by Gaelen Foley
“Wow.” His face must’ve betrayed his astonishment, because she lifted an eyebrow at him with a look that said, You thought I was just some hick, didn’t you?
He dropped his gaze, a little chastened.
She chuckled, sighed, and watched the river. “And to think my parents said I wasn’t a practical girl.”
“So what happened?” he asked.
“Oh, lots of things.” She shrugged. “Mainly my dad—who was footing the bill for my education—convinced me I’d never get a job in that field. Or, at least, if I did, I’d have to move away to New York or London, which even I agreed sounded too far away. That kind of left me floundering, so Daddy stepped in again and informed me that what I really wanted to do was become an attorney. Just like him.”
“Bossy guy?” he inquired, taking her cue.
She slanted him a glance of mixed amusement and exasperation. “I don’t know if you have any lawyers in your life, but it’s almost impossible to win an argument with a guy who argues for a living.”
He smiled. “Especially when he’s picking up the tab, eh?”
“The guy with the gold gets to make the rules, right?”
Harry snorted, thinking instantly of Curt. “Got that right.”
“Dad knows his own mind. That’s the one way he takes after Pap,” she added. “Other than that, they butt heads constantly whenever they’re in the same room.”
“Hmm, for some reason I’d assumed it was your mother who grew up on the farm.”
“Oh, God, no! Mom’s a suburbanite through and through. McMansions all the way. Dad is Pap and Gram’s only son. Unfortunately, my father knew early on he wanted no part of the farming lifestyle. No flash, you know?” She grinned. “Besides, Dad’s kind of a control freak, and there was way too much about farming that drove him nuts. You can argue with the weather all you want; you’re not going to change it. Plus, even if he’d wanted to take over the farm, Mom never would’ve gone along with that. She gets hay fever. That’s the excuse, anyway. But the truth is”—she gave a twinkling grin—“Mom’s a bit of a social climber.”
“Oho!” Harry laughed.
“Hey, back then, she figured she had married a young lawyer on track to becoming a partner in the firm, which he is now. She was not about to be dragged out to live on some farm like Eva Gabor in Green Acres.”
“That’s pretty funny,” Harry said, grateful for the distraction.
“Yeah,” Bea said affectionately. “They’re all a little nuts, but that’s family for you, right?”
Harry just smiled. He wouldn’t know much about that, since it was just him and his mom.
“So, anyway,” Bea said as she paddled on, “I changed direction junior year, switched majors to pre-law. Hated it,” she said flatly. “It was only when I came here and started helping out my grandparents on the farm that I discovered my true calling.”
“Interesting,” Harry said.
They glided along for a while; he spotted a heron soaring overhead, and followed its flight across the sky with his gaze.
Then Bea looked askance at him, a shrewd glint in her eyes that gave him his first subtle heads-up that she might have an agenda here today, just like him. “So, what about you? What’s your story, Harry? Did you always want to do what you’re doing now?”
“Nah, I just wanted to make a boatload of money,” he said with a grin. “Didn’t have much growing up, you know?”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback. She paused, looked at him more closely. “So…the Porsche?”
Yeah, just my way of shoving it in my dad’s face. Wherever the hell he is.
Probably prison. Or hiding from his bookie.
Harry felt the usual surge of coldness inside whenever he thought of his father, but he just smiled at her. “Boys and their toys.”
She gazed at him for a heartbeat as they both apparently realized that some of the assumptions they’d made about each other weren’t exactly accurate.
The irony of their switched circumstances wasn’t lost on either of them.
She’d been raised in a comfy, upper middle-class home, by the sound of it, but was struggling now as a new farmer; he’d had very little as a kid, but now could afford pretty much whatever he wanted. No thanks to his so-called dad.
She’d had her college paid for; he’d worked like a dog for all he had, and caddied every summer of his teen years at the country clubs, where the rich men he aspired to join someday made deals out on the links. He had listened carefully, observed, learned; had always done his job quickly and efficiently, earning fat tips and quite a few mentors along the way; and by the time he was applying for college scholarships, he had basically figured out how their kind thought, operated, looked at the world. Above all, he had promised himself then that he would never go back to being poor.
Because if there was one lesson that his problem gambler of a dad had taught him, it was that nobody loved a loser. But a winner was always welcome wherever he went.
Harry fell silent. Bea, too, seemed disoriented by the realization that maybe he hadn’t always had it so easy. That he had a history of his own, one different than she had assumed. She rowed on, thoughtfully dipping her paddle into the current.
After a long moment, she spoke again. “I guess your career must keep you pretty well plugged in to the city’s financial community, huh?”
“More or less.” He detected an overly casual note in her voice that alerted him that she was up to something. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason.” Her delicate, tanned shoulders lifted in a shrug; she avoided his gaze. “I was just wondering…”
Her voice trailed off, but amused curiosity consumed him.
“Beatrice?” he prompted after a few seconds, smiling. “Wondering what?”
She finally glanced in his direction, biting her lip. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me.” He noted her guilty hesitation, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop smiling. What is she up to?
Again, she looked away, watching the blade of her paddle dip below the waterline. “Oh, I was just wondering if you’ve ever heard of, or happen to know, any other angel investors who might specialize in agribusiness.”
“What?”
“Since I do plan on keeping the farm,” she added hastily.
“Cheeky!” he exclaimed, laughing.
She started laughing, too, though her face was now beet red. “What?” she said. “I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Yeah, maybe my feelings,” he taunted.
“Get out of here.” She scoffed at his feigned reproach, both of them laughing. “You told me you accepted my choice not to sell.”
“Did I say that?” he replied, grinning.
“Oh my God, I knew it!” she shouted amid scandalized laughter. “It was a strategy all along, you backing off last night. Oh, you are a bad man.” She splashed him with a swish of her paddle, but he laughed and splashed her back.
“Bad gets the job done, baby.”
“Children!” Jack boomed from behind them.
“She started it,” Harry mumbled, mirthfully holding Bea’s stare.
Rather than being offended by her kittenish attempt to play him, Harry found it funny as hell. If that was her attempt at manipulating, she was terrible at it, and he found that altogether refreshing.
Thankfully, she seemed equally amused to learn that he, in turn, had never really given up on her farm, as he’d claimed.
Well, he did tell her he never went away.
That was his father’s trick.
She shook her head at him, her brown eyes sparkling with gold flashes like the sun on the river around them. “What are you going to do next to try to get your way, Mr. Riley? Seduce me?”
“Should I?”
“I’d like to see you try it,” she retorted.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “That sounded distinctly like an invitation.”
“I was joking.” Her blush flooded back.
But by now, he kind of needed it, especially when he saw that come-hither glow in her eyes, despite her denials.
“Heads up, crew. Quit flirting and pay attention,” Finn ordered.
“I wasn’t flirting,” Bea huffed, but even Jack scoffed at that one.
Finn ignored them both. “We’ve got a nice little run through some lively class-threes ahead, so get your game faces on.”
Oh, yeah—the rapids, Harry thought. For a minute there, he’d forgotten all about them. His exchange with Bea had changed his outlook, however. The rocks and swirling waters ahead didn’t look so threatening anymore. She’d put him at ease, and for that, he was grateful.
He glanced over at her again and caught her eyeing him. Eyes dancing, she chuckled, seeming to savor the humor in the two of them exposing each other’s true motives here today.
Harry smiled back at her and rowed on, unsure what impact her unmasking his determination might have on his ability to move the ball down the field. But to hell with it, he thought, at least for now. Though he was quickly running through his repertoire of approaches to managing a client, still with no success, oddly enough, he didn’t mind. Today, somehow, in the sun, rolling with the river, he could just let it go. After all, he liked a challenge.
And, damn it, he liked her.
“We’re gonna carve around this pillow rock on the right,” Finn announced over the dull roar of the river, “and bob down the wave train on the other side.”
Harry had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but Finn spoke so confidently, eagerly, that he was reassured the dude knew what he was doing. His whole body tensed for whatever came next, but he soon saw he needn’t have worried.
Finn turned out to be some kind of modern-day Leatherstocking. Harry marveled at the guide’s ability to careen the boat left or right as he pried against the gushing current, to turn it quickly despite the river’s relentless flow. The guy was fearless, with a confidence that came from expertise.
So, at last, Harry settled in. He’d committed to this, and now there was no turning back, and he was not going to look like a wimp in front of Beatrice Palmer, let alone her two he-man pals. Besides, the swiftly moving water was manageable, at least for now.
He was almost having fun.
Nevertheless, he took Finn’s instructions seriously. He kept his feet planted firmly on the floor of the boat and tucked into the safety straps. He timed his paddle strokes to stay in sync with Bea’s, as directed.
She sat opposite him in the front seat, while Jack followed their rhythm and nature boy Finn handled the steering.
Harry powered forward through the whitewater when Finn ordered it; rested when Finn said stop; even got the hang of paddling backward against the current when he heard the command, helping to maneuver the raft away from bludgeoning rocks.
He scouted out the deepest channels, tried to navigate the best pathways through the rumbling water, and kept in the front of his mind Finn’s number one rule: “If you drink—meaning, get your ass dumped out of the boat—align your body with the current and keep your feet up.”
Soon Harry had to admit he was getting a rush.
“I think New Guy Harry’s ready for some real action, Finn,” announced Jack, smooshing his soaking wet face into his shoulder to dry off for the moment. They had gained another smooth stretch of the river after the class-threes behind them, but it sounded like there was plenty more ahead. “What do you think?”
What real action? Just as Harry was gaining the slightest nugget of confidence out here on the river, he wondered what the hell these guys had planned for him.
Suddenly he felt like he was some kind of pledge at a frat party.
“I don’t know, Jack,” Finn replied, all skeptical theatrics.
“Aw, be nice, you guys!” Bea chimed in, adding patronizing pressure. Her smug grin stretched from ear to ear.
“That’s it,” Harry said with an uneasy laugh. “If I survive this trip, I’m taking you guys golfing.”
Jack and Finn groaned dismissively. Last night at the pub they’d told Harry that teeing up was only for old geezers. He’d tried to convince them otherwise, to no avail. If they’d take him up on the offer, he could show them why it actually was the best game in the world. And maybe teach them a thing or two.
“All right, all right. You got yourself a deal, Riley,” Finn finally agreed. “I can roll with you Ivy League boys.”
“Not me, bro. I get a club in my hands, pretty soon I just want to beat somebody with it,” Jack said, and Bea laughed. “But, hey, I’ll swap jabs in the ring with you sometime, Harry.”
“What ring?” She glanced around at them, her eyebrows arched. “Why are we talking about a ring?”
“Harry didn’t tell you he’s a boxer?” Jack asked.
She rested her paddle across her knees and cocked her head toward Harry, giving him a sultry once-over. “No, he did not.”
“Look lively, people!” Finn clipped out, all business again in the blink of an eye, his stare fixed on the river ahead. “Next up are the Narrows. Get ready for a lot of quick turns.”
The Narrows were exactly what Harry imagined. A series of long, thunderous chutes that throttled the raft against high stone walls. The mountainous ridgeline was hundreds of feet above them now, its fir trees looking like tiny models on a toy train set, he thought as he looked up from the chilly gray gorge.
A funnel of smoke puffed up from somewhere in the hills that Harry couldn’t quite pinpoint. As the musty scent of burning pine hung in the valley, he stiffened.
“That’s just a campsite,” Bea told Harry, nodding up toward the hillside. She must’ve picked up on his nerves again, saw some flicker of concern flash across his face at the sight of what could’ve very well been a forest fire.
Relieved, Harry smiled wryly at her, appreciating her kind reassurance. He took a breath, noticing how confident, how radiant the woman was as he sat across from her.
He decided right then that he enjoyed sharing a job with her here in the front of the boat; together, they created forward momentum as they teetered on the bow. If they shared no other common ground, at least this was a starting point.
But they were clearly in Bea’s element, and Harry could admit he was impressed. It didn’t hurt that, with her body soaking wet from head to toe, every curve was on display.
Still wondering what real action lay ahead, Harry started realizing how tired his typically reliable body had grown already, how much energy he’d expended just by being nervous. Breathe, he reminded himself, trying to unwind.
Just then, Finn yelped a command. “Forward, forward, forward!” he shouted with panic in his voice.
Harry obeyed at once. He speared the water with his paddle, his right hand grasping its handle, his left wound around its neck, pulling, dragging the thing toward him against the river’s forceful pounding.
Bea let out a shout, and Jack whooped behind her.
The vessel plunged forward over a staircase of roaring drops, but despite the crew’s frantic, powerful effort, they boinged sideways into a giant rock, and now they were facing backward.
“Oh shit!” cried Finn as he leaned far over the back of the raft, dramatically ruddering it into a wild spin.
Harry couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying. In exchange for the faith he’d put in Leatherstocking, now he was about to die, swallowed up by some suctioning whirlpool.
They crashed and bobbed through the rapids like that, spinning in circles, for an eternity. Harry was dizzy. Teeth gritted, he wanted to jump out, but knew he was no match for the water’s relentless strength.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a giant splashing wave thwacked over his head, drenching him. He struggled to heave for air, and finally caught his breath as the water poured down to the floor, sloshing around at his ankles.
And then, without warning, the raft drif
ted into a calm pool.
The crashing waves finally eased, and Harry found himself drenched, but floating in a serene harbor. The abrupt silence startled him, made him realize he was actually still safe.
Alive.
He looked around, half dazed, wiping water off his face. Bea was still there, also soaking wet and panting, even laughing a bit, but fine. Jack was okay, too. And had a big grin on his face.
And then Harry heard the slow clap starting behind him.
Finn had started applauding, his paddle resting on his lap. “All right, my man, Riley!” he cheered with an approving grin. “You’ve made it three-quarters of the way through my thrilling tour. I pronounce you officially baptized. Now you’re one of us. My boy!” Finn hooted with glee.
“Nice run, man.” Jack gave Harry a clap on the shoulder, and Bea sat across from him trying not too hard to hide a snicker.
At last, still in a state of dazed astonishment, Harry realized he had just been royally pranked. “Oh, you dicks!” he said, shaking his head with a wobbly laugh.
“You should’ve seen your face,” Bea teased, belly-laughing.
Harry now realized that the yelp of fear from their guide back there was all part of Finn’s performance.
Digesting it, he was impressed by the showman, if a little perturbed. “Oh, damn, you guys suck. I can’t believe it. You had me totally fooled.” In hindsight, he couldn’t help laughing. “I thought we were gonna die.”
“That’s kinda the idea,” Finn said cheerfully.
Jack chuckled, but Bea wore a look of guilty pleasure.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked her.
She flashed a grin full of mischief.
“Don’t feel too bad, Riley,” Jack rumbled. “We only do that to people we like.”
Harry glanced over his shoulder. “What the hell do you do to your enemies?”
“Bury ’em in the woods,” Jack said without missing a beat.
“He’s kidding!” Bea exclaimed.
“That’s what she thinks.” With an idle laugh, Finn turned his face to the sunshine that had broken through. “Man, this day feels great. You know, Harry, you actually did really well. I almost thought we were gonna take a drink back there,” Finn said, “but you kept us steady in the front. Nice work.”