Page 3 of Marrying the Guide
So boring, in fact, that Gerard had told me not to mention it unless people specifically asked. Few had. People had little interest in me whenever he and I were somewhere together. He always got the attention, which made sense. He was a plastic surgeon, full of colorful stories. Unlike me.
“Do you like it?” Howell asked. “Being an accountant, I mean. Do you like it?”
Huh. No one had ever asked me that. “I do. Numbers calm me, and balancing the books is like bringing order to chaos. When everything adds up, literally, it always gives me a deep satisfaction.”
Howell shrugged. “So why call it boring?”
“‘Cause most people feel that way about accounting.”
“Yeah, so? That sounds like they have a problem, not you. You’re not responsible for how other people feel.”
I stared at him. How had he summarized in one sentence what my therapist had been trying to get me to see over the last four months? “Thank you,” I said hoarsely. “You’re absolutely right.”
“You’re welcome. Are you recovered enough to paddle on your own again?”
Huh?
My confusion must’ve shown because he pointed at a rope between his kayak and mine.
“Have you been?—”
“—pulling you? Sure have. You looked like you needed a break, and everyone else seemed to be doing fine.”
Jesus, and I hadn’t even picked up on it. “Thank you. And sorry.”
He unhooked the rope with a smooth move. “Why are you apologizing? It was my choice, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“No buts. Don’t say sorry for what wasn’t your fault or responsibility.”
“Can I hire you as my life coach?” I blurted out.
Howell threw his head back and laughed, a full-out belly laugh that had the kayakers in front of us looking over their shoulders to see what was happening. “Nah, I think I’ll stick to being a wilderness guide. The life advice is a free bonus.”
Hmm, what other activities did the company he worked for offer? Because whether he was straight or not, I wanted to hang out with him again. Preferably without dunking him, but that was a minor detail. Maybe something on dry land? Did they do hikes? Not much could go wrong with hikes, right?
2
HOWELL
Izipped up the last compartment of my hiking pack. My fingers skimmed the items one more time: first-aid kit, compass, map, water bottles, and enough trail mix to pacify a small army of squirrels. Everything was in its place, ready for the eager group of beginners I’d be leading up Lookout Mountain.
Six people. That was a nice number for this relatively easy hike. Relative being the keyword. Any activity in the mountains could go from an enjoyable stroll to a disastrous nightmare with one slip, one slide, one second of inattention.
Was there anyone on the list I knew? I scanned the names, blinking when my eye fell on the last one: Onno Veldhuis. The sweet Dutch guy from the kayaking trip last week. A tingle of excitement shot through me, quick and unexpected, like the first jolt of a caffeine rush.
Something about him, even just his name on the page, sparked an enthusiasm I hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t merely his shy charm or the way he talked when nervous, filling the air with words to ward off silence. No, he drew me in with his authenticity, his honesty, his vulnerability.
I’d felt so bad for him when he’d crashed into me, dumping us both into the water. For me, it had been nothing more than an accident, but he’d taken it hard. I was glad to see him try something else.
Still, I triple-checked my emergency supplies when I loaded my backpack, then grabbed my keys and headed out the door. The sun was already painting the sky with streaks of gold and pink, a perfect backdrop for a day in the mountains.
The brisk morning air nipped at my cheeks as I made my way to the designated meeting spot—a small clearing near the edge of the parking area, where the forest loomed like a silent guardian. Within minutes, the people who had signed up arrived: a mom and dad with a ten-year-old girl, an older couple, and one tall figure standing slightly apart from the rest. Onno.
“Welcome to the beginner’s hike. I’m Howell Moorhouse, your guide for today. We’ll take a scenic route that should give us some great views without being too strenuous.” I looked at each person in turn, ensuring they felt included.
The five others had assured me they all had hiking experience. That didn’t mean that was actually the case. I regularly ran into people who, for some bewildering reason, thought it was smart to lie about their experience with outdoor activities. Apparently, they figured admitting a lack of experience was worse than risking not only their own safety but that of others as well. Somebody would have to explain that to me like I was four because it made zero sense.