Page 60 of Whiskey Chase
“I have so many questions,” I admitted.
“Shoot.”
“What’s a kayak picnic? How do I get into said kayak? How do we picnic in a kayak? Will we be getting naked at some point? Should I put on sunscreen?”
“A kayak picnic is when we float on the lake and eat. You get into the kayak by taking it into the shallow water and sittin’ your ass in it. My kayak has the cooler of food. Yours has the beer and water. The answer to getting naked is always yes. And I brought you some spray on SPF.”
“What about my phone?”
She held up a small plastic box. “Dry box, my friend.”
“I guess that answers all my questions.”
“I guess it does. Get in.” She untied the empty kayak and handed me the rope. “Go on now.”
I towed it like a puppy to land and, kicking off my sneakers, I walked into the water. The warmth of the lake water always surprised me. “Just kinda straddle it and drop in,” Scarlett suggested. She was paddling in circles just off the end of the dock.
I did as she instructed and flopped into the kayak. It rocked side to side for a moment but steadied itself.
“Come on! Let’s go!” Scarlett said cheerfully. She dipped her paddle into the water and accelerated away from the dock.
“Wait for me!” I’d spent some time in college in sculls and shells rowing. But a kayak was a new experience for me. I grabbed the paddle secured to the side with a bungee cord and dipped one end into the water.
“Paddle’s upside down,” Scarlett called out in a singsong voice.
I had no idea how a paddle could be upside down. Gamely, I pushed off the lake floor and awkwardly propelled myself toward her.
* * *
“Told ya you’d like it,”Scarlett said smugly.
I couldn’t argue. The hidden hot springs she’d directed us to, tucked away on an uninhabited shore of the lake, was like nature’s perfect hot tub. We’d pulled the kayaks up on the shore behind some cleverly stacked logs that hid them from view.
Hot water bubbled up from beneath the surface to heat the huge pool. We were hidden from view by rock outcroppings and lush evergreens.
“How are there not thirty people in here right now?” I asked, reclining on a natural rock ledge in the pool worn smooth by the water. Scarlett floated next to me.
“They don’t call this the Secret Springs for no reason,” she laughed.
“I thought you said Bootleg doesn’t keep secrets?”
“From each other. Bootleggers know about this place, but we don’t tell tourists. That’s why there’s a No Trespassing sign on the beach.”
“So how are there no Bootleggers drinking gin and country line-dancing in here.”
“‘Cause I signed up for two hours, silly.”
“There’s a sign-up sheet?”
“Well, yeah. You wouldn’t want to come here for some private time and find out that it’s occupied by the church ladies would you?”
“No, I would not.” But I was getting what she was telling me. We had the place to ourselves. For two whole hours.
Scarlett swam to me and slid a slick leg over mine to settle into my lap. I brought my hands to her tight little ass and pulled her against me. She gave me a silky smile when I started to thicken beneath her. She was so much packed into a petite body. Her breasts were delectably hidden behind the red and white checks of her swimsuit top. It had a little frill of material at the top of both cups. A tease for the eyes.
“I like your suit,” I told her gruffly.
“I was hoping you’d approve.”
