Whitewater Rendezvous

of learning to roll, maybe even of kayaking altogether. Chaz had seen it in her eyes that morning, and she wanted to help her get past her fear so she’d enjoy the trip ahead.

Standing next to the boat, one hand on the forward carrying toggle, she went briefl y back over the fundamentals: how Megan should hold the paddle, how she should distribute her weight. When she should begin the hip snap and sweep that would turn her upright again.

They were close together, concentrating intently on each other, all businesslike but breaths apart, when Chaz fi rst felt the sparks begin to fl y. It was entirely unexpected. One minute, she was assessing with cool detachment her client’s readiness to try the roll for the fi rst time.

Good grip, good hip snap, hands the right distance apart. She seemsnervous, but that’s normal. The next, without warning, she was suddenly fi xated on how soft and silky Megan’s hair looked. And how the sun caught the blond highlights. And how could she not have noticed before that Megan’s eyes were an uncommon shade of green. That vibrant,iridescent green of early spring. And she has the most incredibly longeyelashes.

Chaz realized she was staring. And Megan was staring back, a smirk creeping outward from the corner of her mouth. Oh, shit. Busted.

Don’t ogle the clients, idiot. She quickly averted her eyes and cleared her throat, trying not to blush.

“Ready?” she asked, letting go of the paddle and putting some distance between them, taking up position at the front of the kayak.

She glanced at Megan. The smirk was gone, replaced by a look of grim determination. Megan nodded, her eyes glued to Chaz. She put on her nose clip and gripped her paddle fi rmly, took a deep breath, leaned left, and fl ipped over.

After a few seconds, there was a big splash as one blade of Megan’s paddle clumsily broke the surface at an odd angle, then disappeared again. Chaz could see her fl ailing away under there, and her heart began to beat faster as the seconds ticked by. She kept a fi rm grip on the boat, ready to turn it back over, waiting anxiously for the sign of distress she had taught them all. Too long, she thought, a millisecond before she felt them through her fi ngertips and heard them vaguely, muted by the water—the three raps on the hull of the kayak that said I need help!

She fl ipped the boat over, and Megan came up sputtering, shaking the cold water from her hair and gasping for air. “Damn it!” she cursed.

• 59 •

KIM BALDWIN

“Everything is so turned around down there, I couldn’t get oriented. It all seemed backwards.”

“That was only your fi rst try. You’ll get it,” Chaz said in a soothing voice. She waded a step closer and looked into Megan’s eyes. “You can’t think about it too hard. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it is hard to orient yourself when you’re upside down. It’s better to memorize the action that you need to do and let your body—not your mind—take over.” She held out one hand, the other on the kayak so it wouldn’t drift.

“Let me have your paddle.”

Megan gave it to her with a confused expression.

Chaz oriented herself so the paddle was laid on the surface of the water between them, parallel to the boat. “I want you to go over again…leaning away from me. When you get upside down, reach up on this side for the paddle. I’ll be holding it in the right position, and I’ll help you get yourself back up, so you can see what it should feel like.”

Megan looked like she was about to object, but she nodded reluctantly, took several deep breaths, and then went over. It was only a moment before Chaz could see her hands just beneath the surface, groping for the shaft of the paddle. Chaz clamped her hand around Megan’s forearm and led it to the paddle. As Megan began to pull herself up, Chaz helped her, twisting the paddle and pulling up on it until the kayak had righted itself.

Megan sucked in air, her face pink from the cold, hair plastered to her head. “Shit, that’s cold.”

“That wasn’t bad at all,” Chaz said, trying not to stare at the rapid rise and fall of Megan’s chest, only a couple of feet away and at eye level at the moment. “Did it feel better that time?”

“No! I don’t know.” Megan’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe a little. ”

She blew out a breath. “This is really hard. ”

“You have pretty high expectations of yourself, don’t you?” There was no malice or rancor to Chaz’s question, that was obvious in her tone, but Megan visibly bristled anyway.

“I usually catch on to things pretty quickly,” she snapped. “And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with expecting the best from yourself.”

“I didn’t say there was. I just meant that I don’t think you can…or should expect to be able to do this on the fi rst try. It’s a very tough maneuver.”

• 60 •

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14