Page 25 of A Surefire Love
At least Mercy wasn’t turning her back on the friend she’d invited.
Anson and Nolan exchanged a look.
Nolan nodded. “Mercy’s the only one of them that can’t swim, and they’re all in life jackets.”
“All right,” Anson said. “But you three are going to have to listen to everything he tells you, okay?”
The girls cheered, but Blaze’s stomach plummeted. This arrangement left Anson to ride alone with Blaze. As Nolan and the girls loaded up, she fiddled with the nylon strap on her life jacket. Kids under the age of thirteen were required to wear them. Blaze was the only non-Rooted paddler who hadn’t stowed hers under her seat.
Anson hauled the last canoe as close to the water as he could with the girls still getting situated.
Blaze peered down at the metal seats. “I thought it wasn’t important to know how to swim for this.”
“A few places are too deep to stand. Besides, someone in each canoe has to know how to steer.”
“It can’t be that tricky.”
“Better safe than sorry.” He packed the remaining gear into the last canoe while Blaze eyed the road out. Hiking back to the outfitter’s lodge would take a while, but she’d rather hike than drown. Why had she committed to this?
A squeal from Mercy drew Blaze’s attention.
Nolan laughed as he wiggled in his seat, rocking the boat. “You don’t like turbulence?”
Amelia gripped both sides, and Mercy and Hadley launched shrill objections. But their smiles told another story. If that had been her, Blaze would’ve insisted on a different escort.
“Okay, okay.” Nolan quit rocking the boat and pushed them into the stream. “Smooth sailing from here, then.”
Soon, they slid around a bend and out of sight.
The remaining canoe scraped as Anson dragged it into the water. His T-shirt pulled taut across his back and shoulders as he waded knee-deep, leaving only the point of the canoe on dry land. He dipped his chin, indicating the seat closest to him. “I’ll keep it steady for you.”
She pointed to the closer bench. “Why can’t I sit on this side?”
“Because then you’d have to steer.”
“Maybe I want to steer.” She’d seen how far Mercy’s boat tipped. She’d rather not traipse the length of the canoe.
He straightened, the canoe bobbing against his legs. “You don’t know how.”
“I’m sure you’ll teach me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid of water.”
“So?”
“If you’re afraid, you should want to be in the best possible hands.”
His hands? Her breath fluttered with … must be fear, because it certainly wasn’t attraction. “Maybe I’d feel better if I were in control.”
“Even if you don’t know what you’re doing?” The skepticism in his voice contrasted with the peaceful bird calls and trickling water.
She nodded once, more definitively than she felt.
Anson scoffed, but amusement lit his eyes. “That’s a surefire way to fail.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Well, my nameisBlaze. Surefire failure is kind of my thing.”
His eyebrows lowered toward a scowl.
