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He was buying his own place in Oregon. Starting a camp, by himself. Because he wouldn’t have a partner in Oregon.
Okay, he was overthinking. He could hire someone.
Of course he could.
But he wouldn’t have Beth.
He blew out a breath. He was getting in far too deep, and that scared him more than the lake he faced.
“Look at you, dressed like a civilian.” Beth walked up wearing shorts and a dark-green T-shirt. The cut of both highlighted her athletic figure.
His heart skittered at the memory of kissing her. The way she’d responded.
If only Rex hadn’t interrupted them, because, well—what did they say now?
She pointed to his athletic shorts and shoes, and her fingers played with the end of her braid. “I’m so impressed. I didn’t know you still owned anything that wasn’t straight out ofWestern Horseman.” She kept her words light, but he’d been around her enough to know nerves made her twirl her braid.
“I think I already stick out enough in Deep Haven—I don’t need to be dubbed the kayaking cowboy.”
She laughed. “Good point. Welcome to my world.” She fanned her hands out at the kayaks as if revealing a prize up for grabs.
“Great,” he said. It came out pinched and lackluster.
She stopped, wrung her hands in the hem of her T-shirt. “You don’t have to do this.”
“It’s fine.” He mustered the words, giving her his best rodeo game face. “I need to do this.”
Beth reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, then nodded.
For every part of him that thought he needed to do this, there was some serious internal opposition. Still, he couldn’t turn back. After all, Beth had gotten back on Rex.
He followed her to the beach, to the two kayaks waiting. Every step closer to the water caused a constriction in his throat like a dallied lariat on the saddle horn.
Nope. This would not be good for either one of them.
His breath hitched, his stomach sinking like his life had in the lake.
She shook out her hands and grabbed paddles that were leaning nearby.
He stopped at the water’s edge. He’d ridden horses through water crossings. He’d even drifted on languid stretches of the Deschutes River in Oregon. But this? No, not this. Because this was Lake Superior. This was the unforgiving, icy grave that had stolen his parents from him.
He ran his hand across the constriction in his throat.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Sure.” Even though his pulse thrummed in his ears.
She dropped the paddles. “You’re a terrible liar.” Her green eyes studied him.
Fine. “It’s harder than I expected…” With her, he knew he didn’t have to finish.
“I’m sorry.” She placed her hand on his arm. Her soft fingertips electrified every cell in his body. “We don’t have to go,” she finished, her voice gentle, a sweet caress filled with care.
The power in her tiny frame emboldened him. This was the girl who had overcome her own fear. Who’d gotten back on when she’d nearly had another catastrophic fall.
The look in her eyes caused a raw kind of courage to take root in him. She had true courage. The kind that was afraid—but did it anyway.
“Yeah. I think we do.” He glanced out over the lake. A clear blue sky. The waters flat and blue. “Today’s the day.”
