Page 126 of Cross Check

“Nope. You’re going to have to be patient.”

“Fine.” Her sigh is dramatic and cute. “Are shorts okay?”

“More than okay. It’s going to be in the upper eighties today. If you wear anything else, you’ll suffer from a heatstroke.”

“That would be a terrible way to end the trip.”

“Minus the whole spiraling into depression blip, we’ve been doing pretty well,” I joke.

“Best to quit while we’re ahead,” she says.

“Is an hour enough time for you to get ready?”

“More than enough time.” She reaches for her mug and takes a sip of her coffee. “Let me finish my caffeine lifeline, and I’ll get dressed.”

“I’m going to grab some cereal and find the sunscreen.” I stand, stretching my back when I do. “There’s a thermos in the pantry if you want to take your coffee with you.”

“You think of everything, Grant Everett.”

Don’t I fucking know it.

“That couple is going to be divorced by the end of the year.” Amelia rests her paddle over the edges of the kayak and points to the boat ahead of us. They’ve been arguing for the better part of twenty minutes about steering, and I’m exhausted having to listen to them. “They can’t navigate a body of water. How are they going to make important life decisions?”

“What if we tip their boat? It might knock some sense into them, and we won’t have to hear him talk about his sailboat that is more luxurious than a vessel he has to steer himself.” I crack open a water bottle and pass it to her over her shoulder. “Are there a lot of lakes in Colorado?”

“Tons, but I’m more of a mountain girl. There’s a ranch about two and a half hours outside of Denver that Lainey, Sienna, and I visited for the weekend. We got to ride horses on beautiful trails. We sat under the stars where it was so quiet, I swear you could hear a pin drop. I’m not a big fan of skiing, so I stay on flat ground during the winter.”

“Some of the guys and I were thinking about taking a ski trip during All-Star break in February. Assuming none of us make the team, of course.”

“You don’t think you’ll go back and do another Skills event?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “I know when to stop, and it’s after I collected my trophy. Gotta end with a win.”

We split a protein bar and start for the dock, synchronizing our strokes and cruising along with the current. It’s afternoon by the time we get to the boathouse, and we head to the next stop. Armed with a pepperoni pizza and two glasses of lemonade, we find a table under a large tree for some shade. I hand Amelia napkins, she opens the cardboard box, and we dig in.

“Most underrated topping?” she asks, pulling a long string of cheese from her mouth.

“Green peppers,” I say. “Or pickles.”

“Pickles on your pizza? That is disturbing.”

“Okay, Miss Perfect Pizza Topping. What’s your pick?”

“Mushrooms,” she says, defiance sparking behind her answer.

“You can’t be serious.” I gape at her. “Of all the things in the world, you’re going with mushrooms on top of a delicious pizza?”

“That’s better than pickles! Pickles belong on sandwiches!”

“When you fold the slice in half”—I demonstrate what I mean, bringing the two ends of my pizza together—“it makes a sandwich. Voilà. Pickles.”

“You probably think tacos are sandwiches, don’t you?”

“The fillings are literally sandwiched between the tortilla. Tacos are most definitely in the sandwich family.”

“And hot dogs?”

“Same goes. Meat and bread? Condiments? Come on.”