Page 2 of Marrying the Guide
His grin widened as he shook his hair like a dog. “No worries. It takes a lot more to drown me, trust me. This was just a refreshing dip.”
How nice of him to try and make me feel better. “That was about as graceful as a cat on ice. Anyway, I think it’s safe to say kayaking is not my thing. You guys can go without me.”
Howell pushed stray strands of wet hair from his forehead, his beard glistening with droplets of river water. “Nah, you’re coming with us. Everyone capsizes their first time. It’s like an initiation rite. And after this, what’s the worst that can happen? You’re already wet. It’s a gorgeous day out, so you won’t get too cold while you’re drying.”
Despite my embarrassment, I smiled. “True, but I still have to get into that damn kayak.”
“Do you trust me?”
I looked into a pair of soulful brown eyes. “Yes.”
“Good. We’ll do it the same way I do with little kids.”
Before I knew what was happening, he’d lifted me out of the water and deposited me into the kayak. Automatically, I sat down.
“There ya go.” He sounded satisfied, like a man who’d solved a problem. “Now stay seated, okay?”
If my cheeks were as red as I feared, there was no way he hadn’t noticed, but he sent me a smile and didn’t add to my humiliation. He hopped into his kayak, seemingly unbothered by his soaked clothes. “Okay, now let’s do a quick refresher on how to use your paddle…”
He went through the basics, and I paid close attention. When he gave the signal we’d be on our way, I was able to keep up with the others. As low as that bar was, I was proud of myself.
Watching Howell navigate the water with such natural grace stirred a fluttering in my chest. He was strength and stability personified, a counterpoint to the chaos my life had become. His beard, flecked with droplets from the spray, gave him a tough, strong look that contrasted sharply with the softness in his eyes.
But after fifteen minutes, even that view couldn’t lift my mood. My ass was sore, my shoulders were on fire, and my abs were screaming for mercy. My arms burned with each stroke, every muscle fiber stinging as if woven from barbed wire. Fucking hell, this was so much more of a workout than I had counted on. Maybe because of the current?
“You doing okay?” Howell checked. “Onno, was it?”
“Yeah. And I don’t know, to be honest. My body has muscles protesting I didn’t even know I had.”
He snorted. “Kayaking is not as easy as it looks.”
“Now he tells me. “
“Are you saying you didn’t read the release forms before you signed them?”
“You mean the ten pages of American let’s-cover-our-ass legalese?”
“You have a bit of an accent. Where are you from, if I may ask?”
“I’m from the Netherlands, from Leiden, about half an hour from Amsterdam.”
His eyes lit up. “There’s a bakery in Forestville that sells a lot of Dutch pastries.”
I nodded. “Brianna is my sister-in-law. She’s married to my brother, Joost. I’m here visiting them.”
And hoping to get my mojo back. Somewhere in my fifteen-year marriage to Gerard, I’d lost the sense of who I was. Was it crazy to hope I would find myself here?
“Her pastries draw people from all over the state, and no wonder. They’re amazing.” He patted his stomach—or rather his life vest—and grinned. “I had to schedule extra workouts to burn the calories.”
“Or you could not eat them.”
He laid his hand on his heart in mock shock. “Why would I punish myself like that? I’ll happily add an hour to my daily workout so I can keep eating what she bakes.”
It still baffled me that Brianna had found so much success with simple Dutch pastries. Thekrentenbollen,stroopwafels, andboterkoeksold like hotcakes. Granted, she was an excellent baker, but I hadn’t expected Americans to love them so much. And the Dutch bread always sold out as well.
“What do you do for a living?” Howell asked.
If he was trying to distract me from my aching muscles by making conversation, he was succeeding. “I’m an accountant, so about the most boring job you can imagine.”