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My phone beeps and thankfully short-circuits my thoughts of Hunter and his hands. I glance at the screen. Kyle. It’s early for him. How are things in Vermont? he asks.
Fine. I honestly don’t have the mental capacity for him to push any Brenda agendas right now.
When are you coming back?
Tuesday next week. Why? Still think I should squeeze in the Bahamas too in my week of vacation, huh?
Kyle doesn’t respond and I toss my phone to the side and pick up my book again, but my mind keeps wandering back to last night and Hunter and the words only blur on the page.
When my phone rings I totally expect it to be Kyle again, so I push away the memories of last night and the unfed need that makes me regret kissing Hunter in the first place. Hunter isn’t up for a one-night stand. I’d be up for way more than that, but it is what it is. Maybe I don’t regret kissing him after all.
It’s my boss and I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with her either, but this isn’t a call I can ignore. I steel myself. “Hey Jana,” I answer on the sixth ring.
“How’re things going?”
Dandy. Just fucking dandy. “Nice. Couldn’t ask for better.” I look up at the lake and the trees, which are at their peak this week. “It’s the best really. I should’ve come long ago.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Are you at least relaxing or are you working yourself up over the farm sale?”
I’m worked up, all right. “For now I’m letting the agent run with it. I’ll sign on the dotted line at some point.”
“Good.” Jana sighs into the phone. “Listen, I’m sorry to call but I wanted to let you know that our hearing with the competition bureau is scheduled for next Friday.”
Oh God. “So soon?”
“I also thought it would be at least three more weeks. And they asked for some additional documentation.” She sighs into the phone. “Once we have that compiled, we'll need to review and make sure we’re on top of everything before we go for the hearing.”
My throat tightens. More documentation? Never mind that, I’m not ready to go back to San Francisco yet. Somehow it feels as if I just arrived. I have Sasha in my mind’s eye. She needs to make a mental shift about her ex and her situation. That might take time, but at least she should connect with a domestic violence network for support. Bumping into Bob at Al’s Grocer also triggered a landslide of career-orientated woes that I need to emotionally clamp down on before I can set a foot back at the office.
“Do you need me to come back earlier?” I ask, back on my little hamster wheel already like the well-trained corporate drone I am.
“No. Please don’t. I just wanted to give you a heads up so that you don’t get the surprise first thing when you’re back.”
“Thank you.” Jana was pushy to get me to go on vacation, but she just dropped work back into my life as if it were an in-flight bird poop.
“While I have you on the line, can I pick your brain?”
Saying no is never an option. “Sure.” I close my eyes and listen as she rambles on about a new merger our company will assist with. I zoom in and out of little details as I read between the lines. After an hour of discussion, we ring off and I feel lawyer-drained. This short time away from the office isn’t helping my legalese-laced exhaustion. I’m going to need a much longer break than just a week in Vermont to revive my enthusiasm for mergers and acquisitions.
In the bright afternoon sun, the lake seems bluer and more enticing than ever before. I glance toward the canoe rack. This is one thing I haven’t tried yet, and I used to love being out on the water. Standup paddleboarding is big in San Francisco. I’ve often watched people out on South Beach Harbor during a rushed lunch but have never tried it out. Being on the water will clear my head and help me get over this hangover.
I don’t have a swimsuit here, never mind a wetsuit, but surely if I can stand on the board as a start… maybe I’ll ask Hunter to lend me a wetsuit over the weekend. That is, if I get to see him again without blushing lobster red. Best I try this out without any Logan onlookers. I don’t want to make an ass of myself twice in twenty-four hours.
I head back into the cottage, toss my phone on the bed—I’m done for the day in the work department, thank you very much—and strip off my heavier jeans and change into lighter cargo hiking pants. I’m toasty now that I’ve sat in the sun and baked for an hour in a blanket oven. My headache is gone too, but after the call with Jana I feel rebellious and stride out to the canoe rack and ease the paddleboard from its place lowest on the rack. I’m halfway there already.
Next comes the paddle, so easy to spot between the others with its long handle and different shape. With the paddle in one hand, I first test standing on the board. It’s wide and has good traction with the padding where my feet go. My shoes might be a bad idea, so I toe them off and leave them with my socks on the deck. Now I have even better grip on the board. I sway side to side to see how difficult it will be to keep my balance, but in comparison to some of the narrow canoes I’ve been in, this feels like a twenty-square-foot raft I have all to myself.
I push the paddleboard into the water and step into the shallows. Yikes. It’s chilly. With the same move I memorized that day on seeing Hunter do it, I step up onto the board. For a second I wobble and my stomach flips, but I stick the paddle into the muddy side of the lake and manage to keep an even keel. Triumph is mine!
With the paddle still providing a link to the ground, I widen my stance as I’ve seen paddleboarders do. See, so easy. Once I’ve tested my balance by swaying on soft legs in the shallow waters, I take a deep breath and push away from the edge.
It’s a breeze; I don’t know why I didn’t try it out long ago. I’m used to paddling and I get the hang of the long rowing pretty easily. Soon I’m gliding past Hunter’s deck, and glance at his house and through the glass doors. Nobody seems to be at home. Thank God.
For several minutes I continue along the edge of the lake, until there are no more houses, just forest lining the lake’s edge. I spot a fallen tree that leans into the lake some yards ahead and steer away to not scrape the bottom of the paddleboard against protruding branches. This move pushes me deeper into open water. The breeze has picked up and helps me along. From the play on the water’s surface there’s a current about ten yards away. I glance back, trying to gauge how far I am from my cottage. At least it’s only eighty yards or so.
I’m not cocky when it comes to this type of thing. And I like to think I’m not stupid… but I’m not dressed for being in the water at this time of year, and now, with the breeze nipping at me, I’m not dressed to be on top of it either. Gliding straight on a paddleboard on smooth water proved to be child’s play. Turning back to head home in choppier waters might be something I need to practice when it’s warmer.
The cold wind has already numbed my fingers and small waves are now crashing over the board with every stroke of the paddle. Now my feet are stinging too. For a few seconds I glance around to see if there are any other idiots out on the water who could come to my aid. Nope… maybe the yokels know when to be out on the water and when to stay well away. To think I used to be a yokel.
