Lee sighed. “We didn’t like the same things. She thought the things I liked were childish." He sounded as though his thoughts had carried him away. Wren wanted to bring him back.
“What kinds of things do you like?”
Lee laughed, and the sound tickled her middle. “What kinds of things do you think I like? Guess.”
A smile overtook her, and she blushed, glad now that he couldn’t see her face. “Well… you like kayaking.”
“Yep.”
She took a hand off the paddle and stroked Victor’s head. The golden puppy looked up at her with a sleepy gaze and nestled down against her thigh. “And dogs.”
“Yes.” His voice had warmed. Wren had no doubt that he not only liked dogs, but he loved Victor.
“And you like Joss Whedon, which is as awesome as it is unbelievable.”
Lee’s laughter broke over the water, startling the two closest egrets from a nearby tree.
“Does that mean I’m awesome?” he fished, still laughing.
“Oh… let’s see. You like Pitbull, which definitely does not make you awesome—“
Three more birds fled at the sound of his laughter. Wren pressed on.
“You like dancing,” she said, beginning to realize that her list of the things he liked wasn’t at all short. “And you like peach pies.”
Lee’s paddle came out of the water and was suddenly wedged to her left between her seat and the kayak’s hull. The small vessel pitched a little to the left and right, and Wren realized that Lee was shifting behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, bracing.
“I want to grab you and kiss you,” he said, sounding determined.
“What?! No!" She went rigid, half afraid he’d tip them before he could reach her and half afraid he’d succeed.
“Yes.”
The heat in his voice went right between her legs. If he could find a way to start kissing her in this impossibly tiny kayak, she’d be in trouble. “No. Feed me instead. I’m hungry,” she lied.
The kayak stilled. “You’re hungry?”
“Yes. It’s lunchtime." That part was true, anyway. It had to be past noon.
“Okay. I’ll fix that.” His voice had softened, and it touched her just as if he’d put his hands on her. “You keep us from bumping into a tree. That’s a great way to get a water moccasin in the boat.”
“Seriously?” Wren paddled on the right side to move them away from the tree they approached.
She could hear the rustling of a paper bag and the squeak of Lee’s cooler. “Yep. They like to rest on the cypress knees. Sometimes you can’t spot them coiled up until you’re practically on top of them.”
They were gliding through a kind of watery forest, trees on all sides, and Wren concentrated on keeping them a paddle’s length away from each trunk. They hadn’t gone very far when she felt Lee tap her on the shoulder.
“Here, reach back.”
She twisted in her seat, and her eyes took him in again. He looked perfectly at home against the backdrop of the cypress grove. From the dark wayward curl that swooped over his forehead to the cut of his biceps that seemed to stretch his shirtsleeves, Lee belonged to the outdoors. What had happened to the guy with the silk tie and the white coat? Had this wild man always waited underneath?
Smiling at her, he held out a bundle wrapped in a napkin, and Wren took it. When she turned back and peeled back the paper, she found a chicken breast, a few strawberries, and a small bunch of grapes.
“White meat okay?” he asked. “You can have dark if you’d rather.”
Wren smiled even as memories tugged at her. “Nah, I like white meat better. Mamaw Gigi fries chicken all the time. There’s a lot leftover these days, but we used to finish it in one night.” The words were out before she even knew she’d said them aloud. “Laurie and I would eat the white meat, and Mamaw and Papaw would take the dark.”