Page 51 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
“For round two?”
“And three.” He grinned and kissed her. “And four.”
“Do not paddle,” Liam growled. “Just relax.”
“I can paddle,” she hissed over her shoulder, trying not to tip the kayak. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”
The grunt he gave said otherwise, but she wasn’t giving in. They’d always beenthe coupleto beat in any group activity—until it came down to kayaking, their one weakness. Liam expected her to just let him do all the work, but that wasn’t going to happen.
It wasn’t her fault they could never get their paddling in sync.
And really, she should surrender. The inflatable kayak stashed on the boat had been a last-minute call, and she could admit that it was the right one. When they’d passed the inlet near Watson’s shack, Liam switched course, guiding the boat out of sight. Now, with the kayak, they could sneak up along the water’s edge undetected, weaving through the marsh and tall trees growing directly off the shore.
Jamison’s paddle dipped too hard, sending a spray of water over the bow. The dark, sluggish waves slapped against the side of the kayak, bouncing them a little too close to the knotted cypress roots.
She sucked a sharp breath as Liam corrected their course. “I could have done that. Why don’t you let me lead for a second?”
Liam’s paddle tapped her shoulder playfully, cold water dripping onto her shirt. “Not gonna happen.”
“Fine.” Resting her paddle across her lap, she gave in, glancing back to find Liam grinning over his victory. “Happy?”
“Delirious.”
They drifted closer, inching along the edge of the swamp until the shack came into full view.Shackreally was the perfect word for the place. Leaning slightly, the structure looked one strong wind away from collapse. In contrast, the dock appeared to be in perfect shape. Nice and stable, it was ideal for most mid-sized vessels.
“How the hell did I miss this?” Liam whispered, keeping his voice low to avoid it carrying over the water. “I swear this wasn’t here when CeCe died, but now, I honestly can’t remember if we swept this far out from the scene.”
Jamison scanned the shoreline, nodding toward the dock. “Look at the wood on the house versus the dock. It’s new. That means it either wasn’t here when CeCe died, or it was in such bad shape back then that no one paid attention to it.”
“Which means someone recently constructed it.”
Just then, the shack’s back door creaked open, and a man stepped out. Even from this distance, it was obvious he was on the short side. Jamison sat up and squinted as if it would help her see better.
“Is that Watson?”
Liam extracted a compact pair of binoculars from the pocket of his board shorts and handed them to her. “That’s him, but I don’t see anyone else.”
Peering through the lens, she stared at the man pacing slowly across the lawn with his hands in his pockets. He had dark hair and a scraggly mustache that needed some attention. Even in the warm weather, he wore a flannel shirt and jeans.
“Why is he dressed like a mountain man?” She passed the binoculars back to Liam. “A flannel shirt and jeans in this weather? Seriously?”
Placing the binoculars on the kayak floor, Liam studied the area as he thought through his plan. “Watson has scars on his arms, and he doesn’t like for people to see them.”
Jamison found the man’s insecurity intriguing and thought about how she could use it to their advantage. “When we head over there, how am I playing this?”
Liam no longer wanted her to be Jamison Fairweather. Instead, they were going to pretend to be tourists on the hunt for rainbow swamps. Natural reflections where oil-slicked water and refracted sunlight appeared to capture the colors of a rainbow, tourists were known to lose their damn minds over them.
“Be cute,” Liam said, still scanning the shoreline. “Bubbly, maybe?”
“Sweet Jesus,” she grumbled. “I have never in my life been bubbly.”
He chuckled softly. “Flirt with him. Like Taylor does with your dad.”
She recoiled, almost tipping the kayak. “Now you’re pushing it.”
“You can punish me later.” Using his paddle, he nudged them free of the tangled roots they’d been using for cover. “You ready?”
Jamison pressed her lips together, trying to smooth out the electric pink coating them. Her makeup felt like stage prosthetics, heavy and unnatural. “I guess so.”
