Page 36 of Finding London

It’s about a thirty-minute drive to the river where we will be renting a kayak. We spend that time talking about our tastes in music. Loïc is a fan of varying rock. He likes classic rock, the hair bands—including the rock ballads of the eighties and nineties—and the alternative bands from the past two decades. He listens to a station on satellite radio that plays nothing but this type of music. The last three songs have been by Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, and The Smashing Pumpkins—and the only reason I know this is because each band’s name shows on his radio display.

I, on the other hand, am a religious Top Forty Pop music fan. Loïc says I’m a sellout, and I have shallow tastes. I argue that my preferences are the best because I’m listening to what the majority of people like at the moment.

“The songs wouldn’t be among the Top Forty most popular songs on the radio if they weren’t good, right? My music is relevant.”

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you on that one.” He chuckles.

What does he know anyway?

Right next to the kayak rental is a mom-and-pop diner, so we each have a quick burger before getting started.

While Loïc is paying, Itry to be proactive, and I attempt to lift the kayak. The first thing I realize is that, despite how light and welcoming the kayak looks with its colorful plastic appearance, it is extremely heavy.

Or I’m just a complete wimp.

I grunt loudly in an unladylike fashion as I hoist one end of the kayak off the ground, but my hands slip. In an effort to catch the thing, I stumble on the wet ground. I let out a startled yell as my ass hits the slick earth, and the stupid wannabe boat falls on my legs.

Ouch! That’s going to turn lovely shades of blue and purple.

My eyes water from the event. It’s not as if I’m in excruciating pain, but it does sting a little, and my ego along with my shins are definitely bruised.

“London, what are you doing?” Loïc chuckles as he lifts the kayak off of me.

“I was trying to help.” I sniffle, completely embarrassed.

My confession causes him to laugh some more as he grabs my hand and lifts me into a standing position against his chest. He hugs me, pulling me into his warmness, while one of his hands rubs soothingly up and down my back. Against my cheek, I can feel the vibrations of the laughter he’s trying to hide, but I don’t care. I’ll fall more often to be held by Loïc.

I’m a true mess around him and extremely wishy-washy. One minute, I’m asserting my will, letting him know that I will not be walked all over, reminding him that I’m a strong, desirable woman who demands respect. The next, I’m a sniffling damsel in distress who’s contemplating what other precarious situations I can get myself into, so he’ll hold me like this again.

I’m an embarrassment to women’s rights everywhere.

He releases his hold. His hands grab on to my upper arms and push me back a bit. His amused gaze finds my embarrassed one. “You okay?”

I nod.

“Good.” He leans down and kisses my forehead before his grasp releases my arms. “Then, let’s go. I’ll handle the kayak.” He winks.

Cocky bastard.

He points to the life jackets by his feet. “Can you grab those?”

I pick up the vests and then say, “You know, it’s your fault.”

He lifts the kayak over his head, like it weighs nothing. His shirt rises with the motion, and I can see his tight stomach muscles and the V that disappears beneath his shorts. I force my eyes upward, only to be met with the sculpted muscles of his arms as they tighten to hold the kayak.

“Oh, really? How so?” He chuckles.

My focus snaps to his deep blues as he waits for my response. “Oh, well…you made me change into flip-flops, and they have no traction, which caused me to slip,” I answer petulantly.

He shakes his head in amusement and starts walking toward the water. “Right, and your heels would have been better?”

“Whatever.” I follow after him.

“You know what, London? I think you have an issue with being wrong or corrected.”

“I do not,” I protest.I so do.

“You do, and it’s kind of a big flaw. It makes you seem spoiled.”

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