Page 18 of Anchored

The tip of the canoe hits some tall reeds sticking out of the water, which slows down the canoe. Holt curses again, this time a little more vehemently.

“Are we lost?” I ask, sitting on my seat doing absolutely diddly squat with my oar. Instead, I decide to save the dog and scoop her up into my lap. She licks my face for putting her on higher ground.

More reeds tug on the front of the canoe, and before I can question him further, we’re fully stopped.

“Umm.”

“Fucking hell,” Holt snaps. “I forgot flashlights.”

A giggle bubbles up my throat, but I try to swallow it back. “I have my phone.”

I pull it out of my back pocket and turn the flashlight on. The tiny ray of light is enough to show we’ve rowed right into a thick marshy area I didn’t see when we were rowing out.

Holt shifts forward and Mookie and I brace as the canoe rocks. His hand covers mine, shifting the phone to shine the light toward the embankment a good twenty feet away. He turns back to me, his hair in disarray from both the water I splashed on him and from running his fingers through it just now.

“Think you can swim it in?”

I look around, assessing the situation. More water has come into the canoe. My feet are completely submerged. There’s no dock anywhere near. And the canoe is stuck in the reeds. By the time we got it loose, we’d have sunk another few inches at the very least.

“Yeah, I can swim it.” I’m not sure about that, but I don’t seem to have much choice.

“Okay, leave the oars and the blankets. I’ll take Mookie.” Holt plucks her from my lap and tucks her between his shoulder and neck before gingerly climbing over the side of the canoe.

I wait until the thing stops rocking and then follow suit, taking much longer and whimpering every time the thing rocks in warning. I shouldn’t care if the whole damn canoe tips over. I can’t get much wetter than completely submerged in the lake. Which I am the second I successfully climb over the edge. At least the water’s warm this time of year.

Holt swims to the shore, his head moving several body lengths with each powerful stroke of his arms. I’m doing more of a doggy paddle with one arm while I hold my phone over my head in the other, inching my way across the lake. Mookie has climbed halfway on top of Holt’s head, her wet stubby tail in his face as she stares back at me struggling. Every few strokes, he turns around and looks for me, swiping the tail out of his face. If I wasn’t fighting for my life, I’d laugh my ass off.

Eventually, all three of us make it to shore, though we have to be a good half mile from the cabin still. Mookie is shaking in her harness, not from cold, because it isn’t cold outside, but probably from fright. Holt pulls me into his chest the second I drag myself out of the water. His hug is warm and tight and exactly the comfort I need when I’m sopping wet and pretty sure I inhaled some lake water into my lungs.

“Damn,” he murmurs, stroking the back of my wet hair. “This is why I don’t date anymore. I’m so sorry I didn’t check the boat. Or bring a flashlight.”

“It’s okay,” I pant into his naked chest. “I haven’t been on a date since Dexter the Dick. And this was far better of an evening than any of my dates with him.”

Holt’s chest rumbles and I have to pull my cheek off his chest to realize he’s laughing. The whole situation—minus our almost-drowning—makes me laugh too, and before you know it, we’re breaking apart, belly laughing at our adventure. Mookie whines and gives us her backside like she’s embarrassed to be seen with us.

Holt grabs my hand as our laughter winds down. “Let’s head home, huh?”

We walk hand in hand, the little flashlight on my phone giving off just enough light so that we don’t trip and hurt ourselves. It’s peaceful out, just an owl hooting in the distance, the smell of barbecues and bonfires layering over the scent of water and inner tubes left out in the sun all day. We don’t pass another soul on the little path that leads around the lake on the south side, which is good because we’re soaking wet and Holt’s only half dressed. I’m assuming everyone else actually made it to the bonfire.

“So…” Holt says after a good ten minutes of walking. “What do you actually do for work?”

“Ah.” I suck in a deep breath. I was wondering when that was going to come up again. Staring straight ahead, I force myself to tell the truth, even if Holt thinks I’m weird. Wouldn’t be the first time I heard someone say that about me.

“Well, I started out as a dog walker when I first went to college. I’ve always had a way with animals. But then I had my first complicated dog who kept trying to bite the other dogs. I worked with him every day and suddenly he wasn’t a biter any longer. Word spread, and before you knew it, I was dropping out of college to be a full-time pet counselor.”

Holt comes to an abrupt halt, tugging on my hand. “Maple.”

I cringe, refusing to look him in the eye. I don’t want to see him staring at me like a strange bug people want to poke with a stick but not actually touch with their bare hands. “Yeah, I know.”

“That’s amazing!”

My gaze flies to his. “Huh?” He’s smiling at me, not a trace of fear or disgust in his expression.

“That’s the coolest job I’ve ever heard of. No wonder Mookie likes you better.” He stoops to pick up Mookie, then leans in to study my face. “Wait, don’t you like your job?”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I love my job. It’s just most people think it’s…well, weird.”

“Who’s most people?”

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