Christy Jeffries - A Family Under The Stars

“Sorry, Trouty,” she said as she tightened the clear string through the dead fish’s gills, causing its mouth to gulp open wider. But just then the raft dipped and Charlotte barely looked up in time to see a fallen tree trunk caught between two boulders.

“High side,” Alex shouted and Charlotte froze. What did that command mean? “Jump to the other side,” he yelled again.

But she must’ve been too slow because when she lifted up to move, a wave caused by the changing current slammed into them and knocked the boat sideways. Charlotte felt her left hip bounce on the rim before she toppled backward into the water.

Icy cold pins stung her skin, but the shock of the frigid river was nothing compared to the rolls of turbulent waves pounding into her and spinning her body around until she lost all orientation and all sense of control. Air. She needed air. Logically, she knew bubbles rose to the surface, but there were so many damn bubbles going every which direction. She clawed at the current, trying to find her way until she grew dizzy with exertion.

Her thrashing foot hit a rock with enough force to catapult her back up, and she barely had time to feel the cool air against her wet face when her life jacket was practically yanked over her head.

It took her several seconds to realize that Alex had just pulled her back into the raft and she was face to face with Trouty, whose eyes were probably less bulgy than hers were by this point.

“You okay?” Alex asked.

No, she wanted to shout, but her trembling lips wouldn’t form the word. She’d almost drowned, almost orphaned her daughters. The unbearable thoughts of what could have happened churned inside her head, robbing her of speech. She’d never experienced such an all-consuming panic, such an intense fear. Yet all Charlotte could do was cough in response.

“Just hold still down there while I ferry us through this gate.” Charlotte had no idea what he’d just said except for the hold still part. And if she could convince her rapidly heaving chest to do that, she’d be fine. Or so she told herself.

* * *

Alex had seen plenty of people tossed into the water and he’d seen plenty of people slow to recover from the shock. But he’d never seen anyone so shaken up after the experience. Of course, being the guide, he couldn’t afford to stop the craft in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation to calm the passenger down. He usually let the others in the boat soothe the poor soul. But it was just him and Charlotte out here and Alex wasn’t so heartless as to ignore someone still in emotional distress.

“Tell me how you know Kylie,” he said, knowing the best way to get her mind off the incident was to keep her talking about anything but what was scaring her. It was also the best way to get his mind off the way the thin, wet fabric of her pants clung to her long shapely legs.

“We competed in the Miss Northwest pageant together,” she replied, her voice sounding as dazed as her wide-eyed stare.

Heaven help him. A sorority girl and a pageant queen. Unfortunately, he’d been right and Charlotte Folsom was the exact type of woman he went out of his way to avoid. His already wet hands went clammy. So, maybe he hadn’t been completely honest earlier when he claimed nobody had ever called him judgmental. Some of his best friends had married women just like the one trying not to hyperventilate on the floor of his raft, and those guys often laughed at his semijests that they’d crossed over to the dark side. The pretty women he’d dated in college required too much maintenance. The city women he’d refused to date required a fast-paced lifestyle he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy—or Commodore’s worst enemy, since Alex usually got along with everyone. Charlotte was a combination of both—beautiful and urban—and probably used to the finer things in life. Actually, there was no probably about it. She was a lifestyle expert for a magazine called Fine Tastes. Enough said.

Not that there was anything wrong with those types. They just weren’t for him. Just like the feel of Charlotte’s firm hips and curvy rear end wasn’t for him. Or for his hands. He’d felt her pause when he’d first touched her, wanting only to assist her into the boat after he’d secured the fish. Yet he’d experienced a tremor through his own body that had nothing to do with the frigid water. Had she felt it, too? Was that why she’d paused?

“How long was I under?” she asked, interrupting his inappropriate thoughts.

“Maybe twenty seconds,” he said, then cleared his throat.

“That’s all? It felt like forever.” He’d fallen out of a few boats himself and understood the sensation. It was always an adrenaline dump when a person found out they were never in as much danger as they’d originally thought.

She propped herself up on her elbows. “How’d you catch up to me?”

“You didn’t really get very far. The undertow helped. So, your girls are with the Gregsons?”

“Yes, do you know them? The Gregsons, not my girls. Obviously, you wouldn’t know my girls since you’ve never met them. Oh, my gosh, my poor girls.” When the woman’s voice shook, Alex cursed himself for trying to talk about a pleasant subject. “What if I’d died and never saw them again?”

“Listen, Charlotte. Your children are fine. And you’re fine. Focusing on all the ‘what ifs’ is no more productive than bouncing around in those rapids back there.”

Charlotte lifted her head enough to peek over the side. “Are we past them, then?”

“Yes.”

“Do we have to go through more areas like that one before we stop at that clearing you talked about?”

“Only two more.”

She shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was just her subsiding panic or the wind that had picked up. Normally, they recommended wearing wetsuits this time of year because of the cool water temperatures. But because the more risky rapids were still miles away, he’d figured they could change into the uncomfortable things only if they decided to go that far down river.

He glanced down at her lips, which had gone from cotton candy pink to pale blue. Yet she didn’t utter a single complaint. Alex was a firm believer that if some tourist wanted a firsthand experience of the land, they should be ready for all the elements Mother Nature could dish out. But Charlotte Folsom was also just doing her job, and even if he didn’t appreciate the necessity of whatever a lifestyle expert was, he had to give the woman credit for her commitment and her work ethic.

He especially had to admire that her biggest concern had been for her children and he wondered if her daughters had any idea how lucky they were to have a mom who worried about abandoning them. Not everyone was as fortunate.

Besides, while he knew how to put up a good front and calm down a customer, Alex was pretty sure his heartbeat was still bouncing along at the same tempo as the rapids behind them. He talked a big game when it came to people being tough enough to survive the vast wilderness, but at the end of the day he alone was responsible for bringing this woman back to her daughters. It was a powerful responsibility and one he normally didn’t take lightly—which made him feel all the more like a jerk for those initial judgments he’d made about her lifestyle and her wardrobe. It made him feel even worse for the thoughts he’d been having all day about wanting to put his hands on her.

But of the two guilt-inducing feelings, Alex knew it was in his best interest to remain skeptical and aloof. He’d never had to struggle with breaking his well-established rule about hooking up with the female clientele because he’d never been as attracted to one as much as he was to Charlotte.

He let out a ragged breath and felt his shoulders pull forward.