Page 52 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I move wordlessly to Griffin’s truck and grab the last of the gear out of the back. He slides the paddles into a giant storage barrel while I hang the PFD Kate wore over a line to dry.
“For what it’s worth, man, it definitely looks like there’s something going on between you two.”
“There’s not,” I say. I slide the helmets onto a shelf. “I told you we’re just friends.” A wave of weariness washes over me. I am so tired of telling this story.
Griffin eyes me warily, like I’m a tiger about to pounce. Ifeellike a tiger about to pounce. Like I’m full of energy—emotion—I can’t channel into anything useful. It’s maddening.
I turn to leave, then pause. “Hey, thanks for today,” I say to Griffin. “I appreciate it.”
He nods. “Anytime, man.”
I head toward my truck, pausing when Griffin calls my name. “Brody.”
I turn around.
“You okay?”
I nod and lift my hand in acknowledgment. It’s not like I haven’t played this game before.
Spend time with Kate.
Fall more in love with Kate.
Remember that Kate isn’t mine to love.
And repeat it all again the next day.
Still, the way she looked at me today, the way she—
I stop the thought and shake my head. Even if the email she isn’t telling me about isn’t one that will send her off again, some other email or phone call or shiny new idea eventually will.
Just like it always does. Like it always has before. Like it always will.
Chapter Fourteen
Kate
Ohmylantaseeing Brody lift a kayak over his head was something.
Let’s just state the obvious right up front. Seeing a man combine talent with hard-earned skill then top it all off with a blatant display of raw masculinity? Good grief. I was tempted to flip out of my kayak a dozen more times just to watch him do it again.
I would have had fun kayaking today with anyone as my guide. Once I got over the fear of flipping upside down, the thrill of moving through the rapids so quickly was intoxicating. It made me feel powerful. Capable.
At the same time, I was constantly aware of the water’s dominance, how much it would control me if I stopped paying attention even for a second. The excitement of that contrast? I could get used to that.
But there’s no denying it wasmorefun because Brody was the one teaching me how to do it. I loved watching him love what he was doing.
He was perfect.
Patient. Attentive. Steady. Strong. He was everywhere I needed him to be at the precise moment I needed him to be there. It’s his job, I know. But it felt like more than that.
Then we got back to my car and my phone...and I got an email.
An unbelievable email.
A wholly unexpected email.
Here’s the thing. I am not the world’s greatest travel writer. I am scrappy and resilient and very good at getting myself into places where unusual stories are found. That’s the only thing that makes me great at my job. I don’t have an English degree. I never attended college at all. The only thing that qualifies me to keep doing my job is the fact that I’ve been doing it for so long. I have earned my place at the freelance table.
