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“I don’t know how to do any of those things.” I’m not embarrassed to admit it. Look where hiking got us, and by us, I mean Adam’s forehead and my feet.
“I thought jet-skiing might be fun, and they don’t take much effort. I’ve done it before. They’re enjoyable. Plus, if you’re not comfortable driving, we could ride together.”
“You’ve done it before?”
“I have.”
“For the boating thing, you don’t have to have some kind of boater’s license or operator’s card or whatever?”
Adam shrugs, which means you probably do. “Not out here is my best guess.”
“Which means they’ll look the other way? Which means it’s not very safe.”
“If you’re not comfortable, we could rent a kayak.”
That seems like a lot of paddling to me. I can just imagine how my shoulders, back, and neck will feel after that. I’ll probably do something stupid like tip it or whack Adam in the head with a paddle, assuming we’d be renting a two-seater, or get stranded somewhere out in the lake. It seems like a terrible idea, and it’s probably hot out. We’d be cooking out there all day. I’m sure that’s not good for Adam’s burn at the moment. Plus, I just think it would suck.
I’m not sure what other kinds of boating there is. I’ve actually tried horseback riding before, and I didn’t like it because it was slow, and you couldn’t really do anything since it was so touristy. Mountain biking sounds like hiking—an absolute disaster. Fishing seems like a good way to embarrass myself thoroughly or get a hook in the face. Or worse, hook Adam or someone else. That’s a big no for me. I’m embarrassingly citified.
In comparison, the jet skis sound fun, a little bit adventurous, slightly edgy, and super fast. Something I’ve never tried before. I could always ride, then I wouldn’t even have to figure out how to run the thing.
I’m honestly just glad Adam seems to have abandoned the idea of finding his ex-wife altogether. I haven’t heard him gripe about proving anything in a whole day, which is nice. I’d like to think I had something to do with it, and I mean more than just our little buzzed makeout session in the tent.
Adam switches off the burner and plates the food. He brings it over to the table and sets one down in front of me. “Dig in.”
I inhale deeply, and it smells amazing. The food actually looks amazing.
This is the first breakfast someone has made me in…in…I don’t even know how long—a long time. I’m not sure anyone other than my mom ever has made me a meal, restaurants not included.
I take a bite of the bacon, which is just right. Not fatty and undercooked and not so crispy and burnt that it shatters. The eggs are just as delicious.
“If you’re half as good at jet skis as you are at making this, we should be all set.”
Adam gives me a secret sort of smile. He looks pleased. No, not pleased, not smug, and not look at me, I accomplished something monumental, but just pleasantly satisfied with himself. With his new, very deep tan, set off with the plaid shirt, and his hair swept back off his forehead, he seems to be glowing—glowing with happiness. And it’s a new look for him—that unbridled, raw emotion.
It suits him.
It looks good on him.
Irresistibly good, but resist, I must. For as long as I choose to work for him, I must resist. I have no plans on changing jobs, so as of right now, that’s years, if not decades. Assuming I don’t get fired, but I already know that would never happen.
Is it fucked up that we work so well together, we actually have some chemistry, and we’re purposely turning it down and permanently sidelining it because it’s the ‘adult’ thing to do? The mature, professional, ‘right’ thing?
I don’t know.
I wasn’t expecting this.
I thought we were just camping and maybe faking a few things, which I doubted would even be needed, since I very much doubted we’d ever run into the other Stephanie. No added bonuses until I got paid the ten grand to fix my roof. That’s what I expected, obviously.
How did things get so off track?
No matter how hard it might be to operate the jet ski thing, it has to be less complicated than trying to sort through this. Certainly, no matter how dangerous they are, they’re less so than messy, runaway emotions. Of course, as I chew one of the best bacon I’ve ever had in my life and shovel in eggs like there?
??s no tomorrow, I choose to think about the day’s activities instead.
CHAPTER 14
Adam
