Page 71 of The Storm

He crouches on the edge of the dock and nudges the side with the tips of his fingers. The hull rocks gently.

He looks up. “This thing looks unstable as shit.”

“It’s not,” I say. “It just feels like it when youdostupid shit.”

He straightens slowly. “That’s reassuring.”

I put my hands on my hips. Count to ten. “Two people in a kayak means teamwork,” I say pointedly.

Nick looks skeptical as hell when his eyes move up and down me, and I can’t blame him, really.

“You’re in the back.” I point at the seat.

The suspicion in his gaze intensifies immediately.

“Why?”

“Because the one in the back steers,” I say.

His brows hike higher for a moment before he narrows his eyes. “Isn’t that the job of the person who actually knows what they’re doing?”

“Yes.” I send him a smug smile. “But somebody also has to compensate for whatever fuckuppery you’ll come up with.”

He snorts under his breath, and it’s strangely lighthearted and endearing.

I tap the front seat with the tip of the paddle. “I set the pace, you match my strokes. When I paddle on the left, you paddle on the left. When I paddle on the right, you paddle on the right.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then we spin in circles, and I will tell you in detail just how much you suck. I’ve already practiced in my head, so it’ll be glorious.”

“What an inspiring teacher you would make.”

I crouch and hold the kayak against the dock.

“Get in.”

He doesn’t.

I look up, still holding the kayak in place. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not.”

“Great. Then get in.”

He sends me another one of those unimpressed look and climbs in. The kayak wobbles, and Nick tenses.

“Relax or you’ll make it worse,” I say.

“I’m sitting as still as humanly possible.”

“You’re tense,” I say.

“You’retense,” he grits out.

I step into the kayak and plant my butt in the seat. The kayak rocks for a bit before it settles.

“Okay.” I dip the paddle into the water. “You want to keep your strokes long, even, and smooth. Like this.”