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)
The jarring change from pretty sightseeing to holy shit, no, before you can blink.
But I’m not scared.
I’m here with Shepherd, immersed in it, and honestly, it’s flipping incredible.
There’s a silver lining to how rapidly things change on the water.
Just as I’m preparing for another intense stretch, I’m jerked back by my own exertion.
Without warning, we break past the sharp currents into calmer waters. And I can actually take a second to enjoy the adrenaline shot to my veins.
I set my paddle down, shake out my arms, and take a few badly needed breaths of briny air.
Then I do the only thing I can.
I laugh.
Arms spread wide to the sky, I throw my head back and just let myself be for one glorious second.
If he wasn’t looking at me like a crazy girl before—
No. I don’t care.
It’s too much, this giddy feeling of accomplishment, all while I’ve just shared something so intimate with this bizarre, broody suit.
When I can finally straighten up again and breathe normally, he’s still looking at me.
Probably trying to decide whether or not I’ve lost my mind.
Honestly, I wonder, too.
But he must see something I don’t.
Because Shepherd Foster gives me a smile.
A rare, genuine smile, spurred on by what we’ve just shared.
The unexpected sight makes my heart skip in the wildest of ways.
And I have absolutely no clue what to do with that.
So I just smile back, shaking my head.
My heart soars halfway to the sun. I’m still a little scared because this is uncharted territory—just like all of today.
But my heart settles as he nods quietly, and we paddle on, together, into the evening light.
It’s deep into dusk by the time we reach a small island just past Eagle Creek, and it hits me just how crazy this trip has been.
I. Am. Exhausted.
I’m fairly fit, but this was such a gauntlet I’m practically glued to my kayak and rendered boneless.
The plan is to camp overnight at the marine park before venturing out in the morning to scout for sea otters or signs they’ve been here.
A few recent sightings have me pumped.
But as I brace my weary arms against the side of the kayak, they give way.
Everything that came so easy this morning, even when we stopped for lunch, now feels impossible. I can’t freaking move.
I didn’t even notice my legs doing that much work, but now I’m aware they’re also jelly.
Shepherd hops out of his kayak and parks it on the finer sand, without noticing how dead I am at first.
I shamelessly stare at his ass because I can’t do anything else.
It’s magnificent.
I’m also far too beat to feel any regret over checking out my boss.
I’m a hot-blooded girl, okay?
I have needs that get neglected a lot when I have a busy life with goals and not too many boyfriends worth keeping around.
I have eyes and Shepherd’s body is too wicked for a man over forty.
The whole older 'daddy' thing never did much for me before, but with him—
No.
Nope, we’ll blame it on adrenaline and exhaustion.
Finally, he turns around to look at me.
I gesture hopelessly with my paddle in the air.
“Um, a little help? I can’t get out.” I make another half-hearted attempt to stand and fail comically.
Shepherd stares at me for a second before he laughs.
He laughs—a real belly laugh—and it’s a happy sound that vibrates through me.
Not cruel, either, but warm and understanding.
There goes my heart again as he strides over to where the waves meet the beach.
He grabs the front of my kayak effortlessly and hauls it out of the water.
No sweat.
No big deal.
No small favor with bigger muscle.
Damn, I’ll admit it.
Right now, I am thirsty as hell.
I’ve been ogling him all day and he still hasn’t stopped getting hotter.
“There,” he says when I’m safely on the sand. “Can you get out now?”
I try.
I really do.
But my body simply won’t cooperate.
I guess my legs forgot they’re supposed to be a flesh and bone team, and my arms feel totally disconnected from my shoulders.
“This is so embarrassing,” I say, but he just releases the end of the kayak and steps closer.
“Save it, Destiny. You worked your ass off today and there’s no point in feeling shamed. Even if I’m going to carry you.”
What?
He bends down, and before I can register what’s happening, he does it.
Picks. Me. Up.
As in, I am in his arms right now, damsel in distress style, legs hooked over one arm while his other arm lends back support.
The world spins as I weakly wrap my arms around his neck.
And oh.
Oh.
He’s almost superheated with exertion through his wet suit.
The shelter of his arms makes me aware just how massive he really is.
I’m so used to being the same height as most of the men around me—often taller—but this guy makes me feel small.
That’s a miracle in itself.
And he’s breathing harder now.
I’m pretty sure he wasn’t when he dragged my kayak up onto the shore. His arms tighten around me, drawing me closer.