What if this wasn't just a fling? What if what I felt for Jace was something deeper, something that had been building for years, something that couldn't be explained away as simple physical attraction?
What if I was falling for him?
And if I was, what was I going to do about it?
The questions followed me like shadows as the boat completed its journey and returned to the dock. They lingeredas we walked back to the cabin, as I got ready for bed, as I lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness.
Sleep eluded me, my thoughts a carousel of confusion—Jace's voice on the zip-line platform, his eyes finding mine across the boat deck, his hands on my body in the boathouse, his words before I'd walked away.
This isn't just sex for me, Dee. It never was.
The truth I'd been avoiding crept closer, impossible to deny in the honest darkness of night: maybe it wasn't just sex for me either. Maybe it never had been.
And that terrified me more than any zip-line ever could.
Chapter Six
“Worth the Risk”
Jace
Dawn broke over Hope Peak Lake in bands of rose and gold, the water still and clear, mountains doubled in perfect reflection. I wasn't much for poetry, but something about watching the world wake up from the middle of the lake always hit me hard.
I'd been up since four-thirty, hauling kayaks to the beach for the sunrise tour—one of our most popular activities despite the ungodly hour. Most guests who signed up arrived bleary-eyed and coffee-clutching, but they always left rejuvenated, babbling about the magical experience.
I checked my watch. Five-forty-five. Fifteen minutes until push-off.
Matt appeared, stifling a yawn, followed by six early risers in various states of wakefulness. I scanned the small group for a familiar chestnut braid, but Delaney was nowhere to be seen.
"Everyone here?" I asked Matt, keeping my tone casual despite the hollow feeling in my chest.
He consulted his clipboard. "Should be. Seven signed up, six showed. We had one cancellation last night."
"Anyone I know?"
Matt flipped through his paperwork. "Shaw, Delaney. Called the desk around nine, asked to be removed from the list."
The hollow feeling in my gut expanded. I'd expected this, but it still hurt.
"Right," I nodded, pushing the feeling aside. "Let's get these folks on the water."
The tour proceeded smoothly—the soft dip of paddles breaking the lake's surface, hushed exclamations as the sun crested the mountains, a bald eagle swooping low enough to cause a ripple of excitement. I went through the motions of guiding, pointing out landmarks, sharing historical tidbits, but my mind kept drifting back to Delaney.
To the boathouse. Her fingernails digging into my shoulders. The way she'd whispered my name.
Had I pushed too hard? Moved too fast? After all, I'd been the one to send that text six months ago. One steamy night in a boathouse didn't erase that kind of rejection.
When we returned to shore, I busied myself securing equipment while the guests drifted off to breakfast, still buzzing from the experience. Matt lingered, helping me haul kayaks back to the boathouse.
"You're quiet this morning," he observed, loading paddles onto the rack. "More than usual, I mean."
I shrugged. "Just tired."
"Uh-huh." His skeptical tone made it clear he wasn't buying it. "Nothing to do with our cancellation?"
I shot him a warning look, but he just grinned.
"Look, I'm not blind. Something's going on with you and the Shaw woman. Even Ruth's noticed."