“You don’t have any single-person boats?” Tove asked, dread rising up in her like a tide.
The young man behind the rental counter whose chest bore a name tag that read Mike shook his head. “Nope. All reserved. We actually only have one of the bigger canoes available at all this morning.”
“Floating argument it is,” Patrick said, pulling out his wallet and handing Mike a credit card over her shoulder.
Tove whirled and glared at him. “Seriously?”
Patrick gave her an enigmatic smile, that scar on his lip tugging his mouth off-kilter and laid his hands on her shoulders while Mike ran the transaction behind her. “Hey. I have a sneaking suspicion I’d rather have an argument with you—floating or otherwise—than do anything with anyone else.”
And that was how, mere minutes later, Tove found herself in the stern of a canoe and pushing away from the dock. She’d offered the rear seat to him, but he just shook his head and said he’d leave the steering to her. Amazing. In her experience, men never willingly relinquished control. They proceeded across the lake dotted at a distance with kayaks and paddleboards and Tove let out a big sigh.
“Okay back there?” Patrick called over his shoulder.
“Perfect.”
“So, when do we start arguing?”
Tove laughed, the blue sky and the forested hills and Patrick’s easygoing temperament all blending in her to create a bubbling, contented feeling. “I guess as soon as you start telling me I’m doing everything wrong.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just something men have always done in these kinds of circumstances.”
He turned and squinted back at her. “I’m starting to think you have a shitty history with men in general, not just with your ex.”
She shrugged. “I work with a lot of very powerful men and they can be frankly insufferable.”
“So, why do you do it?”
“The money is excellent.”
“Fair enough.” He turned back and resumed paddling, his strokes strong and sure. Tove found herself gazing at the play of his back muscles underneath his shirt, the flex of his shoulders and arms.
This was an even better reason than control to be in the stern, she decided. A heron made its silent way across the sky and dipped out of sight in a distant inlet. The quiet seeped into her, punctuated only by the little splashes and drips from their paddles. They each switched sides, balancing each other’s strokes almost automatically and Tove marveled at how easy the whole thing was. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so comfortable with a man in her life.
Was it because getting along with her was literally his job right now? The thought was uncomfortable, but she pursued it, musing over their time together. She might be fooling herself, but she didn’t think so. The real “gig,” as he put it, was to be a visible presence to annoy Anthony. That didn’t explain private moments like him holding her last night or even his reassuring companionship now.
He was, she concluded, simply, a very nice person.
Patrick’s arms moved in a steady rhythm that was almost automatic. With his body in motion, his mind was free to roam over the coming hours. Anthony was sure to make a pestilent ass of himself at least one more time before the weekend was over and Patrick almost looked forward to annoying him again. The familiar dance of male posturing had an extra spice in circumstances like this. Anthony had chucked family life with a wonderful wife and daughter to chase a string of progressively younger women and what did he have to show for it?
Nothing, as far as Patrick could see.
He realized he was enjoying this emergence from retirement more than he’d ever enjoyed the job when it was what he did regularly. And there was a change to Tove’s demeanor that said she might be open to more than cuddling which he found deliciously intriguing.
“We only have about fifteen minutes left on the rental,” Tove said, her voice regretful. “We should probably turn around.”
Patrick’s lips pressed together, suppressing a smile. “I can afford the late fee.”
“It would stink for someone who’s waiting, though. Our friend Mike did say that watercraft were at a premium today.”
“True.” He smiled at her rectitude and paddled while Tove used her oar as a rudder to turn them back to the boathouse.
Tove’s voice floated from the rear of the canoe. “What are we going to do now? There’s still several hours until we have to be ready for the wedding.”
Patrick grinned to himself. “I have an idea.”
Tove didn’t know what to think as he took her hand and led her back to the hotel after dropping off the canoe. The exercise had felt wonderful and her muscles had a lovely sort of fatigue. Maybe he was going to suggest they take a nap, she thought as he tugged her back to their room and closed the door with a solid thunk.
“Here’s what I think,” he said, toeing off his shoes and looking her straight in the eye. “I think you need a certain kind of glow for this evening.”
“Glow?” Nerves fizzed in Tove’s stomach.
“Yes. A postcoital glow.”
Well, that was direct. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say I can make love to you,” he said, softly cupping her jaw in both of his hands.
That reckless feeling from earlier flooded through her. “Okay.”
“Okay? I can strip off your clothes and worship you until you come like a freight train?”
“That sounds…” Nice? Lovely? Amazing? A total novelty? “Yes.”
“Thank god.” And then he was kissing her, his lips insistent, his tongue demanding, his long, hard body pressing her against the wall. Here was the bossy man she’d been dreading, but oh god it wasn’t something to dread now. He just felt so good, his touch direct and arousing. His hands slipped from her face down her body, stripping her shirt off, then her shorts, then the rest of her clothes in quick, sure movements as he continued to kiss her. She reciprocated as best she could, tugging his shirt over his head and fumbling with the waistband of his shorts. He took over, making short work of his clothes and then they collided, his body pressing to hers in the most delicious way she’d ever experienced. Every nerve ending felt alive and she threaded her fingers through his hair, kissing him like his lips and tongue were necessary for life.
Then he was walking her backwards to the bed and she toppled onto it, looking up at his intent face with dazed, breathless anticipation. He looked down her body, took a deep breath, and groaned.
“You. Are. So. Beautiful.”
Tove didn’t have time to deflect or negate his statement before he dropped to his knees, pushed her thighs apart and pressed his mouth to her sex. She gasped at the sudden, intense thrill of it, the warm, wet pressure of his tongue against her most sensitive place compounded by his fingers slipping inside her and pumping steadily while his tongue worked against her, flicking her into a frenzy. Her swift orgasm took her by surprise, ripping through her with so much force that she heard a wail before she realized she was the source of it.