Page 25 of The Love Clause

She's right about the attention. Harrison and several others have paused their own canoes to watch our recovery, and I can see the barely concealed amusement on their faces. Pride overrides common sense, and I begin paddling as well.

"Left side only for now," I direct. "We need to correct our heading."

"I know how to paddle, Elliot."

"Evidence suggests otherwise."

We manage to establish a tense rhythm, moving forward with marginally more stability than before. Our wet clothes cling uncomfortably, and I can see Josie shivering slightly despite her determined strokes. The mountain sun is warm, but the breeze across the water cuts through our drenched attire.

"This is your fault, you know," she says after we've put some distance between ourselves and the others.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You overcorrected. I felt the canoe shift when you leaned the wrong way."

"I overcorrected because you turned around suddenly, destabilizing an already precarious balance."

"I turned around because you were being a control freak about my paddling!"

"I was providing necessary guidance based on our canoe's trajectory."

"You were backseat canoeing," she counters, her paddling becoming more forceful with her irritation. "Just like youbackseat everything. God forbid anything happen that isn't precisely according to your master plan."

"Someone needs to have a plan," I respond, my own strokes matching her intensity. "Or we end up in situations like this—soaking wet in the middle of a lake, arguing about who's to blame."

"You want to talk blame? Fine." She stops paddling entirely and turns to face me, causing the canoe to wobble dangerously. "Let's talk about how you've been hot and cold this entire weekend. One minute you're sharing a blanket with me like we're actually a couple, the next you're running away like I've got the plague."

"I haven't been?—"

"Yes, you have!" She jabs her paddle in the air for emphasis, sending water droplets flying. "You were jealous of Blake, don't even try to deny it. But instead of admitting it like a normal human being with actual emotions, you hide behind 'the arrangement' and 'the objective' and whatever other robot phrases you use to avoid admitting you might actually feel something!"

Her words hit with unexpected precision, striking too close to truths I've been avoiding. "This is hardly the place?—"

"It's the perfect place! No one can hear us, and you can't run away unless you want another swim." Her eyes flash with challenge, droplets of lake water still clinging to her eyelashes. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you didn't feel something by the fire last night. Tell me you didn't hate seeing me talk to Blake."

"You're being irrational," I deflect, even as something hot and uncomfortable builds in my chest. "We have a business arrangement with clearly defined parameters?—"

"Oh my god, do you hear yourself?" She throws up her hands, nearly losing her paddle. "Clearly defined parameters? We're pretending to be engaged! There's nothing clear about any ofthis! Especially not the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

The canoe rocks as she leans forward, her voice dropping despite there being no one near enough to hear. "Admit it, Elliot. Just once, be honest about what you actually want instead of what makes logical sense in your perfectly ordered world."

"What I want," I say through clenched teeth, "is for you to stop rocking the boat—literally and figuratively—before we end up in the water again."

"See? Deflection. Always deflection." She shakes her head, sending more water flying. "God forbid the great Elliot Carrington admit he's a human being with normal human desires?—"

"What I desire," I snap, patience finally fracturing, "is for you to stop pushing me at every turn! You've been deliberately provocative since the moment we met. Testing boundaries, ignoring instructions, creating chaos where there should be order?—"

"Because order is so overrated!" she fires back. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your precious control is just fear dressed up in a fancy suit? That maybe, just maybe, you're terrified of what happens when you let go for even a second?"

"And has it occurred to you that your so-called spontaneity might be a convenient excuse to avoid commitment or responsibility? That creating constant chaos ensures you never have to face consequences or establish anything lasting?"

Her eyes widen at this direct hit, and I immediately regret the harshness of my words. But she recovers quickly, leaning even closer despite the canoe's precarious wobble.

"At least I'm living, Elliot. At least I'm not hiding behind leather portfolios and fifty-page contracts to avoid admitting what I actually want!"

"And what exactly do you think I want, Josie?" The question comes out rougher than intended, almost a growl.

"This," she says simply.

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