Page 20 of Kayak Girl

He blinked, a moment of uncertainty crossing his features before he stepped back. The space he left behind was filled with his easy laughter. “Sorry about that,” he replied, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I think this kitchen needs a ladder.”

His words hung in the air, light and teasing. He’d shifted gears so quickly that I wondered if I’d dreamed the last minute. He looked like he wanted to kiss me, right? The thought was as startling as it was brief, floating away like a leaf caught in the wind. No, Gray and I were just two people, standing in a kitchen that had certainly seen better days. We were friends, nothing more, even if my body occasionally dared to suggest otherwise.

Eventually, against all odds, we managed to produce a batch of respectable cookies. Gray, with his easy smile, turned to me. “You know, when I first came in here, I was secretly convinced these cookies were a lost cause. But you’ve salvaged them. Well done.”

I laughed, feeling oddly accomplished. “Thanks, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Chapter 14

GRAY

That kayak session with Elle should have been a clear warning sign, a bright red flag waving frantically to caution me about the precarious edge I was teetering on with her. But no, I had to help her bake cookies, which led to that moment with the vanilla essence. Well, that was enough to convince me of the need to step back. I knew I was treading on thin ice, feeling things I shouldn’t. So, in a desperate attempt to regain control, I decided to distance myself from her. This evening’s escape plan?

The church soup kitchen.

It was the perfect distraction, a place where the cacophony of clanging pots and the heartfelt chatter of volunteers could drown out the echo of Elle’s laughter in my mind. I thought if I could just lose myself in the service of others, I could somehow quiet the storm she’d unwittingly stirred. I could reclaim a semblance of equilibrium in a world that suddenly felt tilted in her direction.

“Fancy seeing you here,” said a familiar voice in a playful tone.

I looked up and tried for a smile, but it felt tight, and a little awkward. The sight of her, with her gentle eyes and the way her hair fell softly around her shoulders, sent an unexpected jolt through me, stirring all the emotions I’d been trying to keep at bay.

“Ah, why do you look so disappointed to see me? I thought we were the dream team,” she teased.

“That’s the problem. We’re too good together. You know, at this rate, we might just end up taking over the world,” I joked, trying to keep the mood light, even as I felt an undercurrent of truth in my words.

“Ha-ha. Not likely,” she laughed off, but the ease between us was unsettling, a reminder of how well we meshed. Determined to be sensible I resumed my chopping.

She moved to stand next to me. “But you sure are chopping those carrots with the intensity of a warrior in battle, so you might conquer the veggie world.”

“Just honing my skills,” I quipped, hoping my voice didn’t betray the sudden acceleration of my heart. “You never know when a rogue carrot might attack.”

Her laughter, warm and genuine, filled the space between us, easing the tension. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Thought you’d be at the camp with the others.”

She shrugged, a lock of hair falling over her shoulder. “I made a commitment to help at this soup kitchen before I started at the camp. Didn’t seem right to back out just because something else came up.”

“I admire that,” I admitted, my voice softening. “So, how has your afternoon been?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation casual.

She smirked. “Oh, you know, just the usual touristy stuff. I tried convincing a seagull that I didn’t want to share my lunch. It didn’t go as planned.”

I laughed, picturing the scene. “The seagull probably couldn’t resist the pull of spending time with you. I don’t blame him.”

Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. It was a dangerous game I was playing. One look from her and I found myself struggling to remember why keeping away was so important in the first place. Yet the shadow of past mistakes loomed over me, a constant reminder to guard my heart.

I cleared my throat. “Would you mind taking over the carrot station? Just chuck them into this pot when you’re done. One of the ladies here will sort out the rest. If any of the carrots step out of line, feel free to call on me. I’ll help set up the tables,” I said, creating the space I needed, yet didn’t truly want.

Space hardly helped. Now I just got to witness Elle from across the room. I found myself stealing glances at her, admiring the ease with which she interacted with everyone around us. Elle didn’t just serve soup; she served kindness, making each person she spoke to feel seen and valued. It was one of the many things I liked about her.

As the evening wound down, I was stacking chairs when Elle’s gentle tap on my shoulder startled me. She handed me a glass of ice water with a warm smile. “Thank you,” I said, raising the glass to hide the turmoil in my own gaze.

“So, rumor has it that you don’t normally help out at the soup kitchen during the summer camp. How come you’re here this evening?”

I paused, searching for an answer that wouldn’t reveal too much. “I’m usually worn out from camp, but tonight... I just felt like helping out. Needed a change of scenery,” I said, skirting around the truth. The real reason, the driving force behind my actions, was standing right in front of me.

“I get that,” she nodded, understanding yet unknowing. “I’m heading back now. Do you want to walk with me?”

The offer tempted me more than I cared to admit, but I couldn’t risk it. “No, I need to stay and lock up. You go ahead.”

“I can stay and help,” she offered, her eyes searching mine.

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