Page 5 of Take the Bait
I jog over to her and grab the front of her kayak before she can stop me. "Need a hand, Speed Racer?”
“No.”
Laughing, I help her anyway. “I’m doing you a favor. If you wear out your arms now, you won’t stand a chance at beating me.”
She sighs. “Why did I agree to this?”
“Because there’s a part of you, deep down, that is dying to kayak with me again?”
"I'd rather paddle with a rabid raccoon in my kayak,” she mutters.
“Ouch,” I say, chuckling. “That hurts.”
"Please,” she scoffs. “Your ego is stronger than steel. It’s impossible to bruise.”
She’s so much fun to banter with. I could do this all day.
But Joel, Trent, and Forrest are already on the water waiting for us. So, we launch our kayaks and paddle over to meet them. I introduce Chrissy to Trent and Forrest and then explain the goal of today’s practice.
“So, we’ll just be paddling together today, getting a feel for the lake and the stretches that each of us are most comfortable handling for the relay.”
“And,” Joel says conspiratorially, “if we just practiced our own stretches separately, Ace wouldn’t have an excuse to spend time with Chrissy.”
Forrest nods. “Yeah, it’s not like we haven’t been paddling this lake our whole lives and know every stretch by heart or anything…”
“Come on, guys,” Trent says. “It’s not every day Ace asks us to be his wingmen. We can’t turn down a friend in need.”
Chrissy bites down on a smile while I seriously consider drowning all three of my friends.
“Anyway,” I say through clenched teeth. “We’re here today to get to know each other as ateam.”
We paddle together for a while, keeping an easy pace. Trent and Joel and Forrest are great endurance paddlers, but Liam and I were the fastest paddlers. And Chrissy is right up there with us. Before long, I’m itching to paddle ahead of the others—and I can tell she is too.
I glance over at her and our eyes meet.
Her mouth curves into a flirty smile. “Try to keep up,” she says, digging her paddle into the water harder. She pushes ahead of the group.
“You’re on!” I say with a laugh.
We paddle ahead, leaving Trent, Forrest, and Joel in our wake. We paddle hard for a half hour without stopping, slicing through the water like missiles. Stroke-for-stroke, we’re a perfect match.
Which just goes to show how athletic she is.
Because I work out—a lot. She wasn’t entirely wrong when she said I like to be the center of attention. I do. What’s wrong with that?
I alsousemy muscles, though. And I’m a foot taller than her and outweigh her by seventy-five pounds or so.
But she’s easily keeping up with me.
When we finally take a breath, we park our kayaks beneath an overhanging tree for shade, and each pull water bottles out of our packs.
I take a long swig before asking, “So, you’ve raced competitively, haven’t you?”
She glances over at me. "How'd you know?"
"You paddle with real technique. Not just athletic instinct."
Her expression softens slightly. "Two years in college. Then I stopped."
