my room, perfectly content. He was used to having a day or two off from walking every now and again, but it was as if Chopper would die of restlessness if he didn’t burn off some energy.
So I clipped on his leash and walked him about a mile along the bay, all the way to the kayak launch dock. Dusk was fast approaching and the sun was beginning to set, reflecting like a halo off the water. I was tired and hot, and the idea of taking off my shoes and wading in the shallow end seemed pretty enticing.
As Chopper tugged his leash past a row of colorful kayaks, I threw off my sneakers and trudged closer to the edge. Chopper stuck his nose in the water and lapped his tongue at the cool liquid. Some dogs were terrified of water, but I was going to bet that if I had a stick to throw, Chopper would charge right after it. Hell, it might tire him out further.
But then he’d be all wet and we’d be a complete mess. Besides, what if I was wrong? What if he couldn’t swim? I sank my toes in the steady flow as it ebbed near the shore and felt instant relief. I bent at the waist, cupped my hands to scoop up some water, and then rubbed it along my neck.
When I straightened my gaze landed on a pair of all-too-familiar toned legs. Those toned legs were standing on top of a board and the owner—Jude York—had a long paddle and was propelling himself to shore. Behind him on the board were a cooler and a pole.
Jude fished from a paddleboard? This guy never ceased to amaze me.
But I knew I needed to hightail it out of there before he floated closer to the coastline. He hadn’t spotted us yet and I didn’t want him to think we had followed him out here.
“Let’s go,” I muttered so as to not call any attention to myself. Of course, Chopper was reluctant to leave and began twisting around my legs and whining.
I knew the moment he spotted Jude because he lunged into the water, dragging me forward with him. I fell on my knees in the shallow end and scratched the shit out of my shin along the rocks on the bottom of the lake. Damn, that stung. I could already tell I was bleeding. I had no control over the leash so before it cut the blood supply to my wrist or broke it cleanly in half, I let it go. I’d just swim out to get Chopper if I had to.
But then Jude jumped off his board to save the day again. He grabbed hold of Chopper’s leash and knelt down in the water while simultaneously using that whistle sound to calm his ass down. The dog became perfectly still as if awaiting his next command.
Jude’s eyes met mine and his brow furrowed. At first I thought it was in frustration but as I gingerly pushed off of my knees to stand up, I realized that he could tell that I’d been injured. And it wasn’t just my shin, it was my fucking back. I think the damn dog had thrown it out of alignment.
Jude made quick work of pulling his board into shore, making sure it was secured on the rocks, and then headed toward me. He was still holding Chopper’s leash and I straightened to my full height with some effort because goddamn it, I wasn’t some wuss unable to stand on my own two feet.
I looked down and saw my shin was bleeding, a trickle of blood making a path down my leg. Big fucking deal. The water stung so I carefully treaded toward land. My cheeks burned from embarrassment and I tried not to limp. Basically, my back was like my Achilles’ heel. Way to keep it macho and classy.
I felt Jude’s warmth and Chopper’s nose nudging the back of my knee as if to apologize, so I looked over my shoulder. “It’s like you’re a fucking homing device for this mutt or something. Goddamn going to kill me one day.”
A smirk pulled at Jude’s lip as I bent down to snatch my shoes from the dirt. I intended on grabbing the leash from him and sending him on his way, when I felt the searing heat of his fingers on my arm.
I held in my gasp because I had imagined this scenario so many times in my head. But never in a million years would I have