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Huh. “Mine is gone too.”
“Great.” He gestures into the distance. “Did you know you can rent kayaks nearby?”
“You can?” And why is this topic making my heart flutter?
I glance at my tracker as if checking the time, but really it’s to see if my heartrate is elevated—and it is.
My dear Precious, your heart is a nine-ounce marvel in this universe of madness and darkness, and I squeal in ecstasy with its every luscious pump.
“Yep,” Evan says. “There are kayaks and boats. And I’m not sure if I told you this, but I love kayaks… only no one ever wants to ride them with me.”
There it is. Until now, I could tell myself we were on a treasure hunt, but if we go do this activity, that will be a lot closer to a date—so I should say no. Right? But I came here on vacation, and I’ve always wanted to try kayaking, so I tell Evan that I’d be happy to join him.
“Yes!” Evan is so psyched that I start to wonder if he really meant it when he said no one ever wants to go with him.
In any case, he gets the kayak and sits in the front.
Oh, boy. Even with the life jacket over his T-shirt, I can see his muscles work as he rows, which seriously distracts me from the greenery and the calm waters. Still, I feel myself de-stressing, all the tensions—except for the sexual one—leaving my body with every stroke of the paddles.
Soon, we spot an otter. And a manatee after that—not to mention a number of turtles and different birds.
“I love kayaking,” I say when we’re done. “Who knew?”
Evan beams at me. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“My friends—the ones who booked me this vacation—will be very happy to know I got to properly relax.” And they’ll insist Evan deserves a reward for making it happen. A lewd reward.
“But the day isn’t over,” Evan says. “Want to check out some local sights?”
He starts walking excitedly before I even voice my agreement, and I almost grab his hand as I fall into step beside him. Thankfully, I stop myself because—for the millionth time—this isn’t an actual date.
Unless it is? No idea, but soon, I’m having too much fun to worry about the status of our relationship, and I only return to those thoughts on the drive back.
“How do you feel about eating out at some nice place on the way?” Evan asks and then lists a few options, all of which sound very fancy.
Eat somewhere nice? Again?
That’s it.
I can’t hold it in anymore.
“Are we on a date?”
Chapter Eighteen
Evan
“Are we on a date?” Brooklyn demands.
What a great question—and how like a New Yorker to go straight for the jugular.
The truth is, this is something I’ve been ruminating on, like Calvin’s cows do with the seaweed that washes onto the beach. Something about the seaweed makes them not fart, but I’m not sure I have anything to show for my ruminatory efforts because I’m as unprepared for Brooklyn’s question now as I would have been this morning.
Well, except for one thing.
I’ve realized that I want her—despite all the reasons for us not to be together.
I want her badly. I want her in my bed. I want her in my life. I want to take her to more new places, so I can see that excited expression on her face. Not to mention?—
