Page 20 of Rowan's Renewal
“I can’t believe I jumped into the ocean,” I say as I get myself situated behind Aaron again, after checking that he doesn’t mind me getting him all wet. “What if there are sharks out here?”
“Well, I feel like there might be,” he answers, “but you weren’t in there long enough for them to take a nibble.”
I pause, my heart thumping. “Are you joking?”
“I mean, sharks live in the ocean, sweetheart. And Australia’s kind of notorious for its deadly wildlife.”
I look back into the dark depths and swallow. “Maybe next time I’ll just pee over the side.”
He chuckles before he presses the button to restart the engine.
Then we’re off again, bouncing over little waves, and by the time we make it back to the resort, the wind and sun have mostly dried me off, and my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing.
I can’t ever recall feeling like this before.
I’m almost afraid that this really is a coma dream.
Chapter Ten
Kayaking with Rowan is even more fun than riding the jet ski. There’s a calm inlet on the far side of the resort, not really a full river or creek, but enough of a waterway for people to kayak, or hire the stand-up paddleboards and entertain themselves for a couple of hours. The water on this side of the resort is still and fairly clear; still deep, but nowhere near as fathomless as the ocean side.
Rowan still fusses about the possibility of sharks as we glide our paddles across the blue-green surface of the water, and I assure him that we will stick close enough to the shore that, if he should need to pee, he can leap off and sit in the shallows, safe from any lurking fins and teeth.
Despite his concerns, that makes him laugh. I’ve actually heard him laugh a lot today.
I get the feeling he doesn’t laugh enough, usually.
If I have my way, he will laugh more often than not going forward.
“This kayaking thing isn’t as easy as it looks,” he mutters from behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “My arms aren’t going to thank me after this.”
I nod, my biceps straining as I dip my paddle down and effectively pull us forward in the calm water. “It’s a fun workout,” I reply, smiling to myself as he snorts.
“I think our definitions of ‘fun’ are different.”
“Don’t you write for alifestylemagazine?” I challenge him. “Shouldn’t that include enthusiasm for stuff like this? Picture-perfect scenery, blue skies, the sun—”
“Blaring down on us and increasing our risk of skin cancer?” Even though the words are dry and cynical, I can hear him smirking.
Sassy boy…
I turn my head to glance over my shoulder. “What do you write about, then?”
“I’m more of an editor now,” he shrugs, then grimaces as he strains to paddle us forward against the current, “butmyversions of heavenly retreats involve snifters of fine whiskey and crackling fireplaces. No manual labor involved.” He makes another face as he raises the back of his hand to wipe at his sweaty forehead. “This just feels like—ah!” He leans sideways suddenly, rocking the whole kayak dangerously. “What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?” I peer over the right side of our vessel, which he is studiously avoiding.
“Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”
I kind of like this snarky, bratty side of him. The more comfortable he’s gotten with me, the more it has come out to play today. He’s still a very sweet man, but after a couple of changes, I’m guessing he’s slowly trusting that I’m not going to run away. Or maybe this is his way of pushing my boundaries.He’s never been a Boy before, so I know at some point I will have to bring out the ‘don’t talk back to Daddy’ rule.
Patiently, though, I ask, “What did it look like?”
“Like something moving in the water.”
“Helpful.”
He uses his paddle to scoop up some water and splash my lap.
