Page 49 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Hey,” I say when she’s finally within earshot.
She smiles wide. “Hey.” She looks around appreciatively. “This place is great.”
There isn’t much to Triple Mountain. The main building is simple. Metal walls on a concrete slab, with enormous doors that, when they’re open—and they almost always are—make the place feel more like a picnic pavilion than an actual building. In the winter when it’s cold, Griffin pulls the doors closed, but in the summer months, it’s easy to leave them open. This close to the water, and with the shade of the tree cover overhead, we don’t have to worry about it getting too hot.
“Griffin gets the credit for that,” I say, tilting my head toward the counter behind me. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.” I hold up the paperwork. “And there’s some stuff for you to sign before we get you geared up.”
Griffin is polite but distant as he explains what Kate is signing. “I know the drill,” she says casually as she scribbles her signature across the bottom of the form. “Basically, if I manage to drown, it isn’t your fault.” She eyes me. “Or Brody’s.”
Griffin smiles. “You’d have to work pretty hard to drown on Brody’s watch. I’d trust him to take my grandma down the rapids, and she can’t swim.”
“I guess I’m in good hands then.”
Oh,I want her to be in my hands, all right. Every inch of her. In my hands. In my arms. In my living room sprawled on my couch while we watch movies and talk about nothing. In my bed when I wake up in the morning. In my kitchen when I fix my morning coffee. I want all of it. All ofher.
I was a fool to ever think I could survive having her around all summer and come out on the other side unscathed. Kate Fletcher is my kryptonite. I was done for the minute she sent that first text before my hike. Before she ever set foot back in Silver Creek. “Come on. I’ve got all our gear ready to go.”
She waves goodbye to Griffin, and after storing her stuff in one of the lockers that line the back wall, she follows me outside. “Is there not anyone else in the class?” she asks as she looks around. I intentionally picked a time for Kate’s lesson when the school wasn’t busy, so there isn’t anyone else around.
I lift an eyebrow. “Were you expecting there to be?”
She shrugs. “I guess I was. I just assumed there would be a bunch of us learning at once.”
“Even when we have a group, we never have more than three kayakers to one instructor. But today, you get me all to yourself.”
She shoots a saucy grin over her shoulder. “Do you talk this way to all the girls?” She bats her eyelashes playfully.
I run a hand across my face. If she even had half a clue what she’s doing to me . . .
I gather up our gear, handing her a couple of paddles to carry, then lead her down to the river where I’ve already left our kayaks.
“Am I going to be cold?” Kate asks, looking down at her exposed torso. “I know you said to bring layers just in case. I have a base layer I can put on if you think I’ll need it.”
I glance toward the sky, but where we’re standing, it’s a futile gesture. I can only see tiny slivers of blue through all the trees. But I double and triple-checked the forecast. There’s no threat of rain, and where we’ll be on the river, there will be enough sun to keep us comfortable. “You’ll be fine without it.”
“What about my shoes?” She holds up one foot, her well-worn Chaco sandal on display. I can only imagine the places she’s been in those shoes. “I don’t have any water shoes, but I figured since these strap on, they would probably work?”
“They’ll work great.” I pick up her PFD. “Here. Let’s do this first. Before we get in the kayaks, I want you to swim around for a minute and make sure you’re comfortable in your PFD.”
“Is that the same thing as a life jacket?” She takes it and slips it on, and I step closer so I can adjust the fit.
“Not quite. Well, more like yes and no. All life jackets are personal flotation devices—PFDs—but not all PFDs are life jackets.” My fingers graze along her abdomen as I check her straps and make sure she’s in securely, and a trail of goose flesh erupts across her skin. My fingers still for the briefest moment—it’smytouch she’s reacting to—and I clear my throat. “A PFD allows for more mobility, which is necessary when you’re kayaking. Itwillkeep you afloat, but it won’t necessarily save your life. It’s just meant to assist you when you need it, so don’t get cocky.”
“Got it. No cockiness allowed,” she says. “But I promise the last thing I’m feeling is overconfident.”
I pause. “Is the great adventurer Kate Fletcher feeling nervous about getting in a kayak? Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve never done this before. It feels like you’ve done everything.”
“Not everything. I did go on a three-day kayak trip through the Southern French Alps, but the water was calm the whole way. There were no spray skirts or helmets involved.”
“Actually, that experience should help you a lot. Kayaks can be pretty tippy. If you’re used to feeling the way your body movements can rock them, you’re better off than a lot of beginners.”
After a few more minutes in the water, making sure all of her gear fits comfortably, I walk Kate through the steps necessary for a wet exit, should she find herself upside down once she’s inside her kayak. She’s a quick study, so within a few more minutes, we’re in the water, Kate in her kayak, me standing in the water beside her.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She nods. “So far so good. But I have a feeling you’re getting ready to flip me upside down.”
I grin. “I’ll be right here the whole time. This first time, I don’t want you to worry about trying to exit. Just hold your breath and try to relax. Count while you’re underwater and if you can swing it, go all the way to ten, even twenty seconds. When you want to come back up, or when you get to twenty, whichever comes first, reach up and tap the bottom of your boat, and I’ll flip you back up.”
