Marrying the Guide (Forestville Silver Foxes)

Chapter 1

1

ONNO

H ow the fuck was I supposed to get into a kayak without it toppling over and sending me splashing into the river? Not one of life’s more existential problems but at the moment a pressing one, considering I’d signed up for a kayak tour on the Skykomish River in the beautiful state of Washington. And while I was an excellent swimmer—most Dutch people were—that didn’t mean I wanted to test my skills, thank you very much.

I eyed the red kayak assigned to me with distrust. It looked…too small. Too narrow to keep my balance. A few years ago, when I’d finally convinced Gerard to do something fun together, we’d kayaked on a lake. But that kayak had been different, one you sat on and not in. And it had been a hell of a lot wider and that lake a hell of a lot calmer than this river.

“Everything okay?” The voice was as warm as a shot of whiskey on a cold winter night.

I spun around, my mouth dry. Our guide, Howell, stood before me: six feet of muscled yumminess with a smile that could thaw the snow off the distant peaks. Alas, straight yumminess, unless my gaydar was severely malfunctioning, which wasn’t out of the question, as everything else in my life seemed to be on life support as well.

“Yes. I’m fine, but I do have a question. How do I?—”

“—get into the kayak without getting wet?” Howell grinned.

“I guess I’m not the first to ask?” I chuckled sheepishly.

“Nope, happens all the time. But I’m happy to show you. First, let’s get your kayak farther into the water.”

Without breaking a sweat, Howell one-arm dragged it half into the water.

“The trick is to get it far enough out that you can easily push off but not so far it’ll float away or you get more than your feet wet.”

Right. He’d positioned it perfectly, then. Well, duh, that was his job.

“And then you step in, hold on to both sides for stability, and sit. See?”

He demonstrated, surprisingly nimble for a man of his built. But again, his job.

“I think I’ve got it,” I said with far more confidence than I felt. My nervousness increased when I noticed everyone else had already gotten in their kayaks and was now watching me. Fuck.

“Good.”

Howell climbed out of the kayak with grace, and then it was my turn. I double-checked that my life jacket was buckled tightly. I could easily see myself losing it and watching it float down the river. Not happening.

Okay, if the others could do it, I could too, right? I wasn’t the most coordinated person, but I did have decent balance.

“I’ll help you,” Howell said.

Oh great. If I flipped, he’d have a front-row seat to my humiliation. “Thank you.”

With my knuckles white from the force, I held on to the kayak and lifted my right foot.

“You know what,” Howell said. “I’ll keep the kayak steady. Put your hand on my shoulder for support.”

I searched his face for any sign of condescension. Finding none—only the earnest offer of assistance—I nodded, my heart pounding. A sense of impending doom settled in my belly, making me even tenser, but I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Good. Now move your left foot.”

I followed his lead, trying to appear positive, acutely aware of the strength in his grip, the calm control in his movements. I placed a wobbly foot in the kayak. But my other foot, still on the ground, seemed to have developed a sudden fondness for the earth, refusing to lift as smoothly as I’d intended.

I closed my eyes. Here went nothing. I forced myself to push through my fear and raised my foot. I’d done it! Elation filled me, but then I opened my eyes and promptly lost my balance. My arms flailed, seeking something solid in a world that had decided to spin around me. Howell grabbed me, but I toppled sideways, slammed into him, and sent him backward into the chilly current of the Skykomish River with me on top of him.

My shriek, amid the chorus of gasps, could’ve woken the dead. Mortified, I scrambled to my feet, the water coming to my middle. Oh god, how upset would Howell be? He’d been submersed in the water and was now dripping wet.

But when he rose, he was laughing, showing a row of straight teeth. With the water streaming from his beard, he looked like a rugged captain. He winked. “That didn’t go as planned.”

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered, my cheeks burning despite the cold water. “I didn’t mean to… Well, obviously, I didn’t plan to almost drown you.”

His grin widened as he shook his hair like a dog. “No worries. It takes a lot more to drown me, trust me. This was just a refreshing dip.”

How nice of him to try and make me feel better. “That was about as graceful as a cat on ice. Anyway, I think it’s safe to say kayaking is not my thing. You guys can go without me.”

Howell pushed stray strands of wet hair from his forehead, his beard glistening with droplets of river water. “Nah, you’re coming with us. Everyone capsizes their first time. It’s like an initiation rite. And after this, what’s the worst that can happen? You’re already wet. It’s a gorgeous day out, so you won’t get too cold while you’re drying.”

Despite my embarrassment, I smiled. “True, but I still have to get into that damn kayak.”

“Do you trust me?”

I looked into a pair of soulful brown eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. We’ll do it the same way I do with little kids.”

Before I knew what was happening, he’d lifted me out of the water and deposited me into the kayak. Automatically, I sat down.

“There ya go.” He sounded satisfied, like a man who’d solved a problem. “Now stay seated, okay?”

If my cheeks were as red as I feared, there was no way he hadn’t noticed, but he sent me a smile and didn’t add to my humiliation. He hopped into his kayak, seemingly unbothered by his soaked clothes. “Okay, now let’s do a quick refresher on how to use your paddle…”

He went through the basics, and I paid close attention. When he gave the signal we’d be on our way, I was able to keep up with the others. As low as that bar was, I was proud of myself.

Watching Howell navigate the water with such natural grace stirred a fluttering in my chest. He was strength and stability personified, a counterpoint to the chaos my life had become. His beard, flecked with droplets from the spray, gave him a tough, strong look that contrasted sharply with the softness in his eyes.

But after fifteen minutes, even that view couldn’t lift my mood. My ass was sore, my shoulders were on fire, and my abs were screaming for mercy. My arms burned with each stroke, every muscle fiber stinging as if woven from barbed wire. Fucking hell, this was so much more of a workout than I had counted on. Maybe because of the current?

“You doing okay?” Howell checked. “Onno, was it?”

“Yeah. And I don’t know, to be honest. My body has muscles protesting I didn’t even know I had.”

He snorted. “Kayaking is not as easy as it looks.”

“Now he tells me. “

“Are you saying you didn’t read the release forms before you signed them?”

“You mean the ten pages of American let’s-cover-our-ass legalese?”

“You have a bit of an accent. Where are you from, if I may ask?”

“I’m from the Netherlands, from Leiden, about half an hour from Amsterdam.”

His eyes lit up. “There’s a bakery in Forestville that sells a lot of Dutch pastries.”

I nodded. “Brianna is my sister-in-law. She’s married to my brother, Joost. I’m here visiting them.”

And hoping to get my mojo back. Somewhere in my fifteen-year marriage to Gerard, I’d lost the sense of who I was. Was it crazy to hope I would find myself here?

“Her pastries draw people from all over the state, and no wonder. They’re amazing.” He patted his stomach—or rather his life vest—and grinned. “I had to schedule extra workouts to burn the calories.”

“Or you could not eat them.”

He laid his hand on his heart in mock shock. “Why would I punish myself like that? I’ll happily add an hour to my daily workout so I can keep eating what she bakes.”

It still baffled me that Brianna had found so much success with simple Dutch pastries. The krentenbollen , stroopwafels , and boterkoek sold like hotcakes. Granted, she was an excellent baker, but I hadn’t expected Americans to love them so much. And the Dutch bread always sold out as well.

“What do you do for a living?” Howell asked.

If he was trying to distract me from my aching muscles by making conversation, he was succeeding. “I’m an accountant, so about the most boring job you can imagine.”

So boring, in fact, that Gerard had told me not to mention it unless people specifically asked. Few had. People had little interest in me whenever he and I were somewhere together. He always got the attention, which made sense. He was a plastic surgeon, full of colorful stories. Unlike me.

“Do you like it?” Howell asked. “Being an accountant, I mean. Do you like it?”

Huh. No one had ever asked me that. “I do. Numbers calm me, and balancing the books is like bringing order to chaos. When everything adds up, literally, it always gives me a deep satisfaction.”

Howell shrugged. “So why call it boring?”

“‘Cause most people feel that way about accounting.”

“Yeah, so? That sounds like they have a problem, not you. You’re not responsible for how other people feel.”

I stared at him. How had he summarized in one sentence what my therapist had been trying to get me to see over the last four months? “Thank you,” I said hoarsely. “You’re absolutely right.”

“You’re welcome. Are you recovered enough to paddle on your own again?”

Huh?

My confusion must’ve shown because he pointed at a rope between his kayak and mine.

“Have you been?—”

“—pulling you? Sure have. You looked like you needed a break, and everyone else seemed to be doing fine.”

Jesus, and I hadn’t even picked up on it. “Thank you. And sorry.”

He unhooked the rope with a smooth move. “Why are you apologizing? It was my choice, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“No buts. Don’t say sorry for what wasn’t your fault or responsibility.”

“Can I hire you as my life coach?” I blurted out.

Howell threw his head back and laughed, a full-out belly laugh that had the kayakers in front of us looking over their shoulders to see what was happening. “Nah, I think I’ll stick to being a wilderness guide. The life advice is a free bonus.”

Hmm, what other activities did the company he worked for offer? Because whether he was straight or not, I wanted to hang out with him again. Preferably without dunking him, but that was a minor detail. Maybe something on dry land? Did they do hikes? Not much could go wrong with hikes, right?