Whitewater Rendezvous

“Me, too.”

That was all the time they had.

Five minutes later, Megan was comfortably ensconced in the helicopter. She gave a fi nal wave, and the chopper lifted off and headed south. As she watched Chaz’s silhouette get smaller and smaller, an ache began in her chest. It grew with each mile that separated them.

O

Chaz waited until the helicopter was out of sight and then got into her kayak and on the river, happy to have some time alone before she had to resume her guide duties. She felt unsettled, even mildly disoriented. Megan had turned her world upside down in the space of twenty-four hours, and Chaz couldn’t imagine how it would right itself again. She kept telling herself that it was all for the best, but there was no way that her separation from Megan after their night together felt like anything but what it was: a sudden cold and hollow place, where there had recently been an abundance of heat and belonging.

The rest of the group was fi nishing a late lunch when she reached their campsite two hours later. She briefed them all on Megan’s departure and caught up with how they had fared in the storm; then they all set off in their kayaks to resume their trip downriver.

They reached their next stop about seven that evening and fell into the now-familiar routine of setting up tents and getting dinner started.

Sally knew her well enough that she sensed something was different, but she gave Chaz some space to think things out on her own. She asked only if Chaz was all right and offered a shoulder if she needed someone to talk to.

Justine was not so easily deterred. At the fi rst opportunity to talk to Chaz alone—which happened to be while Chaz was doing dishes—she corralled her and began peppering her with questions about her night with Megan. “So, Chaz…I know this is going to sound like I’m butting in, but I’m Megan’s best friend so I think I’m entitled.” That out of the way, she found a fl at rock to sit on and made herself comfortable. “So did you two fi nally admit that you have a thing for each other before she left?”

Chaz felt her whole face get hot as images of her and Megan in various positions of lovemaking fl ashed into her mind. “Uh…” she

• 203 •

KIM BALDWIN

stammered. But she couldn’t suppress a silly grin at the memory.

“Great!” Justine said. “So I see it went very well, in fact, from the smile on your face and that nice shade of crimson you’re sporting.”

“Well, we did hit it off,” Chaz managed fi nally. Despite the third degree, Chaz developed an immediate respect for Justine. She was direct, and outspoken, and she obviously had nothing but Megan’s welfare uppermost in her mind. Chaz felt okay about talking to her. “I really don’t…get involved with clients generally, but—”

“I’m glad you made an exception in this case,” Justine said. “Are you two planning to keep in touch, I hope?”

“We exchanged addresses and e-mails, phone numbers.” Chaz fi nished the dishes and sat down beside Justine. She missed Megan already far more than she even imagined she would. Here was her best friend—a potential font of information about the woman who had captured her attention, and she apparently wanted to talk about Megan so Chaz was certainly going to let her. “So was it that obvious that we’re attracted to each other?”

“Maybe not to everyone. But Megan confi des in me more than most.”

“You’re lucky, then,” Chaz said.

“Yes. She’s not close to a lot of people. Doesn’t volunteer much and doesn’t trust easily.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question that I’m curious about? You don’t have to answer.”

“Shoot.”

“How did this Royal Ice Bitch thing come to be?”

Justine laughed. “Well, Megan does have an intensity about her when she’s in the newsroom during a big story…calling the shots and directing coverage. No nonsense, for sure. But she got the nickname from a bunch of malcontents she inherited.”

“Inherited?”

“There’s a running joke at WNC that you have to do something notoriously bad to get fi red. The company is so afraid of lawsuits—for age discrimination or whatever—that they make it almost impossible to just fi re someone because they do a half-assed job. You pretty much have to be a complete and certifi able psycho, and even then you get two warnings before they let you go.” Justine laughed. “Well, before Megan took over, the newsroom ran totally on seniority. The best shifts

• 204 •

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