don’t worry. I can mail them to you.” Ellis rises.

  And it occurs to me he doesn’t plan to see me again after our trip’s completed. “If you can. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” Through my ears, hurt is evident in my voice.

  “It’s no problem, I—” Ellis pauses as a burst of wind rattles the tree branches set far back above the overhang, shaking the tent around us. He reaches around me to secure the flap. “It sounds like it’s getting pretty bad out there.”

  Raindrops sound more like bombs of water as they pummel the tent’s nylon cloth, followed by stones. Not stones. Hail. Wind gusts lash at the tent from all sides, and I crouch on the ground in fear. Behind me there’s an awful sound. I peek and discover that one section of the tent’s nylon has split in the center. Pellets of rain slap my eyes as I reach out to pull the gash in the fabric shut. Ellis’s presence comes up behind me. His warm hand sweeps past mine to hold the tear closed. I back away and rise. Something thrashes and knocks outside.

  He peers over at me. “Can you take over for a second? I’ve got to check on the raft. The storm’s bound to raise the river level, and I don’t want our stuff to wash away.”

  Ellis defers securing the rip and blocking out the rain to me. He bends down low to fit his generous height through the exit. A whispered prayer for his safety escapes my lips.

  “What did you say?” He’s stopped in the doorway, rain attacking him on all sides and misting my hair.

  “Good luck,” I say, when I had said, “Please keep him safe out there,” as much a prayer for him as for myself.

  He nods at me and hastens outside.

  What will I do if something happens to him and I’m left alone? How will I get to town?

  The blowing wind threatens to steal the nylon right from my hands, and I grasp tighter, count the seconds Ellis is absent. Pine trees bend and creak above the rock overhang each time a gust strikes them. Each outburst of wind brings the potential for a tree to topple over and smash into the tent and me inside. Please don’t fall, becomes a mantra I repeat over and over. In my mind, as long as I keep on reciting it the trees won’t fall.

  I’m tethered to the tent. If I leave, it’ll be snatched up by the wind and we won’t have a secure nighttime shelter for the whole trip. What feels like hours pass and Ellis hasn’t returned.

  I whisper through chattering teeth. “Where are you?”

  The tent’s nylon material strains under the force of the wind. I pull and stretch the flapping, ripped section closer together in my hands.

  Ellis throws back the flap and ducks inside the tent. His clothes are soaked and clinging to his rock solid chest and broad shoulders.

  “I secured everything.” Ellis holds up a small box. “I fetched a repair kit, too.” He shivers from the moisture that soaks into his clothes. “I could have used a raincoat.” His eyes follow a raindrop as it slides down his shirtfront.

  “Thank, God.” I’m not only thankful about the repair kit. I’m relieved he’s safe.

  I hold the piece of loose nylon straighter as he kneels and proceeds to stitch it together with a needle and a durable, clear thread.

  When he’s finished he sits back on his heels and admires his handiwork.

  “You’re our hero,” I say.

  Ellis rises to his feet. “Our hero? Not yours?” He grins.

  In a way, he is my hero of the moment, but I can’t allow him that much room in my heart.

  He turns, opens his bag, and lifts the hem of his shirt. He’s undressing. And there’s more than a clean, dry shirt in his hand. There’s also a pair of jeans.

  “Whoops.” I move my back to him and peek over my shoulder while he’s too busy changing to notice.

  Smooth, caramel-colored skin encloses his defined muscles. And that’s just his upper half. His powerful chest has the right dusting of masculine whorls. He discards his jeans to reveal black boxers, and long, fit legs with the same tan. He bends over to move his bag on the floor, and his firm behind expands against the back of his boxers. What would the sensation of gripping him feel like?

  “I’m beat.” Ellis turns around, with his lips curling up in a smile. He’s dressed in a fresh pair of blue jeans that accentuate his athletic legs and trim waist, and a fitted gray shirt. “I could really use a drink right about now. How about you?”

  I kneel in front of him, dig into my bag, and take out a slim flask of my stepdad’s scotch that I tucked inside before I left home. “Here.” I toss the flask to him.

  “Very nice.” He catches the flask in one hand and unscrews the cap. Before drinking, he asks, “Do you mind?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” He takes a swig. When he’s done he smacks his lips tog
ether and wipes the top of the flask with the hem of his t-shirt. “Scotch. I’m surprised. Are you a seasoned drinker, Miss Choice?”

  “I’ve only had scotch once.” I gesture to the flask in Ellis’s hand. “That’s my stepdad’s scotch.”

  He’s about to take a second drink, then he pauses. “You stole it?”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Ellis laughs. “Never would have guessed that.” He finishes his drink and holds the flask out to me. “Want some?”

  I shake my head and take it from him. “Well, maybe I’ll have a little.” I press the flask to my mouth and sip. The liquor warms my throat, but I cough at its sharp bite. Ellis looks at me as though he isn’t the least bit surprised at my alcohol intolerance. To him I’m probably a prim little miss. If only he knew the truth. “It’s all yours.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and give him back the flask.

  “We might as well get comfortable.” Ellis rolls out his sleeping bag and reclines. His arm is extended and his head is supported by his hand. He looks as though he’s relaxing on a beach in the Caribbean somewhere.

  I hesitate, then ask, “We’ll really be here for the night?”

  “Yeah.” He drinks from the flask.

  I’m reminded how different we are from one another. Ellis feels comfortable enough to rest in the middle of the storm. My city instincts are telling me to remain on edge. “You’re sure it’s safe to?”

  “Is what safe, drinking while lying down?” Ellis grins over at me. “Why don’t we find out?” He pats the space next to him.

  Tingles of heat crawl over my face. “That’s not what I asked—I asked, is it safe to stay like sitting ducks out here?” I rub tiredness out of my eyes.

  Ellis presses his thumb to his chin. “Being in here under this overhang is safer than being out on the water or hiding under a tree.”

  “I just wish this storm would stop.”

  His voice is soothing and direct. “It’s bound to.”