Page 26 of A Surefire Love
Better move things along before he dug into that. She stabbed her hands onto her hips. “This isn’t just some point of male pride, is it? You’re actually good at this?”
He laid a hand over his heart. “I, Anson Marsh, solemnly swear to protect you from the raging torrent that is Pine Gully Creek.” The water sloshed as if to demand more respect. “Have I mentioned the person in back has to work harder? And in the front, you can enjoy the scenery instead of staring at the back of my head all day.”
Did that mean he would be staring at the back ofherhead all day? She chewed her lip and eyed the canoe. He’d better pay more attention to the water than her head.
Anson waved her forward. “Come on, or we’ll never catch up to the group.” He bent, grasping the bow of the canoe. “It’s going to wobble, but I won’t let it tip.”
If he did, she was out of here. The sand sucked at herslides as she stepped into the cool water. When she lifted her foot to get in the boat, the flap of her sandal flung water across Anson’s seat. She sucked in a breath and waited for a reprimand.
Instead, he nodded like he’d expected it and motioned her forward. “It’s most stable when you keep a low center of gravity.”
She crouched so her hands hovered above either side of the canoe and crept ahead. Anson maintained his hold on the bow. As she stepped over her seat and into the nose of the boat, her shin brushed his thumb.
He released his hold suddenly, and the boat rocked. She plopped onto the bench. Was there … a problem?
He sloshed to the shore. A moment later, he returned with a paddle. “Hold it like this. And paddle like this.” He reached the paddle forward, then drew it back. “Keep your body upright in your seat and reach with your arms, then twist your core. Nothing crazy or we’ll capsize.”
“You promised we wouldn’t.”
“No.” His voice rumbled low. “I promised to protect you from the river. That includes if we capsize, but I can’t protect you from yourself. If you do gymnastics up here, you’ll tip us.”
“Gymnastics? You’re seriously overestimating my athleticism.”
He eyed her. Usually, she didn’t mind having some curves, but the life jacket wasn’t doing her any favors. Neither were her pasty legs. Not that it mattered what Anson thought. He had a girlfriend who’d looked tanned and toned in her athletic shorts and tank top.
Shaking his head, he handed over the paddle. A moment later, the boat tipped treacherously as he hopped in. Shesquawked, but he didn’t apologize. With one last scrape of sand against the hull, the canoe glided into the stream.
She stuck her paddle in the water and attempted her first stroke. Awkward. She tried the other side. Also uncomfortable. She switched back, so her dominant hand was closest to the blade and tried to find a rhythm. Not easy when her arms tired quickly and she had to keep switching sides.
Anson didn’t correct her as they navigated the center of the waterway, so she must be doing something right. Like leaves falling from a tree, her fears dropped one by one and the gentle creek carried them away.
“We make a good team,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
“Right?” She twisted to see him.
He nodded once. “We get by.”
Her nightmares had been unfounded. Gliding down the stream was a kind of peaceful way to see Creation from a new perspective. She dipped her paddle back into the creek and hummed a worship song.
Blaze hadthe voice of an angel.
The thought wasn’t theologically sound. Nonetheless, it circled through Anson’s brain.
Blaze didn’t perform Christian music with The Signalmen. Today, though, perched in the bow of the canoe, she sang his favorite worship song. The quiet tones resonated, true and clear. Forget that he didn’t have anything special for a voice. He could hardly breathe for how badly he wanted to sing along.
He also longed to ask about her nickname. Maybe she’dtell the story if he offered to share a secret of his own. She’d probably scoff, disbelieving he had any. Boy, would she be surprised.
He longed for that too—to share the shocking parts of his story.
But they were in sight of Nolan, Mercy, and her friends now. The conversation he wanted required privacy.
Besides, baring his soul to Blaze would be unfaithful to Sydney. He already felt guilty. When her leg brushed his thumb earlier, the flare had shot through every cell in his body. Blaze lived up to her nickname—proximity to her was like standing next to a wildfire. The flames had died immediately, but it was all wrong.
His relationship with Sydney was more like a campfire. Enjoyable and useful. Healthy. He had no business wandering off toward a wildfire. At the picnic spot, he would assign Blaze to another leader and focus on the students.
For the thousandth time, Blaze switched her paddle from one side of the canoe to the other. For the thousandth time, he adjusted his stroke to keep them on course. They’d come to the deeper, narrower part of the creek. He couldn’t see the bottom. Based on how eagerly the nose of the canoe veered as they rounded a curve, the current pulled harder here too.
