Chapter Seven
Wanda woke to the chirping of birds. It was barely light.
It must be super-early. Emma would call it the butt-crack of dawn.
Really early, but the chill of the night had slipped away to the warmth of the morning.
It was more than warm. It was hot. Too hot to sleep comfortably.
She opened her eyes and came face to face with Eric’s chest.
Holy snorkers! She was practically in his sleeping bag.
She eased back, careful not to wake him.
Heat filled her cheeks. Sure, she’d been afraid last night and asked to share his side of the tent and have him hold her hands.
Sweet blooming daisies, what had she done that?
Logically, both were okay, but practically climbing inside his sleeping bag in her sleep. Holy tulip bulbs!
“This is so not good,” she whispered to herself.
“What’s not good?” Eric asked sleepily.
“Yikes.” She jerked further away and clutched her pounding heart. She sat up and glared down at him. “Don’t do that! You scared the ever-loving dickens out of me.”
He pulled his arm from beneath the covers and looked at his watch. “Wanda,” he sighed, “it’s four-fifteen in the morning. What does a guy have to do to get some sleep in this tent?”
“I’m sorry.” Embarrassed, she slid into her sleeping bag and turned her back to him. “I’ll go back to sleep. Sorry, I woke you. G’night.”
“Good night, wiggle worm.”
She squished her eyes shut and prayed for sleep. Too bad she was so much colder way over here by herself.
He shifted once and lay still. How could he relax that easily? Her heart was pounding, and his delicious scent lingered in her nose. This was not good.
Resolutely, she decided that if he could fall asleep, she could too. She focused on slowing her breathing and relaxing herself from the toes up.
Feminine laughter woke Wanda from a deep, delicious dream about coffee and cinnamon buns.
“Ugh,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb Eric.
“Rise and shine, princess sleepyhead. It’s time for coffee.”
She rolled over without opening her eyes. “Only if you brought me coffee,” she growled. Last night had been way too long for her liking. She could use another three hours of sleep.
“Actually, I did bring you coffee. I’m not sure how you like it, so I added cream and sugar.”
She bolted into a sitting position and thrust out her hands. “Gimme.”
He held up two recyclable cups and tsked. “Not unless you say please.”
“Oh, please. Pretty please with sugar on top. I’ll owe you forever.”
“No sugar on top, just a sprinkle of cinnamon.” He leaned down and handed her the cup. “Time to get moving. We’re on the lake for our first canoeing lesson in thirty minutes. We don’t want to be late.”
“How can you be so chipper?” She swallowed a full third of the coffee in four quick swallows. She needed the caffeine hit to wake up. The combination of sugar, cream, and spice made the coffee taste like a cinnamon roll. “Delicious.”
“Not too sweet?” He raised one eyebrow, and his tiny dimple popped out.
“There’s no such thing as too sweet. That’s like saying you can eat too much bacon, or too much steak.”
He regarded her with a quizzical half-smile. “You’re a total foodie, aren’t you?”
“Yup, and I’m starving. Would you mind?” She waved her cup toward the door, indicating that he should leave. “I need to change and get some food into me before I die of starvation.”
“I’ll wait outside on the picnic table.” Chuckling, he walked out, zipping the tent behind him.
He was still chuckling when she left the tent. He slapped a ball cap on her head. “You’re very mirthful this morning.”
His own cap shaded his eyes, giving him an intriguing, mysterious look. “I had a fabulous night’s sleep. The fresh air was amazing, and the sounds of nature….” He shrugged as if he didn’t have the words. “I barely minded your snoring at all.”
“I don’t snore. I told you that yesterday.”
He whipped out his phone and punched something in. “I present the evidence.” He turned the phone toward her, and a video of her sleeping played.
Holy cow! She was snoring.
“Ha. That’s barely snoring. It’s more like heavy breathing.” She tried to snatch the phone out of his hands to delete the video.
“Uh uh. Nope. This evidence stays with me. You never know when I’ll need a bit of blackmail evidence.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, I’m starving.”
“Come on, Eric, it isn’t that hard. The paddle goes in basically straight up and down.
Then you push and pull it straight up and out.
It travels above the water with the blade parallel and back into the water.
” Wanda tried not to get frustrated at how amazingly inept Eric was in a canoe.
Apparently, CEO training didn’t help with canoeing.
“I’m trying.”
“It isn’t hard.”
“What are you, some sort of canoe expert?” He pivoted to glare at her behind him. The boat rocked precariously.
“Stop turning around like that. Head only, or you’ll flip us over.
I have zero desire to get wet. The lake is freezing; the winter ice is barely gone.
” She sighed and pushed her oar through the water.
“Lean forward slightly when the paddle goes in and straighten up as you push it through the water.”
“Shouldn’t I be going from side to side?” he asked.
“That’s for when you’re alone. We can switch off now and again, so you don’t get sore muscles, but keep on your right side, and I’ll stay on the left.”
“How do we control where we’re going?”
“That’s the job of the person in the rear. I’ve got this.”
“You never answered my question. Are you some sort of canoe expert?”
“No, but I’ve done some canoeing and kayaking.” She didn’t mention her full experience.
He rotated to look at her, and the boat rocked wildly. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“And you’re going to flip us over. Face the front.” Slowly, with a lot of rocking, they made their way around a preset track marked by buoys. Another twenty yards, and they could head for shore and lunch.
“We did it!” He thrust his paddle into the air in celebration. The canoe shifted right, left, then back right.
Wanda squeaked in alarm.
Eric panicked and overcompensated for the tilt. The weight of his shoulders carried him over; the tip of his paddle caught the water and pulled them over.
Capsized!
She’d seen it coming and had taken a deep breath while they rocked. Newbies always flipped. Too bad flip training wasn’t until after lunch. She wondered whose idea it had been to schedule it after their first trip onto the water.
Bobbing to the surface of the ice-cold water, one hand still on her oar, the other reaching for her hat, she grabbed it, slapped it on, ignoring the water running into her eyes, and reached for the canoe.
Eric popped up, gasping and choking on the water he’d inhaled.
“Are you okay?”
He coughed a few times and nodded. “I will be,” he croaked and coughed some more.
He looked ridiculous; his dark hair was flattened to his head. His cheeks were red from coughing, and he bobbed up and down like a waterlogged cork. She couldn’t help herself. She laughed.
“Not funny.” He scowled.
“It absolutely is.” She stifled a laugh, and dog paddled to the middle of the upturned canoe. “Help me right this thing before it sinks.”
Two quick strokes brought him to the opposite side of the canoe. Thank heaven he could swim. “What now?”
“Grab the gunwale, the top edge, and push it up toward me. Your arms are longer, so you can push it further. It’ll get heavier as you flip, and it takes on water. Push it over. I’ll grab it and pull it down toward me. On three.”
They chanted in unison, “One, two, three!”
With a huge grunt and shove, he lifted the edge out of the water and pushed it toward her. She reached as high as she could.
And just missed as he dropped the heavy weight back down.
“Darn,” she muttered, floundering a bit in the water as a wave swamped her. “One more time. Try to get it another six inches. My arms aren’t as long as yours.”
Four attempts later, the canoe was upright. They hung on opposite edges, laughing, and catching their breath.
“We make a good team,” he panted out the words.
“We wouldn’t need to be a team if you hadn’t flipped us.” She followed her retort with a laugh.
“Good point.” He paused for a breath. “How do we get back in?”
“We don’t. Not this time. I don’t want to risk flipping it again. We’re close enough to shore that we can tow it. We’ll scoop out some of the water and swim back. It isn’t far.”
“I guess flipping practice should have come first.” He used his hat to scoop out some water. She did the same. It was slow, barely effective work.
After removing as much water as they could, they shifted to the bow, and one on each side, towing the canoe, slowly swam toward the shore.
“Oh. I’ve got this. I can touch bottom.” He began pulling both her and the boat at a much faster rate.
“Hold on, I need to get my footing.” She struggled to get her feet on the rocky bottom, even the grips of her water shoes didn’t help against the slippery stones.
“Why couldn’t we have sandy bottoms instead of rocks?
” As they got closer to the shore, the large rocks became smaller, and her feet slipped around less.
The instructor, Karen, waded out to meet them. “What happened?” She looked amused rather than upset.
“He happened.” Wanda jabbed her thumb toward Eric.
“Hey, no fair!” he grumbled.
“Totally fair,” she countered. “You need to learn to sit still; you nearly capsized us half a dozen times. You have to sit still.”
He stuck his tongue out at her and rolled his eyes.
“Are you both okay?” When they nodded, she continued, “You’re the last group back. Come on, it’s lunchtime. There are towels on the beach. You aren’t the only group to take a dunking.”
“I’m starving.”
Working in unison, they hauled the canoe onto the shore and secured it to a post. Wrapped in towels, they headed to the common room for lunch.