Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Because we are alone now.
And that’s something I haven’t stopped thinking about ever since we embarked and the little towns along the shore became smaller and sparser.
“Alone, yes. Fifty or more miles from every demanding asshole and bitter disappointment. Even money can’t always buy that much solitude, Destiny.” He glances away again.
It’s fascinating how he relaxes when he paddles, like he’s truly content, even though he’s still vibrating raw power. Still, something about his giant, tight-wound body just loosens up here.
Though honestly, I’m a little more fascinated hearing my name.
It rolls off his lips like a tiger’s purr, a new word he has to taste to understand.
No, this isn’t the same man I met on Alki Point, all bluster and deep grudges against life.
That man didn’t seem like he could ever find any peace without a heaping risk of drowning and hypothermia.
I think I like this version of Foster better.
Dangerous thoughts, I know.
But I don’t have a prayer of stopping them as he looks at my face, then away, like his eyes might bleed if he stares at me too long.
“We’ve only got a few more hours of good light. We should rest and then bring it home.”
The minute I stretch my arms over my head, my aching upper body agrees.
Apparently, his version of a rest is to paddle up to shore so we can stretch our legs while eating another piece of flapjack.
“I’m happy it won you over,” I tell him between bites of my own. “I knew you had a sweet tooth in there somewhere.”
His eyes flick to me, already narrowed. “Woman, I have a calorie deficit from five hours of steady kayaking and nothing more. Also, any interest in homemade sugar highs stays strictly between us. Don’t make me put it in an NDA.”
He’s so ridiculous I laugh.
“A little late for a nondisclosure agreement over snacks, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t reply, ripping off another Shepherd-sized bite of his bar instead and chewing like he means business.
O-kay then.
“I’m so stiff,” I say, rolling my shoulders for the tenth time and trying not to wince. “Ow. You weren’t kidding about the workout.”
“You’d have an easier time if you’d quit hunching your back,” he says, tapping my shoulder blades. The contact jolts me. “Sit up straight in the boat. Let your arms take the strain.”
“Um, my arms definitely are taking the strain,” I say pointedly, waving them like overcooked noodles.
“They could be taking more. Some growing pains have to be expected, like any sport. It takes a while to break yourself in,” he says with an almost straight face.
But one corner of his lip curls.
I can’t tell if it’s a fun smile or something more vicious.
I also get hung up on that whole 'break yourself in' part.
Holy hell.
For the briefest second, I saw that look.
He was looking at me like someone he wanted.
“Watch out. That’s like the third joke you’ve told today,” I say so I don’t dwell on the other possibility. “You’re really going to ruin your supervillain mystique if you keep that up.”
“Like hell. Bad reputations are easy to get and nearly impossible to erase,” he says grimly. That almost-smile, almost-desire look disappears. “I wasn’t joking.”
“Don’t deny it! You absolutely did.”
“That was a statement of fact.”
I wave my flapjack bag at him. “I don’t think so. I bet you’re just a sadist who likes inflicting pain.”
“I’ll let you decide, Miss Destiny,” he growls, his gaze flicking from the last piece of flapjack to my face.
With a sigh, I hold it out to him as a peace offering. “Have at it. I don’t want to overstuff myself for the last leg of the trip.”
“As long as you don’t stuff it in my face again,” he grumbles.
I can’t help laughing.
This time, when he picks up his hunk of flapjack and stuffs it in his mouth, there’s an honest smile in his eyes.
A little while later, with our bellies full and our muscles stretched, he nods at his kayak and stands.
“Let’s get going.”
“Yep. Definitely a sadist,” I mutter.
He rewards me with an amused snort.
We don’t talk much as we set off again. I fidget with my small turtle necklace, pulling it out of my wet suit.
It’s brought me so much luck over the years it feels like an extension of my own skin.
But he does continue to teach me, barking back key information as we go.
He talks about the differences between ocean currents and freshwater, how to get through tricky inlets, how to push against choppy waters, what to do when you can’t, and how to survive when you’re being swept toward sharp rocks or a big-ass boat.
He should know, I guess.
Part of me wants to poke him again about his death-wish kayaking trip the day we met, but I don’t.
I’m smart enough to know when to zip it and just enjoy a nice evening.