Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,60
buzz. If I hadn’t been paying attention, or know better to assume otherwise, I might be convinced something extra was slipped into my water.
Control has been given to far more capable hands. It’s no secret that my psyche is bubble wrapping the fragile state I’m in. This blissful mood is a projection, but that’s a coping mechanism I willingly practice. In my professional opinion, which is horribly biased and not reliable, the acceptance phase has been welcomed in. I’ve officially offered that final stage a warm bed to stay indefinitely.
Being on the open water isn’t something I expected to find joy in. When I not-so-willingly boarded the canoe yesterday, fear rattled down into my bones. I was cold, teetering on edge, and any fizzle of adrenaline tapered off way too soon. With the storm chasing us, our pace was forced to be full tilt. I didn’t have the chance to recline on this warped bench and smell the pine-scented air. The experience on the river this morning is completely different. We’re coasting at a steady pace without any hint of hurry or concern.
I peel my eyelids open, the motion more lazy than the smile spreading my lips. Pale blue paints the view above, flickering golden hues between naked branches. I imagine those empty limbs are seeking a lover to embrace. That tingling urge resonates on a constant hum in my lower belly. The clouds resemble cotton candy and remind me of afternoons at a carnival. Those puffs seem to share my mentality and crawl along with floating flow.
A gruff cough attempts to poke at my quiet abyss. “Do you want to dock at the next clearing?”
“What? Why?” I sit up so fast that the boat rocks. The haze I’m in protects me from even flinching.
Halder chuckles at my choppy movements. “Just for a break. We could make lunch and take a hike through the woods.”
I think about that for a moment, listening to the nonexistent grumble of my stomach and finding it passive, at worst. Stretching my legs doesn’t sound all that bad. But the dangers that linger between the trees are more menacing compared to anything swimming below us. That’s what I’ve been telling myself, at least. “I’m enjoying this easy ride we’re on. Are you hungry? Do you need to get off the boat?”
“Nah, I’m all good.” He gives his head a rough shake. A reflective glow casts a glint on the stubble coating his jaw, highlighting that dark scruff with a beacon. As if I need another excuse to stare. “I’ll dig out some trail mix or a protein bar.”
I watch him lean forward to riffle through our food bag. “We can stop. Those chalky flavors are no substitute for fresh fish.”
“I’ll survive Blakely. Don’t worry.”
That’s his go-to phrase. I hate that he’s still relying on the bare minimum to maintain any level of satisfaction. In retrospect, he’s been through hell and is sitting with me to discuss the tale. Now is a good time to nod and agree. “Whatever you say, boss.”
He squints at me. “I prefer your sass.”
I let my mouth drop open with a pop. “Does that mean I’m a diva?”
Halder shakes his head again, adding a crooked smirk for visual stimulation. “Not at all. More like spunky. I happen to find your type of attitude very sexy.”
His words create goosebumps along my arms. I bask in that electric zing as if he’s supplying another dose of vitamin D. “That changes things. Let’s take a moment to appreciate a new site, I insist.”
“Aren’t we already?” He nods at my precarious position while I remain half sprawling across the seat.
I slam my knees together. There’s no need to be spread wide with snow pants concealing any chance of a peep show. “Well, you’re doing all the work.”
Halder bounces his eyebrows. “I don’t mind, sweetheart. This is the best view a man could beg for.”
“You’ve been deprived too long,” I whisper.
“Not the way I see it.”
Gah, his green stare could spark flames without a speck of wood or flint. I’m sure those fiery beams are visible from the heavens. It sure feels like he’s sending me there with each glance. There’s no disguising my shiver that has nothing to do with the tickle of wind teasing me. How much longer am I expected to resist? Screw the winter conditions.
“Maybe we should pull over, just for a bit. A little breather break sounds nice, huh?” My voice is pure suggestion laced with seduction. I’ll never claim to