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Once I was seated, Fox climbed in. The narrow boat rocked back and forth a few times, which I thought was funny. Fox, not so much. He had such a serious look on his face as he started to paddle. We’d made it about thirty feet from shore when I realized my feet were getting wet.
“Was there water in here when you put the kayak in?”
Fox looked down. “What the fuck?”
Water was coming in from somewhere, and my end seemed to be floating lower. Not to mention, my feet were almost covered now. I leaned up to look at the floor behind me. “Oh shit. There’s a hole under this seat cushion!”
Fox started to paddle fast, attempting to turn the kayak around and head back to shore. But the hunk of plastic wasn’t going anywhere but down. The lake quickly filled up the hole we were seated on, and my side tilted down.
I stood, wobbling. “I think we need to abandon ship.”
Fox wrapped an arm around me, and we jumped from the sinking kayak together. He didn’t let go as he swam toward the shore.
“Fox, I’m fine! I can swim on my own.”
But he kept going, like he was a lifeguard and I was a drowning swimmer. The entire scene was pretty comical. He didn’t even let go a few strokes later, when I told him I could feel the bottom under my feet. After a few minutes more, we were back at the shore, and Fox finally released the death grip he’d had on me. Our clothes were soaked as we climbed to our feet, and I couldn’t help but laugh because—hell, it was funny.
“I’m going to call you Mitch fromBaywatch,” I said.
“It’s not funny.”
“Seriously?” I bunched up the hem of my shirt and twisted, wringing it out. “Itsois.”
Fox looked me up and down. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I laughed. “Maybe a fractured rib from your death-grip rescue, but otherwise I’m all good.”
“Sorry.” He frowned. “I’m going to change.” He didn’t wait for me to respond before turning toward his house.
I yelled after him, still laughing. “I was joking. My ribs are fine. Come over when you’re done. I’ll put dinner in the oven.”
I figured Fox’s grumpy mood would be cured once I put the food I’d made earlier today in front of him. When I was at the Laurel Lake Inn with Opal last week, I’d mentioned that I’d love the recipe for the pork Fox loved so much. Not long after, she’d disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a sticky note and winked. Apparently, her sister’s best friend’s husband worked in the kitchen, so all she had to do was ask.
I put the roast into the oven and hopped in the shower. But when an hour passed and Fox still hadn’t come over, I texted him.
Josie: Hey. Dinner will be ready in about forty-five minutes.
I waited a few minutes, but no return text came in. In fact, my message didn’t even show as read. When the alarm I’d set for the roast went off forty-five minutes later, I took it out of the oven and picked up the phone to call Fox. Could he have fallen asleep? Or shoot—maybe his phone had been in his pocket when we jumped into the lake and now it was dead. His phone rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail.
I bet it was in his pocket. That must be it.
So I slipped on my shoes and walked out the front door. But I stopped short when I realized Fox’s pickup truck wasn’t in his driveway anymore.
Where the heck did he disappear to?
CHAPTER 30
Drunk on Love
Josie
“Hello?” I answered on the first ring.
“Hi, honey. It’s Opal. Any chance you know where the boss is?”
My shoulders slumped. “No. I was actually hoping you were him. I don’t think he came home last night.”
“Where’d he go?”
