Page 71 of One Bossy Disaster
He should know, I guess.
Part of me wants to poke him again about his death-wish kayaking trip the day we met, but I don’t.
I’m smart enough to know when to zip it and just enjoy a nice evening.
Oh, and no lesson would be complete without a nice, long lecture about avoiding ferry and shipping lanes. That’s huge.
Kayaking in Washington isn’t all just paddling around in the pretty sunlight and looking for seals and orcas.
We stop a few more times in calmer waters for my benefit.
Amazingly, Shepherd doesn’t even seem winded.
I have to remind myself where my arms actually attach.
It’s hard. Really hard.
But it feelsgoodpushing my body in new, unexpected ways.
It feels even better when he offers approving glances, and when I steer myself around a half-sunken buoy that comes out of nowhere, he mouths, “Good girl.”
Oh, God.
I think I just died.
Overall, though, I’m hit with this weird sense of familiarity.
I’m listening intently, of course, but I’m far more glued to the way he moves, especially as our journey stretches on toward sunset.
When we hit a sharper current around some islands, he paddles harder, digging into the water like he owns it.
Tight, controlled motions.
Not tense, but powerful.
Like he’s his own force of nature, demanding respect, powered by the same mysterious anger I saw the day we met.
This last strait is challenging, for sure, with currents pulling and threatening to knock me off course.
I should be more focused on navigating, but all I can think about ishim.
The madman from Alki Beach.
How I watched him moving like this with the same feeling back then, only now, I get to see it up close and personal.
The same powerful strokes.
The same strange sense of warring frustration and joy that he takes out on the elements.
Even now, though we’re pushing against the current, and he doesn’t look like it’s truly straining him. He only slows down to look back at me with concern.
“I’m good!” I call, flashing a thumbs-up.
But every time he dips his paddle into the water, I feel the sheer force behind it.
It’s enough to steal my breath away.
Later, when we’re through the worst of it, he glances over. When his eyes lock on mine, they’re wild and hot and strange.