out on my own, especially with Sam. We had only six days left together, and I was already dreading having to say goodbye.
We backed up and play-fought over who got to steer, finally agreeing that I’d go first, then he’d get a turn.
“Girls usually like to be driven around,” he said when he conceded control of the simple lever.
“Careful,” I growled darkly, but playfully, over at him. “You wouldn’t want to sound sexist.”
With a sweet smile, he held a hand to his heart. “I sure wouldn’t.”
It was windier on the lake than it was on the paved trail, and steering proved harder than I’d expected. Paddling was comical. I was pushing with every bit of strength I had and still barely managed to keep us moving in a straight line.
“Canoing is way easier,” I whined. “Mental note to request they stock canoes when we return.”
“Or kayaks.”
“We have these huge lines of canoes at the beach in town,” I told him, already breathless. “They used to be metal and would get hot as hell in the sun. Now they’re these thick, inflatable ones. Yellow rubber. You’ll see tourists all over the river, tipping over where it gets gnarled just before Jenner.”
“You get a lot of tourists?”
“In the summer, yeah.” I stopped, working to catch my breath. “Wine country. The river. I get it—it’s a nice place to stay . . . for a few days.”
He laughed at this and again, we veered left because he was pedaling so much more forcefully than I could.
“Lend me one of your legs,” I said.
He reached over, tickling my side, and then shifted his hand behind me, letting it rest around my shoulders. “This okay?”
I had to swallow past a thick swell of YES in my throat, and managed a garbled, “Of course.”
“Sorry we cut out of breakfast so early.”
For once this morning, Sam and Luther were downstairs before we arrived, and they left only a few minutes after we’d returned with our plates of food. “Is Luther okay?”
“Not sure. He hasn’t been eating much.”
Now that he mentioned it, I’d noticed it, too.
His hand curled around the back of my neck, warm and firm. Changing the subject, he asked, “Is it weird to be on your own in a big city?”
“A little. Mom and Nana don’t really let me go anywhere alone.”
“Were they worried about something happening related to your dad?” He squeezed my neck gently. “Or are they just overprotective?”
“I don’t think they were worried about Dad. More the media, I guess. Or . . . it just became habit to worry. Every day, up until I graduated, one of them would drop me off and pick me up from school.”
He looked floored. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “I have a driver’s license, but I’ve driven alone only a handful of times, and only ever around town. I’ve been to movies with friends without Nana or Mom, but am required to check in immediately after the show ends.”
“But now they’re letting you move to Sonoma? How far is that?”
“Fifty miles. It’s about as close as I could be.” Regret pulsed like a twin heartbeat inside me. “I also got in to Santa Cruz, University of Oregon, and UC Santa Barbara—but it just felt too far.”
He hummed and slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, sending an electric pulse from my scalp to the base of my spine. I could feel his fingertips, the way his hand flexed. He made tiny circles with the tip of his index finger, and the sensation traveled down my body; an anticipatory thrum settled low in my navel.
“By the time I was twelve,” he said, “I was out in the barns at dawn, and then earning money mowing lawns, pitching hay, you name it. Luther and Roberta rarely had any idea where I was when I wasn’t at school or the dinner table with them. I think that kind of supervision would’ve driven me crazy.”
“Probably. It drives me crazy, and I’m used to it.”
“Could I come see you in Sonoma?”
My legs stiffened so suddenly that we tilted left. Sam’s hand came over mine on the steering lever, gently guiding us away from an oncoming boat. Once we paddled ourselves clear, he let go and looked over at me, amused. “Did I freak you out?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t manage to spit out a simple no. I mean, obviously I’d been wondering the same thing—hoping that I could see him again after we left London—but those kinds