Page 70 of The Storm

I sound straight-up frustrated. Rowing ismything. Does he have to come and mess this up for me too? I come out here to escape his looming presence in the rest of my life.

“I’m cashing in my favor,” he says.

I’m not following. “What favor?”

“The one you owe me from when I played cab driver for you that one time.”

It feels like the night we went to pick up Dia and Bridge happened to someone else in a different life.

“And?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Teach me to row.”

My mouth drops open. After a bit, I narrow my eyes while I try to figure out what his deal is. What is he trying to accomplish? I don’t get it. He’s been avoiding me like he’s afraid I might be carrying the plague.

“So?” he says impatiently.

“Why?” I’m still flabbergasted, still in detective mode and doing a bad job at it.

“Believe it or not, your hobbies don’t automatically become off limits to the rest of humanity.”

I cross my own arms over my chest in reply and glare back. “I wasn’t implying that.” We stare at each other for a moment before I deliberately force my shoulders to relax. “I’d be happy to teach you,” I say. A tad stiffly, but that can’t be helped. I’m doingmy best. “In fact, I’dloveto teach you.” I did promise, I guess. Might as well get it over with.

I didn’t put my shirt on in my room and instead threw it over my shoulder, and his eyes move up and down my naked torso before they settle on my face again. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

I roll my eyes and tug the shirt off my shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry. My bad. I didn’t realize there was a dress code for this. I’ve gotta be honest, a tux felt a bit excessive, but next time.” I cross my fingers pointedly.

He exhales through his nose. His gaze flicks to my chest before he aims his eyes toward the water. “At least you remembered the shorts.”

He sounds annoyed.

Good.

“I’d love to teach you,” I grit through my teeth. “Really,reallylove to.”

He motions for me to go ahead and trails me to the boat shed, and I’m once again overly aware of him right behind me.

We make it to the boat shed, and I pull the shirt and paddling jacket over my head. I nod toward Nick’s sweatshirt. “Is that thing waterproof, by any chance?”

He looks down at it. “Sure. One of the many miracles of, you know, cotton.”

Oh, look. An escape hatch. Don’t mind if I do.

I purse my lips. “Ooooh, yeah. Not ideal. Not ideal at all. See, cotton will get wet, and then you’ll be at risk of hypothermia. We can probably find another time to do this, though, right? We’ll check our calendars and find a date.”

He throws me a look. “Seriously?”

I sigh, tug the paddling jacket off over my head and hold it out to him. He eyes it like I’m trying to hand him a dead dog.

I blow out an impatient breath. “It’s a thermal shirt.” I wave my other hand up and down my chest. “Merino wool. Not cotton. I’ll be fine with just this.” I shake the jacket pointedly. It takes him forever and a day, but eventually he takes it and pulls it over his head. He’s a bit wider than I am, so the jacket is tighter, and no, I’m not paying any attention to the way it molds to his chest.

I unlock the shed and slide the door open. Nick follows me wordlessly and helps me get the kayak off the rack. We carry it outside and push it into water.

“Ready?” I ask.

Nick stares at the kayak before he glances at me. “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s the whole boat?”

“It’s a kayak. What were you expecting, a yacht?”