by E. F. Jacks
A peal of my laughter echoes on the shore. “I don’t think so. I want my feet to stay nice and dry, thank you.”
“If you say so.” Ellis angles his face away from me but I can still see a devious smirk forming on his lips.
Sam, I love you, but how am I ever going to get through the whole trip stuck on a small raft with him?
Chapter Three
Ellis
She’s not going to last more than a day out here. This job will be easy. I’ll be returning home before I’ve even started.
To what is obviously Pauline’s dismay, I help her onto the yellow raft before I board. “This way, I can untie the rope. Then I’ll hop in.”
Pauline’s eyes widen in surprise.
“I take it you’ve never been on a boat before?” I ask.
“Not an inflatable one.” Her glare is a punch to my gut.
I’m starting to like her regardless. And I can appreciate the challenge she presents. She’s the opposite of my ex Linda, who would look to me for answers even when I encouraged her to think for herself.
Pauline gestures to the back of the raft. “I’m going to sit there, okay?”
“The back seat is usually for the person who steers.”
“I know that.” Pauline’s face turns scarlet.
I hate that we’re off to a rocky start. With our personalities clashing this much already, I get a little anxious thinking about spending a whole week out in the wilderness alone with her. She’s feisty enough that I wouldn’t put her past trying to take control of the raft and the trip the farther downriver we go.
“Thanks, but I don’t need your help anymore.” Pauline frees her hand of mine and sits down on the cushioned seat in the front.
I’ve given her a bulky life vest to wear. It’s a men’s size, because that’s all I have on me. It almost swallows her petite figure. Even with those dark jeans she’s got on I can see her shapely legs. I lean over to hand her a white helmet. “Here, you can wear it like you would on a bike.”
She reaches to take it from me and puts it on. The helmet is too big for her and almost falls down to her eyes. She looks hot anyway. I hold out the additional paddle toward her, then notice her fiddling with the helmet strap. I bend down to adjust it for her.
Her eyes go wide when I touch the strap around her chin. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to fix your helmet.” I motion to the strap.
“Oh. Okay.”
I tighten the strap, and her breath warms my fingers. Her skin is so soft when my fingers accidently brush it, and I want to get my hands on her. But I can’t let that happen.
“So I can help steer?” She takes the paddle from me and almost falls back under its weight.
“Be careful. Yes, you can help if you can.”
The water is smooth near us, but churns and spits foam farther down. In my mind I go over an itinerary. Pauline can help me paddle when we first pull out onto the water. When we reach the trickier part, I’ll take charge and she can sit back and hold on.
After I check that Pauline’s settled, I untie the rope from the tree, slide into the back of the raft with my paddle in hand and steer us out into the middle of the water.
Afloat on the flat, glassy river, I show Pauline how to dip her paddle in and out as we glide downstream. Her strokes are deep and graceful, powerful, and I’m impressed, though I hide it. With her milky skin, I’d pronounced her as someone who favored the indoors. But she’s not a bad paddler. There’s no mark of clumsiness in her steering. If I didn’t know it beforehand, I never would have guessed she’s an amateur. I’m not telling her that, though. “Of course, the first part is always the easiest. There aren’t any rapids. About halfway on our trip, you’ll get a taste of the real thing.”
And evidently I’ve made a dent in her confidence. Her face reddens.
Even with the splotch of sunscreen she dabbed on her nose, she looks sexy. ‘Want some sun block?’ She’d asked me onshore earlier, offering me her bottle. I declined. Maybe if she’d offered to rub it on me I would have said yes. I sure would like to rub some on her. ‘I guess you’ll fry, then,’ she said. Yeah, the sun in the cloudless sky pressing down on us is even more brutal out on the water.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask.
Silence.
“Pauline, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a writer.” She pauses. “I freelance.”
She must have studied at college for that kind of a career. “You’ve been doing that since you graduated from college?” Her strokes lose their natural effortlessness. “My boss at River Tours said you’re from the Boston area. What did you study? Where did you go to school? I’ve visited Boston.”
She stills at my statement. The paddle slips from her hand and smacks against the side. I catch it with my free hand before it lands in the water. Does she think I’m lying about where I’ve been to impress her? Would I lie to get on her good side? Maybe. With her wavy, blondish hair, caramel eyes, and creamy skin, she’s freaking gorgeous. She acts like she doesn’t know it, which is even more of a turn on for me. It’s important to me that she knows I’m not lying. “I’ve been to a lot of cities.”
Her eyes meet mine as we drift out on the calm water. I look into their rich brown depths and smile, trying to get her to return the gesture.
She continues to frown. “It doesn’t matter where I went to school.” Her shoulders tense when I hand the paddle back to her. “Look, you don’t need to feel like you have to make small talk with me the whole way.”
“It’s not small talk.” Because I am curious about her. “I’m just being friendly. I might even ask you a question like, are you single?”
I finally coax a smile out of her. “Nice try. And you don’t need to be friendly.”
For all I know, Pauline thinks I didn’t go to college and that her career and college major are beyond my knowledge. She doesn’t know half the story about why I’m here. She would be right about me not attending college, though. Her sour attitude has gotten to me. “Isn’t that what you’re paying for? For me to accommodate you?”
Her pretty face crumbles, and already I regret what I said. The last thing I want to do is upset my sexy customer. She rushes to explain and has to keep the paddle from falling out of her delicate, yet strong hands. “That’s not what I meant, I – I –”
“Forget it.” One thing’s for sure, I won’t inquire about her career for the rest of our journey. She’s cold for someone so young, and I wonder about her past. What caused her to build a shell around herself? She’s not outright sensitive, though she clearly doesn’t want to get hurt. And that thing about her sister? I can relate.
We make it through the tougher, whirling part of the river okay, with Pauline holding onto the sides of the raft like I’ve instructed, and me cutting the paddle through the resisting water, working up a sweat.
As the sunlight dims, the air around us cools and the river gives off a chill.
Pauline smacks her arm. “Ouch.” She hits her arm again. The wind is light, and the mosquitoes and gnats are getting thick as the day winds to evening.
Despite her indifference toward me—it’s like in her mind she’s on the trip herself and I just happen to be here—I want to help her. I wait a few moments as she keeps on slapping at the bugs biting into her skin, then ask, “Did you bring a jacket or something? A windbreaker?” Judging her on looks alone, I expect her to be the kind of girl who would have packed everything she could think she might need on the trip.
Pauline shakes her head.
“Not even a sweatshirt?” I say.
“No. It’s summer.”
I laugh at her and shake my head as she scowls. The water is stagnant enough for her to take charge. I set down my paddle. “Take over for a second, will you?” She seems relieved I’m confident enough to leave her in control, at least for a moment. I reach into the duffel by my side and pull out a worn sweatshirt. “This should fit over your life vest.” I hold it out to her.
Pauline slowly takes the sweatshirt from my hand. “How come you’re not wearing a life vest? Or a helmet?”
For a moment I think she’s going to sniff my sweatshirt. “It’s clean,” I say.
“I knew that.”
“I can’t stand wearing those vests. They constrict me. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” I don’t tell her that a life vest reminds me of a tactical vest and that’s something I can’t handle. And don’t even get me started about the helmet.
She pauses, then pulls the sweatshirt over her head and her arms through it. “You’re an expert, is that it?” The baggy sweatshirt billows out around her.
“I happen to be an excellent swimmer.”
Pauline speaks in a non-sarcastic way, as though she truly is curious. “How did you get that skill?”
“Through serving my country.” I nod to the Marines logo on the sweatshirt she’s wearing. It’s the same sweatshirt I wore when I left the hospital. I’d grabbed it out of the closet in my room. One of the few personal belongings from my past I have left, and as a consequence, one of the few old memories I have. I also have Linda’s hiking boots. I found them in the front seat of my pickup truck, which was still parked in the garage where I’d left it before going on my tour of duty, with the keys in the glove compartment. And the boots traveled with me to Canada when I drove the truck here.
Pauline glances down at the logo on her chest, her voice giving away her surprise. “What happened? You seem too young to have retired, if that’s what it’s called in the military. Where did you serve?”
“Afghanistan.”
She’s silent for a few moments, and I can’t tell what’s going through her mind. “The wars are a bit much if you ask me.”
“You don’t know a thing about it. You weren’t there.” The rage in my voice surprises even me.
Pauline jumps in her seat. “I didn’t mean—Ellis, I’m sorry.”
I feel bad I snapped at her. Sometimes it seems like I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore. My head is throbbing, and my mind feels foggy. Since my injury in Afghanistan, I get horrible headaches on and off every few hours. Even all the pills I take don’t relieve the headaches anymore. And sometimes it sounds like there are bells ringing in my ears.
I give her a short nod. “Apology accepted.” I waste a few beats thinking of how to answer her earlier question. “And about why I’m no longer—I got involved with rafting. It’s something I’m more passionate about.”
It’s a lie, but it should suffice. Rafting came back to me naturally enough, though I haven’t done much rafting since Joshua and I were teenagers. Josh. Memories of him return to me in pieces. Pauline and I have more in common than she believes.
“Sounds mysterious.” By the sudden twinkle in her eyes, lightening from brown to amber when she smiles, I know she’s joking. We’ve been paddling out here for half the day, and this is a side of her I haven’t seen until now. So, she’s not stiff and serious all the time, or maybe it’s being out here on the open water that eases her. It has the same effect on me. “You’ll have to tell me the whole story sometime.”
I swallow a lump of uncertainty. I’m starting to like her a little more. Going through with the plan won’t be easy. “Maybe I will.” I lift my paddle up at the same time as hers, and they clack against each other.
Pauline nods at me and flashes me a quick smile. “I’m holding you to it.”
I could get used to her amiability. But I don’t want her to like me too much. It will go easier if she doesn’t, because I won’t feel so obligated toward her. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk in the tent together at night.”
Pauline scoffs and slides a look at me over her shoulder.
It’s clear where I stand. To her, I’m some guy she’s paying to take her down the river. And I’d do anything to get my mind to think of her in the same way, but I can’t stop thinking about her in another way.
It’s getting even cooler out on the water, and with the day ending, I guide us to a low riverbank to set up camp for the night.
I step over the raft’s side into the waist-deep water in my sandals and ease the raft onto the sandy shore.
“You don’t mind getting your jeans wet?” Pauline shouts.
I glance at her over my shoulder. “I’ll hang them up to dry by the fire while I swim.”
“You’re going swimming in the dark?”
“It’s not dark yet.”
“Do you have a…a bathing suit?” she asks, as though she half expects me to swim naked.
I chuckle and turn around. “Sure, I do.” But I haven’t brought one with me.
I drag the yellow raft partway onto the shore and wait for Pauline to step out. When she falters, I offer her my hand, but she ignores it and jumps out herself, one of her feet landing in the water with a splash.
Pauline groans. “Just great.” She looks down at the hiking boots I gave her. “Any chance these are waterproof?” She walks ahead of me onto the shore.
“They aren’t. They should be dry by the morning, though.”
Pauline doesn’t look back at me, seems lost in her own thoughts again, and I wonder about the severity of her secret. I worry I’m losing the traction I’ve gained. How awful must her past be that she has to switch on and off between joy and complete gloom? Then my headache returns and I need to keep my mind—and my hands—busy.
I bend over to secure the raft to a tree stump with a rope. Someone chopped down the tree, presumably for firewood, and used this as a camping spot. I peek back and catch Pauline looking at my ass through my wet jeans. I take a risk, wink at her. She flushes and whips her head away.
From the raft, I remove the bags and gear we’ll need for the night, then flip it over on its back in case it rains, so it won’t fill with water. Pauline has found a large, smooth stone to sit on, and she tucks her knees into her chest. I bring her bags over and set them by her rock.
She quietly thanks me. This trip seems more than an adventure to her, as though she’s here to satisfy a void somewhere deep down inside her.
As I prepare to set up the tent we’ll use for the night, I remove my sandals and change into boots. My bringing just the one tent wasn’t by chance. I brought one so I can keep an eye on Pauline at all times.
She rises from her stone seat when I begin to assemble the tent. I plan to get a fire going once the tent’s raised, assuming I can find enough dry wood around here. As it gets to be early evening, birds squawk to one another in the pine trees above us settling in for the night. I fiddle with the zipper of the flap we’ll use to enter and exit the tent.
Pauline’s voice sneaks up behind me. “I’d like to help with something.”
I turn around and smile at her. “That’s all right, it’s my job.” I return to work.
She steps close to me, and I catch a whiff of perfume a little weakened by sweat, like she would smell in my bed. Maybe I can get this tent set up fast. My cock aches. I want to come on to her but shouldn’t.
“Please, I want to,” she says, and I wish she was begging me for something else.
My head wins over my dick. “Maybe some other time.”
She sighs and walks back to her rock seat.
The next time I check on her she’s taken a white beach towel from her bag and has unfolded it on the sand by the water’s edge, where she reads on a Kindle.
“There’s no place to charge that out here,” I call to her.
Pauline glances over at me. “I know.” She resumes reading.
I finish setting up the tent and gather dry wood to build a fire later, finding just a few small branches and sticks that aren’t damp.
After all the work I’m sweaty and decide to cool off in one of the river’s low, protected pools on either side of our campsite. I don’t want to alarm Pauline by stripping and swimming in my boxers, but I didn’t bring swimming trunks. She’ll have to tolerate it. Shouldn’t be too hard for her. After fetching a clean towel from my bag, I head into t
he bushes behind her to change.
“Be right back.”
She gives me a little wave, doesn’t turn around. Must be a good book.
In privacy I doff my pants and shirt, and have a close call with a thorn bush. I put the towel over my shoulder and step out of hiding to hang my clothes on a tree branch.
Barefooted, I walk over warm rocks to the largest pool to the right of Pauline, which looks the deepest and clearest of the two. I throw my towel on the ground.
Resisting the urge to see if she’s watching me, I wade into the water, which is as cool as it looks, and submerge myself up to my chest. I sense her peeking, and sure enough, I look over and she’s noticing me. She sticks her nose back in her book when I grin and wave.
“Join me,” I shout. “The water’s great.” It sounds like a come on, and I didn’t intend for it to, but I’m not unhappy it does. I hope she agrees. A part of me wants to see what those curves of hers look like outside her clothes. She’s so quiet and uncertain for such a good-looking girl. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is, with her long brown hair and pretty features. I want to slide my hands all over her creamy skin. And I like that she isn’t fully aware of her power over me. I like it a lot.
Her eyes are glued to the screen as she says no, thanks. She fans her face with her free hand as a lick of steam rolls across the early night.
Dropping a hint might work. “Could help cool you off.”
Pauline looks at me. Her brown eyes must see right through my intentions. “Thank you, but, no.”
I’m her guide, but I’m also a man, and giving up on trying now doesn’t mean I’m giving up forever.
I come out of the water shivering, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. I dry myself off, then run over to my gear bag and take out the fire starter.
I sculpt a pit in the sand with my bare hands. I think I can remember how to do this. I arrange the kindling, and add bone-dry seagrass on top, which should pretty much guarantee the flame catches. When Pauline’s done reading, I’ll ask her to join me.
Chapter Four