Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
CALLUM
The nature of our business meant we frequently worked weekends. One day off was as good as any other to me, so I hardly cared when mine were. It wasn’t like I had to worry about some kind of social calendar. Days off were for getting the hell away from people and mentally recharging or doing some work on the house I’d bought. Sometimes Alex, Finn, or Ewan would drag me out and force me to people. Other times, I caved up like some kind of mountain hermit. At least until one of them or their well-intentioned women threatened to oust me with a stick of dynamite.
After the week I’d just had, I was wishing for a chance to hermit. As much good as Parker had brought to the office with her superior organizational skills, having her there had also been… a lot. She was just so bloody… cheerful. All. The. Time. I didn’t understand it. And while I appreciated that she now handled the phones and the lion’s share of client interactions for booking, I could hear her all day when I was there. It just underscored how bad I was at that part of the business. I’d spent most of my adult life operating as one of the elite. I hated feeling incompetent at anything.
But there’d be no chance to cave up until tomorrow. Today I was booked for a guided kayaking excursion. If the client had experience, that might not be too bad. I could simply lead them around the loch, and it wouldn’t require a lot of conversation. If they were a beginner, it could go either way. I didn’t relish the idea of needing to fish a tourist out of the cold water if they managed to capsize. The days were growing warmer as the Highlands rolled into spring, but warm here was relative. The water itself remained frigid well into the summer. Not that I hadn’t been trained for cold water rescue. It just wasn’t on my list of things I wanted to do today.
I stepped through the front door of the office.
Parker looked up from her perch behind the front desk and flashed that warm honey smile. “Mornin’.”
I grunted. Part of me hadn’t expected to see her here today, but someone had to handle equipment rentals, and I didn’t remember seeing anyone else on the schedule.
Her smile only deepened at my lack of real response, a pair of dimples popping out in her cheeks. Of course she had dimples like some kind of fucking cherub. It was almost as if she thought my shite attitude was amusing. Except that made absolutely no sense at all.
Scraping together some civility, I approached the desk. “Have you heard anything from my client? I’m booked for a guided kayak today.”
“It’s me.”
“Huh?”
“Y’all said you’d take me on the trip of my choice. I figured it would be easier if I just put it on the schedule like a regular client.”
Finn had said that. As she’d been largely in control of the schedule, it meant she’d been in control of choosing her guide.
“And you picked me?” Why the hell would she do that to herself?
Her brows quirked. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“No. No, I can take you.” Shaking off the confusion, I flipped into professional mode. “It’s still pretty cold out. We need to make sure you’re dressed properly.”
“Got that covered. I’m wearing synthetic long johns, hiking pants, and a fleece. I know we’ve got waterproof pants and jackets here.”
“No cotton socks,” I ordered.
“Nope, they’re wool.” She stood up and came out from behind the desk for my inspection.
I scanned her from head to toe. She actually had dressed appropriately.
“Have you ever kayaked before?”
“Not a day in my life. I’m a complete beginner.”
I folded my arms and studied her. “Why do you want to do this?”
I expected her to have some kind of ready, flippant response, but instead she seemed to consider the question with an unusual amount of seriousness.
“Because it’s something out of my comfort zone that looks like a challenge, but not so much of a challenge that I’d be in totally over my head. Not that I’m worried about getting in over my head. Obviously, you’re very capable, so if anything goes wrong, you’ll handle it.”
I appreciated her vote of confidence in my abilities. I appreciated, too, this level of responsible caution. We’d had plenty of clients who’d oversold their expertise in various things. It never ended well.
“Okay. I’ll start gathering up equipment. If you’re coming out, who’s on desk duty?”
Finn stepped out of the back. “That’ll be me. Herself has given me homework to input my trip logs for the week into the new project management system.”
“You’ll thank me when you’re fully switched over.”
“That remains to be seen. But I concede you’ve already worked wonders, so I’m willing to trust you a bit further.”
I left the two of them chatting and began pulling gear. Half an hour later, the kayaks were loaded on the top of my 4x4, and all the rest of the equipment was piled into the backseat.
“Do you have a dry change of clothes in case you tip?”
“I’m hoping not to tip, but yes.”
I handed her a dry bag to stuff those into.
“I’ll need one more. I brought snacks for us.”
“Snacks,” I repeated. I also had snacks, but somehow I thought her version was more than trail mix and energy bars.
“Yeah. I thought you might know a good spot for a picnic.”
A picnic. Christ.
“We’ll see.”
She stayed miraculously quiet on the drive out to Lochmara. The estate was one of two large ones in the area, both owned by cousins of Ciara and Ewan. Scotland had a right to roam, but due to the potential liability issues, we’d made more formal arrangement to run excursions on their properties. I took a series of farm tracks past the assorted crofts leased from the estate and a number of cottages they’d turned into vacation rentals. We passed rolling hills and disappeared into the green dark of the forest. Parker drank up the view with rapt attention. A little while later, we emerged at the west end of the loch, which had a good shallow spot that would suit our orientation lesson.
I pulled down the kayaks and carted them over to the shoreline. Parker followed with the dry bags. I stowed them in their spot, and we both tugged on our waterproof layers. Then I had her get into her kayak on the ground and began to give her the overview of the equipment. She listened to me with the same rapt attention she’d given the view, asking questions and following every instruction I gave. She wasn’t going to be one of those problematic clients who tried something reckless. Good. That would be less stressful for me.
“Right, then. Before we go anywhere, you need to get comfortable with the basic strokes.” I positioned my kayak parallel to hers in the shallows, close enough to demonstrate, but not so near she’d panic if she wobbled. “First thing is your posture. Sit up straight, feet braced on the foot pegs.”
Parker adjusted, her movements precise and careful. The sunshine yellow of her borrowed waterproof jacket was an assault on my good eye, but her form was textbook perfect. Which was… unexpected.
“Like this?” She looked over, all earnest concentration.
“Aye. Now, the basic forward stroke is like this.” I kept my movements slow and exaggerated. Having to compensate for my blind side made me hyper-aware of my form these days. “Push with your top hand, pull with your bottom hand. You want to slice into the water about where your feet are, then pull straight back along the side of the boat.”
She mimicked the motion, albeit tentatively. “I feel like I’m going to tip over.”
“You won’t.” The calm certainty in my voice surprised me. “The boat’s more stable than it feels. Try it again, but this time, engage your core. Think about the power coming from your trunk, no’ your arms.”
Her second attempt was stronger, more controlled. A quick learner, this one. And for once, the perfectionist in me wasn’t screaming about someone doing it wrong.
“Better. Now let’s work on stopping before you end up in Inverness.”
I took her through the rest of it until I was confident she’d be able to manage in open water. She was such a good student that I felt some of the usual tension I carried when I was teaching bleed out.
“Ready to go?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll take the lead. Call out if you’re feeling unsteady, aye?”
She grinned and gave a smart salute. “Aye, Captain!”
I caught myself almost smiling, and quickly schooled my expression as I dipped my paddle into the water.
The cloud cover dissipated as we went, until shafts of sunlight caught the ripples of our wake, scattering diamonds across the water. Parker kept pace beside me, staying just at the edge of my good eye’s view. She’d picked up the rhythm quickly enough, and for the past hour, we’d moved in companionable silence. No inane chatter, no constant questions. Just the lap of water against our boats and the cry of a hunting osprey overhead.
I’d expected her usual sunshine disposition to spill out all over everything, but she seemed content to simply… be. To observe. Her head turned at each new sight—the flash of a kingfisher’s wing, the looming crags of the hills, the ruins of the old crofter’s cottage we passed. But she held her peace, absorbing it all with a quiet reverence that sat oddly with my mental image of her.
A flash of movement had me raising my hand in the signal to stop—one she’d memorized instantly during our safety briefing. Her paddle stilled. Twenty feet to our right, three sleek heads broke the surface. Otters. The whole family of them were out for their morning hunt.
“Oh!” The soft exclamation drew my attention from the otters to Parker. Her face… Christ. Like someone had lit her up from the inside, pure joy radiated from every feature. She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to contain her excitement, but her eyes sparkled with it. One of the otters dove beneath her kayak, popping up on the other side with a fish in its mouth, and she bounced a little in her seat.
The movement sent her boat rocking, and my hand shot out automatically to steady her craft. But she’d already corrected, already found her balance again, all without taking her eyes off the wildlife show around us.
My chest felt tight. I told myself it was just the damp air.
We stayed where we were until the otters disappeared.
“That was absolutely incredible,” she breathed, staring at where the last one had gone under.
“Aye, it was.” But I was looking at her. Because all the tension I’d been carting around this week—hell, for months—had let go. I was more relaxed out here on the water with her than I’d been… maybe since my accident. And that was a bloody miracle.
I tore my gaze away from her. “C’mon. I think I know a place for our picnic.”
We paddled for another half hour, until we reached the shore of a tiny, forested island far from any of the inhabited stretches of the loch. I directed her where to beach her kayak and watched her execute my instructions to perfection.
“Stay there. I’ll help you out.”
I beached my kayak beside hers and loosened my spray skirt so I could climb out of the boat. I splashed through the shallows, dragging my boat further ashore. Then I turned and held out a hand for Parker as she began to extricate herself.
“Should I pass you the dry bags first?”
“We’ll get them once I pull the kayak. Hand.” I flexed mine to emphasize the order.
She laid her hand in mine, and I held on as she wiggled free of the spray skirt and stepped out of her boat. She staggered a bit as her second foot got caught, and would have toppled straight into the water if my arms hadn’t automatically tightened around her, banding her against me.
“Oop!” Her own arms wrapped tight around my waist, and she looked up at me with wide eyes, close enough now I could see the gold flecks in their depths.
Damn, but I wanted to drown in those eyes.
Parker took a tighter hold on me and for one mad second, I thought she’d rise to her toes and kiss me. I didn’t think I had it in me to stop her because I desperately wanted to know what that smiling mouth tasted like.
Instead, she found her footing and straightened, releasing me. “Sorry about that.”
Disappointment shot through me as she made her way fully onto the shore.
For the best.
It wouldn’t do to start something up with the likes of her. We needed her for the business. I couldn’t go fucking that up out of curiosity. And I would fuck it up. I wasn’t relationship material. I wasn’t any kind of human material these days, and I’d do well to remember that.