Chapter 12
twelve
PETER
With the season ending, I was lucky to find a rafting trip down the Colorado River at all. The guy who booked the trip warned me to bring cold water gear.
There would be a full raft of people if this were summer. He assured me there would only be a small handful this trip. We have a night to recover between high-adventure activities. Did I mention it’s a two-day float trip? At least I get to sit on rubber this time.
“Wow, Peter,” Geneva says, sitting up straighter in the passenger seat. I agree with her. I did a pretty good job of booking our lodgings this time. We pull under the porte cochere of an upscale-looking lodge in the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. If she thinks this is good, wait until she sees the view from our two-bedroom suite.
“We’ll check in, clean up, and go find something to eat,” I suggest. I know I could use a shower at this point. I drop her at the door and go to find a parking space, and I meet her at the check-in desk with our bags. A bellman takes us to our room.
“Oh my stars,” she sighs when he opens the door. Directly across is a large bay window with the curtains drawn back. It offers a breathtaking view of the canyon, lit with all the glory the sinking sun has to offer. “It’s beautiful.” She gawks at the show outside while I deal with the bellman.
“I’m going to take a shower. I stink,” I say.
“I’ll go in a second.” She waves me off. Her eyes haven’t moved from the view.
Hot water sluicing over my body does wonders to wake me back up. The drive was beautiful but silent. Geneva didn’t stir until we were already in the park. I stand in the middle of the walk-in shower as the rain head guarantees every particle of dirt is washed down the drain.
By the time I climb out, the bathroom is steamed up. I wipe the mirror clear with my towel and study my face. The beard that’s started growing back out can wait until we return from the raft trip.
“Sorry it took so long,” Geneva says a little later after her shower. I’m dressed and sitting on the couch in the living area. “It was hard to convince myself to leave that rain head.” She walks across the room to look out the dark window.
“You look incredible.” She does. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved button-down, and boots.
“You think so? It’s the only southwestern outfit I own.” She turns to face me. There’s a smile on her face. Smiling seems to come a little easier to her now. I like to think this adventure has something to do with that. That I have something to do with that.
“I do. You look like one of the locals.” Her long hair is brushed out straight. It lies in a dark curtain down her back. My hands itch to run through it. “Ready to eat?” I say instead.
“Yes, I’m famished.”
“Then we’d better go.” I stand and hold open the door. “After you.” She precedes me out.
The diner is mostly empty as we’re shown to our seats. The menu boasts everything from steak to vegan options. I order a ribeye. Geneva decides on fish. We forgo the wine list for water. I have a feeling we’ll need it over the next couple of days.
“So we’ll be camping along the river tomorrow night?” she asks. I’ve been reviewing what the guide said on the phone. “Do we take our gear?”
“Yes, we have to do it all this time. I’ve got our tent and sleeping bags packed. We also need to take a change of clothes in a dry bag.”
“This is why you asked me to bring my winter sailing gear?”
“It should keep you dry and reasonably warm. It’s the end of the season. We’re the last run before they pull out for winter. It’s going to be cold on the river,” I add.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” she says. “I’ve ridden horses before, obviously, and I’ve hiked. I’ve even heli-skiied but never whitewater rafted.”
“It should be a real learning experience for both of us.”
“I can’t wait,” she says. Her smile makes my heart pound in my chest. Her excitement is contagious. I find myself looking forward to hurling through the freezing rapids.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask after the waitress removes our plates and serves coffee. “You said something that’s had me thinking all day.”
“That sounds ominous,” she says.
“You said what if we don’t break up, what if we stay together? Do you believe that?”
She opens her mouth. I’m sure there’s something glib on her tongue. But then she reconsiders and takes a sip of coffee.
“I don’t know, Peter. Maybe we stay together. Maybe it’s just the thrill of the trip and we realize once we get to Austin that we’re better as friends. Maybe we don’t work at all, so it’s something we need to get out of our systems,” she says. “I just know that we’ve been circling each other since Rand left. It seems reasonable to see where it leads.”
I focus back on the coffee in front of me. We’ve been circling each other longer than that. Can I press forward knowing she might not want more than one night with me? I honestly don’t know where to go from here. A one-night stand has never been a problem for me. But I’ve never had one that involved Geneva.
“Mmm,” I hum. I’ll have to think about this.
“I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were looking for.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assure her. “At least you’re honest with me.”
“Can I ask you something?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“Will you promise me that, in the end, whatever happens, you won’t leave? That you’ll stay in Austin. That we can still be friends.”
I take her hand and kiss her knuckles.
“I promise.” I just hope it’s a promise I can keep.
* * *
The next morning is an early one. Geneva and I both retired to our bedrooms right after dinner. The van is picking us up before daybreak, so we both needed the sleep.
We head down early for a full breakfast before moving outside with our gear. I’m worried that Geneva will be cold on the river. She assures me again she won’t.
“You guys ready to raft?” a guy who looks too young to drive asks.
“We are,” she answers.
He helps load her gear into the back of a van, and I’m left to heave my own crap. She’s already chatting with him when I slide inside. He’s explaining exactly what levels the rapids are at. I’d rather just be surprised.
There are only four other guests at the raft when we arrive. There’s an older couple that I question can hold their own with a paddle. Then there’s a mother and young son who look terrified. I also question their rafting abilities.
Van guy takes off after unloading our gear, and we’re left with two men that look a lot more experienced. I breathe a sigh of relief. They review the safety rules, check that we have everything, and make sure that we’re still comfortable going.
Climbing in the raft, Geneva takes the spot in front of me. My mind settles a little. I’ll be able to keep an eye on her there. It doesn’t matter if we’re together or not, I’ll never stop protecting her.
“Okay, folks. We’re going to test your skills on one of the smaller rapids first. Ready?” Chuck, one of our guides, says and everyone cheers. Geneva leans back against me and shimmies. I guess that’s her way of showing how excited she is.
Then we’re being hurled through our first rapids. I paddle exactly as instructed.
“Whooo!” Geneva shouts when we are shot into calmer water.
“Yeah!” Chuck agrees. “Get ready for the next one.”
That’s how our morning progresses. The rapids grow steadily harder as we paddle like mad. Geneva cheers after each one. The rest of the guests join her every time. Hell, so do I after a while. It feels good to make it and still be living.
When the water calms again, the guides paddle over to the shore. We climb out while they produce lunch from one of the coolers.
“Are you enjoying it?” she asks, plopping onto the ground beside me.
“I am. Are you?”
“This has been amazing. I never knew how exhilarating it was.”
“So this was a good choice?
“The best,” she agrees, bumping me with her body.
“You two are so sweet,” the older woman says. “How long have you been married?”
“Oh, we’re not married,” Geneva says without missing a beat. “I’m just using him for sex.”
The woman looks shocked as she moves over by her husband. I place my head in my hand. She laughs when I shake it.
“Geneva,” I mumble. “She’s kidding,” I say louder. The woman just shoots me a dirty look. Her husband wags his eyebrows at me. “Can we not leave at least one older couple in the western United States unscandalized?”
“Nope,” she says. “But you know you love me anyway.”
“I do.” She’s kidding, but I’m not. It’s why I’ve decided I can’t just have a one-and-done with her. I love her too much to use her that way. I can finally admit it. If she wants to do this, I’m all in. I do want the house, kids, and a successful business. And I want it with her.
“Alright, everyone. We have more paddling to do before we’re done for the night,” Chuck says, and everyone piles back into the raft. Our guides load the trash in the cooler and set it in the boat. Soon, we’re right back in the rapids.
By the time the raft pulls back up to the bank, everyone’s energy is waning. We climb out and find our stuff. Geneva helps me pitch the small tent I brought. She arranges our sleeping bags inside while I fish out dry sleep clothes. We both have long underwear, socks, and watch caps to sleep in. It promises to be a cold one tonight.
Our guides cook dinner. We sit in a circle and eat out of bowls. Terry, our other guide, entertains us by singing camp songs. Many I know from all the times I camped as a kid. Geneva is enamored by them though. I forget that the idea of living in a tent and singing by a campfire is new to her.
Eventually, Chuck puts out the fire and we all head to our tents.
“Are you warm enough?” I ask as Geneva settles inside her sleeping bag.
“I will be. Just need to get settled.”
“If you need anything in the night, just wake me.”
“Okay. Thanks.” The campsite grows quiet. Slowly, I drift off to sleep.
The next thing I know, I’m being woken back up by someone shaking my shoulder.
“Peter?” Geneva whispers.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m frozen. Can I sleep with you?”
“Of course.” I unzip my sleeping bag and spread it out. Grabbing hers, I zip them together to make one big one. She snuggles underneath, next to me. Her feet are like ice. I can feel them through her socks.
“Put your feet between mine.” She does as instructed and I pull her against me. Soon I hear her breathing even out as she drifts off.
I debate staying awake just so I can enjoy her body pressed against mine. No wonder the other woman thought we were married. Your friend usually doesn’t share a sleeping bag. I tuck a lock of hair that’s escaped her braid behind her ear. She murmurs and snuggles up tighter under my chin.
I already know this will be the best sleep I’ll get. Something about having Geneva in my arms feels so right. If I can just convince us both that this could be our life.
My eyes close. She’s safe in my arms for now. All is right in the world.