Page 1 of Marrying the Guide

1

ONNO

How the fuck was I supposed to get into a kayak without it toppling over and sending me splashing into the river? Not one of life’s more existential problems but at the moment a pressing one, considering I’d signed up for a kayak tour on the Skykomish River in the beautiful state of Washington. And while I was an excellent swimmer—most Dutch people were—that didn’t mean I wanted to test my skills, thank you very much.

I eyed the red kayak assigned to me with distrust. It looked…too small. Too narrow to keep my balance. A few years ago, when I’d finally convinced Gerard to do something fun together, we’d kayaked on a lake. But that kayak had been different, one you sat on and not in. And it had been a hell of a lot wider and that lake a hell of a lot calmer than this river.

“Everything okay?” The voice was as warm as a shot of whiskey on a cold winter night.

I spun around, my mouth dry. Our guide, Howell, stood before me: six feet of muscled yumminess with a smile that could thaw the snow off the distant peaks. Alas,straightyumminess, unless my gaydar was severely malfunctioning,which wasn’t out of the question, as everything else in my life seemed to be on life support as well.

“Yes. I’m fine, but I do have a question. How do I?—”

“—get into the kayak without getting wet?” Howell grinned.

“I guess I’m not the first to ask?” I chuckled sheepishly.

“Nope, happens all the time. But I’m happy to show you. First, let’s get your kayak farther into the water.”

Without breaking a sweat, Howell one-arm dragged it half into the water.

“The trick is to get it far enough out that you can easily push off but not so far it’ll float away or you get more than your feet wet.”

Right. He’d positioned it perfectly, then. Well, duh, that was his job.

“And then you step in, hold on to both sides for stability, and sit. See?”

He demonstrated, surprisingly nimble for a man of his built. But again, his job.

“I think I’ve got it,” I said with far more confidence than I felt. My nervousness increased when I noticed everyone else had already gotten in their kayaks and was now watching me. Fuck.

“Good.”

Howell climbed out of the kayak with grace, and then it was my turn. I double-checked that my life jacket was buckled tightly. I could easily see myself losing it and watching it float down the river. Not happening.

Okay, if the others could do it, I could too, right? I wasn’t the most coordinated person, but I did have decent balance.

“I’ll help you,” Howell said.

Oh great. If I flipped, he’d have a front-row seat to my humiliation. “Thank you.”

With my knuckles white from the force, I held on to the kayak and lifted my right foot.

“You know what,” Howell said. “I’ll keep the kayak steady. Put your hand on my shoulder for support.”

I searched his face for any sign of condescension. Finding none—only the earnest offer of assistance—I nodded, my heart pounding. A sense of impending doom settled in my belly, making me even tenser, but I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Good. Now move your left foot.”

I followed his lead, trying to appear positive, acutely aware of the strength in his grip, the calm control in his movements. I placed a wobbly foot in the kayak. But my other foot, still on the ground, seemed to have developed a sudden fondness for the earth, refusing to lift as smoothly as I’d intended.

I closed my eyes. Here went nothing. I forced myself to push through my fear and raised my foot. I’d done it! Elation filled me, but then I opened my eyes and promptly lost my balance. My arms flailed, seeking something solid in a world that had decided to spin around me. Howell grabbed me, but I toppled sideways, slammed into him, and sent him backward into the chilly current of the Skykomish River with me on top of him.

My shriek, amid the chorus of gasps, could’ve woken the dead. Mortified, I scrambled to my feet, the water coming to my middle. Oh god, how upset would Howell be? He’d been submersed in the water and was now dripping wet.

But when he rose, he was laughing, showing a row of straight teeth. With the water streaming from his beard, he looked like a rugged captain. He winked. “That didn’t go as planned.”

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered, my cheeks burning despite the cold water. “I didn’t mean to… Well, obviously, I didn’t plan to almost drown you.”