I inhale slowly, willing my upset stomach to calm.
Fine, even if that happens, I’ll paddle ashore like a dog. Espie, who has been taking swimming classes, showed me how to do that. It should be enough to save me from drowning. Even if, quite frankly, I’d prefer not to act like a Labrador in front of Nathan.
Nathan puts a hand on my back and his touch brings me back to reality.
“So, which one would you like? The red or the yellow one?” He indicates the boats tied to an iron loop. A painting of a vine-coiled, smiling face blooms on the side of each.
None, please. “Ah…the red one?”
“Then the red one it is.” Nathan grins and strides forward on the wooden jetty. He lifts a leg, ready to clamber in.
Panic assaults me as I see that he isn’t aiming for the boat’s center. “What are you doing?” I squeak.
He freezes and his eyes dart to me. “Getting into the boat?”
“I can see that. But you’re doing it wrong.”
“What do you mean wrong?” He lowers his leg and pivots to me. His face plays with an earnest ingenuity that warms my heart.
“Nathan,” I say, taking a step toward him. “You do know how to row a boat, right?”
“Sure, I do.” He winks. “I have a rowing machine in my gym. It shouldn’t be very different from that.”
Perhaps I’m not the one who’ll risk ending up in the water after all. “Well, theoretically, you know the movements then. But a long narrow boat in the water and a piece of equipment on the ground aren’t the same thing. I went on a rowboat a few times with my step-dad. It isn’t as stable as it seems.”
Nathan scratches his head, and his fingers dishevel his dark hair into a bad-boy style that raises my pulse. “Okay, so how am I supposed to get in then?”
I feel slightly ridiculous lecturing him, given my own lack of experience, but I figure I still know more about real boats than he does. “Rowboats are tippy, so you need to keep as low as possible and position your weight in the center of the boat as you step on it.”
Nathan taps his forehead. “Right, this sounds reasonable. Let’s try it.” He climbs in with a fair amount of vigorous rocking and sits down with his back to the bow.
Good, at least he knows he needs to face the stern.
He blinks up at me, smiling. “Your turn.” He extends a hand to me.
I wait till even the slightest toss from his entry subsides, then try to elegantly step across the rippling water. Despite the lesson I gave Nathan, I over-balance and he has to grab my waist to keep me from falling. Unfortunately, the warmth from his touch wobbles my knees even further, so I flop ungracefully on the wooden seat and bump my rear hard.
“Ouch, did that hurt?” Nathan inquires promptly.
“No, not one bit,” I lie, biting back the hiss of pain.
“Great, so now the paddles.” Nathan wiggles his brows.
“The oars, but yes, that’s the next step.” I smile back at him. It’s almost funny how I correct him, but still he’s more comfortable in his skin in this fickle vehicle than I am.
Nathan grabs the oars and places them into the rings. “Any last great advice before we start on this adventure?” he asks, as he unties our boat from the jetty.
My eyes travel to his arms, and I ignore the thrills that wash over me.
He definitely has the right muscles for rowing, but without proper technique, we could still end up in a big, wet mess. It’s in my best interest to give Nathan some tips. I try to summon all the knowledge I gathered observing my step-father as a child. “A good rower will always feather.” His mouth drifts into a confused frown and I add, “It’s when you turn the oar sideways as you come forward to lessen the resistance.”
“Ah, yes, I get it. Like this.” He demonstrates that he understood what I just said, and the boat glides backwards.
“Very good,” I compliment, “and if you want us to turn, you simply row with one side only.”
He tries that too, and we make a slow pirouette with the boat.
Strangely enough, my stomach clenches with giddiness instead of fear as we twirl around. I don’t know why, but I feel perfectly safe with Nathan. Maybe because I can see he’s getting the hang of rowing super fast, or, perhaps, it’s that glance he’s giving me. Like he will jump in and rescue me if I tip over the side.
Whatever it is, as the ducks waggle and squawk alongside us while Nathan rows the boat gently toward the middle of the lake, my shoulders relax.
There are walkers on the path around the lake, and a small child waves at us. Nathan and I wave back and then exchange a smile with each other.
“This is pretty nice, isn’t it?” Nathan murmurs. “Maybe I should listen to my brother’s advice more often.”
His statement spikes my curiosity. “So your brother and you…are you two close?”
“We are…uhm…okay…”
“Okay? That’s not very loving, no? I’m close to my brothers and sister, even if we don’t have the same dad.”
I peek up at him.
The sun illuminates his skin, and I can see a hint of stubble sprouting on his chin, even though it’s still early afternoon. My naughty mind immediately wonders if he skipped shaving or if he’s just such a manly man that his five-o-clock shadow needs two sessions per day to be properly tamed. The way his chest expands as he moves the oars makes me lean immediately toward the latter.
“Let’s just say that Murphy and I appreciate different nuances in life.”
“Okay, so what do you appreciate in life?” I point at the ostentatious building of the Flamingo Lake, visible on the horizon. “Would that be your thing if I weren’t with you?”
“Whaaat? Heck, no.”
The
