the hard part?”
“Standing?” she asked doubtfully. The board had wobbled quite a bit, even when she’d gone to her knees on it.
“Yeah. You can do it,” he said. He put his hands flat down on the board and pushed himself up in one movement, his grace singular to witness given his tall, muscular body.
“You can’t expect me to do that!” she called to him when he began to paddle in the stand-up position.
“You can do it,” he repeated, his steadfastness amazing her a little.
Maybe he knew she was self-conscious, because he kept his back to her as he paddled. She envied his smooth glide across the water. She eyed the board speculatively.
If he can do it, I can.
Grinning like a kid, she placed her hands on the board. Her eyes went wide when she tried to shift her feet under her, and the board dipped and rocked alarmingly in the water. Crap. Jacob had made it look so easy. She tried to hoist herself up again, but the board teetered, and then heaved. The next thing she knew, she was going face-first into the cold water.
When she surfaced, sputtering and grasping for her board, she saw him standing above her in godlike supremacy, balancing effortlessly even with all the rough chop she’d made in the water. Again, she saw that small, boyish smile on his lips.
“Show-off,” she muttered, casting him a condemning glare before she hauled her upper body onto the board.
“Everybody falls off the first time,” he said, using his paddle backward in the water to come to a standstill next to her.
“You could have told me that,” she accused, wiping her wet hair out of her eyes. She hauled a leg up onto the board, pausing to gasp for air. Her breasts had nearly busted loose at that point, but she couldn’t have cared less. She’d seen that sparkle of humor in Jacob’s eyes . . . the glitter of a dare.
“There it is,” he said very softly.
“There’s
what
?”
“The look,” he said, but she was too busy concentrating on proving she could get up on that damn board to pay much attention to his remarks. A minute later, she succeeded, coming to a very shaky standing position on the quivering board.
“There you go. Bend your knees some. Now use the paddle. It’ll help you find your balance.”
Half a minute later, she gave a victorious laugh as she glided next to him across the calm water. It was a lovely rush.
“See, I told you that you could do it,” he said once they’d turned and headed back toward shore.
“I love it,” she said, grinning. A lake breeze whipped past them. She shivered. Lake Tahoe was very deep, and its water remained chilly year-round. Jacob maneuvered his board up next to hers. He reached and touched her shoulder, joining them, his hand feeling warm on her cool skin. They bobbed next to each other and came to a relative standstill.
“You’re cold?” he murmured.
“A little.”
“Throw your paddle in the water,” he directed calmly.
“What? Why?”
“It’ll float to shore. Just do it,” he said, his expression serious as he kept them steady.
What the hell?
She did what he said, despite her doubt, tossing her paddle into the sun-dappled water.
Jacob’s hand lowered to her elbow. “Now . . . transfer over onto my board.”
“Are you
nuts
?” she exclaimed, because he was applying pressure on her elbow, urging her to move her feet onto his board, and her board was starting to shake beneath her. There was no way they could keep their balance. “We’re going to fall.”
“No we won’t. I hate going in when I don’t intend to, so believe me when I say it’ll work. Do it quickly,” he insisted. “I can keep my board steady, but you can’t hesitate. One foot on my board, find your balance, then shift your weight all at once. You can do it,” he said very quietly.
Like in all things, she found herself responding wholesale to the sound of his voice. She put her right foot on his board cautiously, finding a very precarious balance.
“Now,” he
The 12 NAs of Christmas, Chelsea M. Cameron