Page 26 of Mr. Risky

I turned the boat around. But which direction should I go? Everything looked the same in this fog. Maybe I should just go parallel to the shore and wait to take her in until I got a clear break in the clouds.

I’d been out in storms before. But panic started to crawl along my spine.

This had been very, very stupid behavior.

“Help!” I cried out.

But I hadn’t seen any other boats out on the water.

“Help me! I don’t know which way to go!”

There were many little hidden coves all along the coastline—but there was also the possibility of getting stuck on some of these hidden shoals, and with the rain pelting me now and the visibility so poor, I could not see to avoid them.

But I had to go somewhere, my boat was getting blown about either way.

I turned her around and started to head in the direction that seemed a little bit lighter. But how far had I strayed from my original spot?

With a sickening crunch, the front of my boat collided with the sharp rocks of a shoal and I watched in horror as it began to split apart under me, the bottom cracking wide as angry seawater began to rush in.

I was going to have to swim for the shore—but which way was it?

Just as I prepared to jump off, I heard a pissed-off voice.

“What are you doing, idiot?”

Chapter Seven

Who knew where my foolishness would have taken me, because I did not want to get in the boat with him, but Granger plucked me up by the back of my T-shirt and hauled me spitting like a wet cat into the boat with him.

Not a bit too soon, as my boat began to splinter into large, jagged shards, as it was soaked by the wild swirling eddies.

“Sit down and hold on!” he said fiercely, shoving me between his thighs so I was forced to sit on the bottom of the boat, trembling with cold and unease about what he planned to do with me.

“Grab my legs!” he roared down at me. “Or I am going to put you over my knee the first damn moment we’re back on land.”

Resentfully, I took a hold of both his calves, feeling the powerful play of muscle under my fingers.

As he navigated his way through the storm, I risked a glance up at him, his stance steady despite the rocking boat. His face for once was set and stern, and I tried to see where we were going, but I couldn’t.

In fact I couldn’t see shit, but Granger had his hand firmly on the tiller, navigating us somehow through the fog and driving rain to a dilapidated little jetty.

When we arrived, he pulled me out of the boat with him and we ran together down the docks.

The rain was almost sideways at this point, and he thrust me inside what looked like a little cabin, weatherbeaten and faded.

Inside there was a wooden stove, little table, and narrow bed.

“What is this place?”

“Some rustic shit they’re trying to do up for an AirBnb. It’s not ready yet but everything works.”

He pulled off his windbreaker, and began to start the fire, kneeling before it in his wet jeans, long limbs bent down.

“You need to get your clothes off. You’re soaking wet.”

“Why were you out there?” I demanded.

“Take your clothes off,” he repeated. “Your teeth are chattering.”