Page 30 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

Looking at me over her shoulder, she nods. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

I grin. This woman is perfection. I pass her the oar in my hand and pick up the other one stowed in the canoe, using it to shove us away from the dock. “Let me know when you want to head back.”

She gives me a thumbs up over her shoulder, her oar dipping into the water on her right. I put mine in on the left, sending us straight out into the water.

“There’s a little bay around the curve over there with a sandy beach. It’s only accessible by boat, and there aren’t any houses there. Want to check it out?”

The smile she gives me over her shoulder takes my breath away. “That sounds fantastic.”

We fall into an easy rhythm, and I switch sides when Anna does unless I need to course correct to get us around the bend to the place I have in mind. I hadn’t planned on suggesting this, since the invitation was for the fire and s’mores, but I’m glad I did. It’s peaceful out here, the only sounds the slap of the water against the canoe, the swish and splash of the oars, and the faint sounds of boats elsewhere on the lake. The cabin we rented is remote enough that we’re not bothered by neighbors often, and we’re in our own little bay on the long, wiggly lake. It’s amazing that a place so close to town isn’t more populated, making the cabin even more of a gem, and the price for it seems reasonable, all things considered.

And watching Anna’s back as she rows is more of a turn-on than I expected. She’s gorgeous. The lines of her back as she wields the oar pulling her shirt taut, the nip of her waist accentuated by the shirt she has tied around it, the muscles in her arms standing out as she pulls the oar …

Most of the women I’ve dated are the spin class and pilates types, and their exercise is carefully controlled and regimented by their schedule. Additional activities were rarely allowed and had to be planned well in advance.

I wonder if Anna’d ever go ice skating with me?

A vision of her in leggings and a sweater, holding my hand as we glide around the ice fills my mind, and it seems perfect.

That’s the ideal, isn’t it? A woman who’s happy to be with me, having fun and spending time together? And I need someone who’s willing to be active because no matter what comes next, I’ve never been the type of guy who can sit still and do nothing for long.

Anna gasps as we round the bend, picking up her oar and just basking in the beauty before us. I can’t blame her. My own strokes slow as I look around too. There’s no one here, which is perfect, though it’s obvious people come here at least occasionally. There’s a fire ring on the beach and when I was here yesterday, I cleaned up wrappers, bottles, and cans that someone else had left behind. Hopefully, there’s no new litter since then.

“This is beautiful,” Anna says over her shoulder, and I grin.

“I agree. Do you mind getting your feet wet?”

“Not at all,” she says with a sweet smile.

I resume rowing, and Anna laughs, the sound pure joy as I speed us toward the beach. She keeps her oar across the boat over her legs, which is fine because I’ve got it covered. I run us aground, the prow of the canoe biting deeply into the sand. Stowing the oar in the boat, I kick off my flip-flops, intending to get out first and hold the canoe steady so Anna can climb out. But before I do, she’s already out of her seat, holding onto the edge of the canoe while she climbs out like she does this frequently.

“You sure you haven’t been in a canoe since middle school?” I ask, watching her with a big, goofy grin on my face. She’s completely unselfconscious, letting out a little shriek as she hits the water.

“It’s cold!” she exclaims, meeting my eyes.

I nod. “Aren’t you from around here? Don’t you know the lake is cold year round?”

She shrugs, walking up onto the beach to make room for me to climb out as well. “I haven’t been in the lake much here. So no, not really.”

The canoe shifts a little as I climb forward to get out in the shallower water, but stays embedded in the sand. Once I’m out, I pull the canoe farther up the beach, then step in front of Anna, my eyebrows raised in question. “How long have you lived here?”

“Four years,” she answers quietly. “Almost exactly. I moved at the beginning of June.”

“You’ve been here for four years, and you’ve never gotten into the water?”

Shaking her head, she looks away, turning to take in the cove. There’s a line where the land falls away, tree roots visible. It must be the high water mark, which means this beach is underwater at least part of the year. Above that line, tall trees surround us, cutting us off from the rest of the world. It feels like we’re all alone here, and it feels good getting Anna all to myself, even if it’s only for a short while.

“No,” she says quietly. “I haven’t explored the area much. I mostly just work and go home.”

“Really?” The question is out before I can stop myself, and I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’ll dart away. Not literally, of course, but she could easily retreat back into her shell of anxiety and self-consciousness.

But she doesn’t. She glances at me, then resumes her study of our surroundings, stepping away from me to walk slowly around the fire ring, trailing her fingers along the edge of the giant driftwood log off to one side. “I’ve been”—she tilts her head to one side as she looks for the right word—“hibernating I guess is the best way to put it.” She glances at me then. “But I think I’m ready to stop.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Anna

I stare at Troy, my confession hanging in the air between us. I wonder if he realizes that it’s a significant thing for me to admit. Or if he’ll ask questions, like why was I hibernating? And why am I ready to stop now?

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