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)
Oh, and no lesson would be complete without a nice, long lecture about avoiding ferry and shipping lanes. That’s huge.
Kayaking in Washington isn’t all just paddling around in the pretty sunlight and looking for seals and orcas.
We stop a few more times in calmer waters for my benefit.
Amazingly, Shepherd doesn’t even seem winded.
I have to remind myself where my arms actually attach.
It’s hard. Really hard.
But it feels good pushing my body in new, unexpected ways.
It feels even better when he offers approving glances, and when I steer myself around a half-sunken buoy that comes out of nowhere, he mouths, “Good girl.”
Oh, God.
I think I just died.
Overall, though, I’m hit with this weird sense of familiarity.
I’m listening intently, of course, but I’m far more glued to the way he moves, especially as our journey stretches on toward sunset.
When we hit a sharper current around some islands, he paddles harder, digging into the water like he owns it.
Tight, controlled motions.
Not tense, but powerful.
Like he’s his own force of nature, demanding respect, powered by the same mysterious anger I saw the day we met.
This last strait is challenging, for sure, with currents pulling and threatening to knock me off course.
I should be more focused on navigating, but all I can think about is him.
The madman from Alki Beach.
How I watched him moving like this with the same feeling back then, only now, I get to see it up close and personal.
The same powerful strokes.
The same strange sense of warring frustration and joy that he takes out on the elements.
Even now, though we’re pushing against the current, and he doesn’t look like it’s truly straining him. He only slows down to look back at me with concern.
“I’m good!” I call, flashing a thumbs-up.
But every time he dips his paddle into the water, I feel the sheer force behind it.
It’s enough to steal my breath away.
Later, when we’re through the worst of it, he glances over. When his eyes lock on mine, they’re wild and hot and strange.
They make me tingle all over.
The butterflies swarming my stomach weren’t there a second ago.
Why, Shepherd? Why do you row with such a grudge?
What made you so angry?
“Is there a reason you’re staring?” he asks sharply.
My face snaps away with a blush.
Oops. I didn’t realize I was.
“No reason. I just... I wish I could borrow a little of your stamina,” I say, my voice worn.
“Miss Destiny, if you saw my true stamina, I’m sure you wouldn’t be breathing,” he says darkly.
What the what?
He can’t mean—
I don’t ask.
I don’t dare.
My mind splits into innuendo-tainted chaos.
A terrible vision flashes of Shepherd’s hard body over mine, his jaw set and his eyes blue flames, growling my name as he works me over with the same brute energy he uses on the water.
His eyes narrow and his throat bobs as he swallows slowly.
Oh, God, am I really still looking?
He’s my boss, he’s my boss—but instead of waiting for some snappy comeback, he just nods.
“It’s rougher up ahead. Be ready,” he warns.
No kidding.
The water gets choppier still, fizzing and rushing around us hard enough to spin my bow off center.
And just when I thought the worst was over.
We’re passing through the narrows, without much room for mistakes around the rocks jutting out into the water.
The challenge makes me grin.
So does the chance to impress this man who’s rapidly driving me insane.
“I was born ready, dude,” I call back.
His eyes ignite as we set off together, paddling side by side at close range.
We’re almost close enough to touch as we plow forward.
I know he’s probably taking it slower for my sake, protecting me from taking on more than I can handle if he has to intervene. But the fact that I’m here with him, in the middle of nowhere, matching him stroke for stroke, feels oddly special.
Almost intimate.
I hear each splash as his paddle dips into the choppy waters.
My breathing synchronizes with his.
His paddle grazes mine, and the impact jolts up my arm like it’s his bare skin.
This freaking man.
He makes every part of me overly sensitive, and every bit of spray sends a shiver through me.
Adrenaline and fear and wonder rush through me as a wave shoves my kayak against a rock.
“Destiny?” Shepherd glances over in concern.
I shake my head, righting myself before anything dramatic happens.
“Damn nice save,” he says.
Yep.
We’re doing this, and I’m going to get through it without him diving in to come to my rescue. My lungs work hard, but I keep breathing through the saltwater spray.
My legs tremble as they brace against the footholds.
Stroke by stroke, I become a human rope of fire.
No arms.
No spine.
No pain.
Just a numb, chugging movement.
Forward!
With every wave, I know there’s a chance the next one could tip me over. And if it does, the rocks out here could scratch me up pretty bad.
This is the danger he mentioned miles back.