Page 70 of One Bossy Disaster


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O-kay then.

“I’m so stiff,” I say, rolling my shoulders for the tenth time and trying not to wince. “Ow. You weren’t kidding about the workout.”

“You’d have an easier time if you’d quit hunching your back,” he says, tapping my shoulder blades. The contact jolts me. “Sit up straight in the boat. Let your arms take the strain.”

“Um, my arms definitelyaretaking the strain,” I say pointedly, waving them like overcooked noodles.

“They could be taking more. Some growing pains have to be expected, like any sport. It takes a while to break yourself in,” he says with an almost straight face.

But one corner of his lip curls.

I can’t tell if it’s a fun smile or something more vicious.

I also get hung up on that whole 'break yourself in' part.

Holy hell.

For the briefest second, I saw that look.

He was looking at me like someone he wanted.

“Watch out. That’s like the third joke you’ve told today,” I say so I don’t dwell on the other possibility. “You’re really going to ruin your supervillain mystique if you keep that up.”

“Like hell. Bad reputations are easy to get and nearly impossible to erase,” he says grimly. That almost-smile, almost-desire look disappears. “I wasn’t joking.”

“Don’t deny it! You absolutely did.”

“That was a statement of fact.”

I wave my flapjack bag at him. “I don’t think so. I bet you’re just a sadist who likes inflicting pain.”

“I’ll let you decide, Miss Destiny,” he growls, his gaze flicking from the last piece of flapjack to my face.

With a sigh, I hold it out to him as a peace offering. “Have at it. I don’t want to overstuff myself for the last leg of the trip.”

“As long as you don’t stuff it in my face again,” he grumbles.

I can’t help laughing.

This time, when he picks up his hunk of flapjack and stuffs it in his mouth, there’s an honest smile in his eyes.

* * *

A little while later,with our bellies full and our muscles stretched, he nods at his kayak and stands.

“Let’s get going.”

“Yep. Definitely a sadist,” I mutter.

He rewards me with an amused snort.

We don’t talk much as we set off again. I fidget with my small turtle necklace, pulling it out of my wet suit.

It’s brought me so much luck over the years it feels like an extension of my own skin.

But he does continue to teach me, barking back key information as we go.

He talks about the differences between ocean currents and freshwater, how to get through tricky inlets, how to push against choppy waters, what to do when you can’t, and how to survive when you’re being swept toward sharp rocks or a big-ass boat.

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