Me and the Helpful Hurricane (Good Grief, Idaho)

by Gussman, Jessie

  I know what she’s saying; it’s pretty obvious, and it’s funny but I echo her sentiments. A part of me is tempted to joke and diffuse the tension in the air, because it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like to do emotion and romance or bare my heart to people. I suppose it’s weird that I want to joke, because I’m not exactly a joking kind of guy either.

  Right now, laughing seems a little easier than being serious.

  But I think Leah deserves a little romance, and for some reason, she seems to think I can give it to her.

  Isn’t it funny what a man will do when he doesn’t want to disappoint a woman?

  I step closer and put my hand on her cheek, sliding my fingers around her neck. Her skin is soft, and I want to take another step until we’re touching, but that might be moving a little too fast for romance.

  “Maybe for you,” I finally say. “For me, I need the stars and the moon reflecting on the water.” I glance at the river, which is almost as pretty as the sky it reflects. “And the right woman.”

  I’m not great at saying all the pretty words, but those seem to make her happy, and they came from my heart, which is the best I can do. She smiles, and she’s looking up at me, literal stars in her eyes, and I run my thumb over her cheek and wish that I were better at saying what’s in my heart.

  Maybe that’s something I should practice. Because if things work out the way I’m hoping they do, if Leah wants romance, I’m going to be the one that needs to give it to her.

  I want to give her everything she wants.

  A nagging voice reminds me that I’m the boss and she works under me, and this could end up being a huge mess, but I don’t want to hear it.

  “We can stand under the stars and look into each other’s eyes and admit that we’re attracted to each other, and we can enjoy the next three days without having to think about what’s going to happen when we get back. Right?” I ask, and while a small cloud seems to pinch her face, it clears, and she nods.

  “Good idea,” she says, and her smile only seems a little forced. “Let’s enjoy the next three days.”

  I notice she doesn’t say anything about romance or stars or even spending the next three days with me, but I let it go, because she’s standing in front of me and my hand is touching her skin and she’s allowing it, and that shows me rather than tells me that she’s okay with us.

  That has to be enough for now.

  Chapter 17

  Leah

  The next day down the river is just as good as the first. We all have the same seats we had the day before, I guess there’s just some kind of human nature where we all want to sit where we were, which means I sit across from Doug, and we exchange smiles all day.

  I had hoped he was going to kiss me last night, which I suppose if I really wanted a kiss, I should have just told him so.

  Or asked if I could kiss him.

  I guess that’s the modern thing to do, isn’t it?

  Maybe there’s a part of me that wants to be chased a little. Or just wants to be sure that he really wants me and make him work a little to have me.

  Maybe that’s human nature too.

  Or female nature.

  Whatever, the anticipation is nice as well, because even though Doug surprised me by saying anything to me about attraction, which I’m sure made him uncomfortable considering he’s my boss, I still think he’s going to kiss me anyway.

  Here’s hoping.

  Breakfast was cooked over an open fire, eggs and bacon and more of the honey that Lee has told everyone he and his brother got from their own hives and that they sell.

  I doubt any of the residents are going to purchase any, but I think I will.

  It’s good on sausage, but I think it might be even better on cheese, and we could have it for girls’ night. Claire and my mom love cheese as much as I do, and I’m sure they’d be down for trying it with honey.

  So not only will I have some great memories to take home with me but some possible new food combinations that I’m really looking forward to.

  Regardless, it’s a breakfast that sticks to your ribs, and the sandwich at lunch feels sufficient.

  However, by the time three in the afternoon rolls around, I’m getting hungry, and I’m also getting worried, because Bain is on his phone. I think I heard him say something about needing firewood. He’s facing the front, so I can’t really hear exactly what all he’s saying.

  The water, as it has been all day, is calm, and when he gets off the phone, he shoves it in his pocket and turns around and faces us.

  I glance at Doug and see the concern I’m feeling mirrored on his face.

  Everyone stops talking as Bain says, “All right, there is an unspoken rule on the river that says that if you get to a sandbar and there is wood there, you can use it, and you’re welcome to it, but you know that you replace it.” Bain’s lips twist. “Same goes for anything else that’s sitting there. Use it but replace it.”

  He blows a breath out, looking frustrated but not unduly agitated.

  “I’m saying all that to say we had firewood cut, stacked, and ready to start supper, and we also had a cooler with food in it for tonight sitting there. Lee had to go home and do some chores, so he dropped the stuff off early this morning after he purchased it and ran home.”

  Bain actually smiles a bit. “I think someone had their lunch on us, and then they didn’t replace everything.” I can’t believe he’s not more upset. “Which isn’t a terrible catastrophe, but it does mean that Lee is not going to have things ready when we get there. He’s going to have to go back to town and grab some supplies for our meal. When we get there, I’ll be able to chop firewood, and maybe you,” Bain looks at Doug, “can help people off the raft and then tie it up.”

  He wrinkles his nose for a minute, and I get why he’s not more agitated. He’s the kind of guy who’s learned to depend on himself. I like that about him and realize that even though he and Doug look quite different, they have that in common.

  Bain glances at me, and I pull my attention away from Doug. “Maybe you can give him a hand, Leah. This stop is a little tricky, and I use dual ropes. I’ll show you where the stakes are to secure it before I grab the hatchet and chop some wood.”

  I nod. I’m fine with helping. I never learned how to tie a knot or anything and can’t do anything fancy, but I think I can keep our raft from floating away.

  At least I hope so.

  I glance over at Doug, who looks serious and responsible. I would trust him with the raft, and I would definitely trust him with helping the folks off.

  No one in the back seems upset, and voices are murmuring again as Bain looks at Doug and me and says in a softer voice, “This is frustrating, because I try so hard to have everything set up.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s out of your control,” Doug says, and I know he means it. He’s not the slightest bit upset about the change in plans. I can’t imagine anyone on the raft is either.

  I say, “I don’t think anyone here is going to be upset if dinner is a few hours late or whatever it’s going to be.”

  “You got to feed us sometime, but we’re all having a great time. Don’t let this get you down.” Patrick speaks up from the very back of the raft.

  I glance around, and everyone’s nodding. I think Bain feels better, although I understand his frustration. Everyone wants to do a good job, and I admire someone who cares about their work and about the service they’re providing.

  After all, we did pay to have a meal on time. Of course, he’s losing the money because he has to buy it twice.

  Still, despite my growling stomach, it’s a lazy sunny afternoon with perfect temps, and I’m a little disappointed when Bain starts guiding the raft over to the edge of the river.

  I see the sandbar ahead. Except, this is a little different than yesterday, and it looks like it’s pretty rocky.

  We hit the bottom, and Bain points to two stakes at the top of a small rise a good ways away from the tents and fire
.

  “Once everyone is out, you can pull it up off the sandbar, onto the river rock, and secure the ropes over there.” He looks at Doug and me. “Do you think you guys can handle that?”

  Doug says, “Of course. We’ll be fine.”

  Bain nods. He points to a rickety stand at the bottom of the rise that has a jar and a box on it.

  “Lee left a jar of honey and some crackers. I’m sorry that’s not fancy hors d’oeuvres, but they’ll have to do for now.” He looks back over the boat, and apparently, he likes what he sees, because he grins and shrugs.

  He hands the ropes that are attached to the front of the raft to Doug and me.

  “I’ll be back with some firewood. Twenty minutes, tops,” he says as he jumps out of the raft and strides up the gravel bar.

  It feels a little weird to be in the middle of nowhere, having no idea where I am or how to get out of here other than to continue to float down the river, as our guide strides away.

  This is not something I’m going to get worried about though.

  Doug doesn’t seem upset either, although he does watch Bain leave a little longer than maybe he might have under different circumstances, and I bet he’s feeling the same thing.

  We look at each other, and I don’t know about him, but just seeing him beside me bolsters my confidence.

  “I’ll get out, and I’ll help everyone out of the raft, if you work from inside,” he says, and I nod.

  It’s not a big deal to get everyone out, although it takes time, since they’re older and slower, but both Doug and I are used to working with seniors, and neither one of us are impatient or rush them.

  Finally, everyone’s out of the boat but me, and Doug holds out his hand. Even though I’m quite capable of getting out of the boat by myself, I take it and step over the edge, the rope coiled in my other hand.

  Somehow, I’ve gotten it twisted around my foot, and I laugh a little as I step down and then untwist myself. “I’m warning you, ropes are not my thing.”

  “Me either,” he says, and I think he’s just agreeing with me to make me feel better. I feel compelled to tell him, “No, I mean sometimes I have trouble getting all wrapped up in them. I get them tangled and somehow end up in a knot that I didn’t mean to create.”

  “You don’t think you’re surprising me, do you?” he says, and I hear the humor in his voice, which is fun and a little surprising.

  I laugh. We pull the raft out of the water, and a little shock goes through me as we head toward the stakes together, his hand slipping into mine.

  I can’t help it. My head turns, and he’s looking down at me. His lips are still tilted, but his brows are raised like he’s asking if it’s okay.

  Of course.

  I squeeze his hand, because he didn’t use words. Neither do I.

  He squeezes back, and I kind of like that we have this nonverbal communication thing going.

  Not that I always want to speak without words, because words are good. But it’s just fun sometimes to understand someone and know what they’re thinking without them saying it.

  We get to the top, having unwound the ropes while we were walking up, and again, somehow I get us twisted in them.

  I laugh, and he does too, taking his rope and pulling it behind my back, using his other hand to get a hold of it.

  I freeze, not because he’s touching me, which I like, but because it almost feels like he is going to hug me. That’s what I think is going on before I realize he is untangling my rope from his.

  Maybe he looks at me because I’m stiff, or maybe he realizes that we are very close to an embrace, and he stops, both arms around me, his rope behind me.

  “You weren’t kidding about the ropes, were you?” he murmurs, and it sounds like an endearment.

  “Maybe I did that on purpose,” I murmur right back, although I did no such thing.

  “I should have thought of that myself,” he says.

  “I’m glad you’re not upset I’m giving you a little push,” I say.

  His brows go up. “Upset?”

  I shrug. “I thought yesterday you were going to kiss me. I kinda had my heart set on it today.” And then, despite all my wonderful thoughts about getting chased and caught, I’m the one who steps closer and puts my hand on his waist.

  “Hey, you two, smile for the camera,” Kimber calls up to us.

  I admit I’m too old to get lost in anyone’s eyes, but I don’t know what other excuse I can use for the fact that I totally forgot there is anyone else walking on the planet besides Doug and me.

  My head turns toward the sound of her voice. She has her phone up, either taking a video or a picture, and maybe I would have smiled, but the unexpected movement knocks me off balance since we’re not exactly standing on even ground.

  Normally, that would have been okay, but somehow, I’d gotten the rope wrapped around my foot, and when I swing my arm to steady myself, the rope tightens.

  I fall into Doug, and we both end up falling and rolling down the hill.

  I think we could have stopped ourselves if we wanted to, but we were both laughing too hard. Also, he has his arms around me. I think he is protecting me from getting hurt, and I don’t think either one of us really wants to let go of each other.

  We should have though, because the rickety stand at the bottom of the hill that held the honey and crackers was right in our direct path. I don’t see it until we hit it.

  Our stop is rather abrupt and knocks the leg right out from underneath the stand. Only one leg, though, so the stand tilts but doesn’t crash down on us, which is nice. However, it does knock the honey down, which falls in a steady stream right on my forehead until Doug moves and puts his own head under the stream to protect me.

  At least that’s what I assume he’s doing, and it works for about two seconds until the honey slides around his neck and starts dripping on mine.

  I hear commotion in the background, but I’m not listening, because Doug whispers, “I thought I heard you say you wanted me to kiss you.”

  I nod. I did say that, and I did want him to kiss me.

  I do.

  I don’t have to say anything more, because he lowers his head.

  Chapter 18

  Doug

  I didn’t have to end up at the bottom of the hill, wrapped in rope, dripping in honey, lying on top of Leah, but sometimes, I can’t resist what life throws at me. Is it too terrible if I admit that I just didn’t want to?

  I think, somewhere in the conversation that I had with Lee last night, he mentioned honey was good for the skin.

  I hadn’t really cared at the time, and I still don’t, but it might be something Leah is interested in.

  I’ll talk to her about it later, because she really threw me for a loop when she told me that she wanted me to kiss her.

  Maybe it had something to do with me not kissing her, because don’t we always want what we don’t have?

  I thought I was being noble when I had been more interested in giving her romance than in doing what I wanted with her. Kissing was pretty close to the top of that list.

  I guess I hadn’t pictured this happening, but I’m going with it, especially since even though the rope has caught one of my hands and pinned it against my side, the other one managed to escape being bound, and I’m able to hold most of my weight on my elbow, so I’m not squishing her.

  I lower my head, and she’s looking at me with her eyes half closed, a little smile perched on her lips, and her fingers rubbing over my ribs as far as they can reach with the rope tying them down.

  I touch her lips with mine, and I vaguely realize that the honey has stopped dripping, and people are cheering.

  It doesn’t seem to make a difference to Leah, as a little puff of air escapes her lips, and she presses closer, kissing me back, and all the background noise fades away, and I wish my hands were free because I want to run my fingers through her hair and touch her, although it might prove sticky.

  I don’t care.<
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  She moves under me, and the last thing, the very last thing, I want to do is stop, but I do because I vaguely realize that someone is talking right above us.

  I lift my head. Her eyes are closed, and the smile that was perched on her lips has settled there, and she opens her eyes and looks dreamily at me.

  It’s the kind of look a man doesn’t forget.

  I’m hoping I’m looking at her in some way that stirs her too, the way that look on her face moves me.

  I want to wake up to that look, and go to bed with that look, and spend days with that look and with the woman wearing it.

  I realize, even as I’m thinking those things, that this must be what love feels like. Even though I have heard, and I agree, that love is more doing than feeling, this must be the feeling that prompts the doing.

  “Are you two going to lie there all night, or are you going to get up so we can fix the stand?” Chubb says from above me.

  I figured it must be either him or Patrick speaking, because I don’t think any of the ladies would have interrupted us. They wouldn’t want to kill a budding romance before it has time to bloom, but the guys are probably hungry.

  “Sorry about the honey,” I say, low enough that only Leah can hear me. “But I’m not sorry about anything else.”

  As apologies go, that’s not the best one I’ve ever given, but it makes the woman in my arms smile, and that’s really all I care about.

  “I’m not even sorry about the honey,” she whispers. It makes me want to kiss her again.

  “I told Lee last night I would buy some from him. I think I better get a gallon, if the lady likes it.”

  Her eyes look a little wicked as they glint at me, and I think she might be thinking along the same lines of the things that I’m thinking, but our relationship definitely isn’t ready to go there yet.