“Will do.”
They tossed any unnecessary items into the truck before Lance took off, and soon the four of them were all alone.
Ready for an adventure.
Ford had been rafting before, but he was hardly what would be considered a pro. And Guillermo and Jon had each been on a rafting trip, but never without a guide or an instructor. Unsurprisingly, Corrie knew a thing or two about rafting. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do? She went over a few techniques. Gave some other instructions. And then they packed up their raft and set out on the river.
She looked cute over there, sitting across from him on the raft in her khaki shorts and life jacket. Her legs had a smooth sheen to them. Ford could only imagine how soft they were and how comfy it would be to nestle between them. It was the most he’d ever seen of her skin, and he had a hard time looking away.
Did she have this effect on all men? He’d never heard her talk about a significant other. In fact, he had no clue if she was seeing anyone. If he had to guess, he’d say no. There were a few times yesterday that had seemed like flirting, but he couldn’t be sure. Ford was so out of practice ever since Addy left and all his focus had gone toward his mom’s health that he didn’t even remember how to flirt. He thought he’d felt something when he’d been holding her hand. A magnetism pulling them closer. If he’d had confirmation on her availability, he might have made a move. But if he’d been wrong . . . Well, knowing Corrie, it wouldn’t have been pretty. So he let the moment pass.
Like the last time.
Besides, talking had been nice. And not just talking to anybody, because it had been a long time since he’d done that, too. But specifically talking with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.
Or smiled when talking about his dad.
He had to admit, he’d woken up this morning without the seething anger typically present when he thought about his dad. Not that the anger wasn’t still there. But it wasn’t as intense as it had been these last few years. Maybe there was something to Corrie’s theory: allowing himself to miss his dad might help ease the resentment.
Ford just hoped that wasn’t the only theory of Corrie’s that would work out on this trip.
“We’re getting close to the first spot,” Corrie said, glancing at the map, which was folded into a ziplock bag to keep it from getting wet. “Let’s pull out there.”
They paddled to a low bank on the river and dragged the raft onto the land. The area surrounding them looked much the same as it did near camp—wooded and untouched by humans. Hopefully not completely untouched, though. It would be nice if Chimalli had spent some time in these parts.
Ford went over the plan one more time while they situated themselves at the boat, ditching the life jackets and changing shoes.
“All right . . . let’s split up. Dr. Mejía and I will take the ridge over there,” Ford said pointing to a steep incline about a hundred yards away. “You two look for a cave somewhere nearby.”
“What if it’s on the other side of the river?” Jon asked.
“It won’t be,” Corrie chimed in. “Mendoza said that whenever they feared they were in danger, they would run to the cave, meaning it has to be accessible from the same side of the river as the bowl.”
“How will we know if we find it?” Guillermo asked.
“You probably won’t,” she said, twisting her hair into one of those sexy messy buns that left random loose strands trickling down her neck. Strands that Ford desperately wanted to brush away from her beckoning skin. “It’s likely going to be well hidden, so you might not even notice it right away. Keep your eyes out for any formation that looks like there might be a cave inside.”
“Right. And if you find anything, mark it and we’ll meet here in an hour,” Ford said, grabbing a canteen and a small backpack of tools. “Use the walkies if there’s a problem.”
He tossed one of the walkie-talkies to Guillermo, and then the four of them split up.
Rough, jagged rocks littered the terrain from the river to the bowl. It was hard to imagine Chimalli and Yaretzi traversing this area every day for water. But Chimalli was a warrior, and warriors didn’t shy away from treacherousness. So Ford held out hope that this was the right spot.
And that he was right.
Corrie flitted about on the rocks, hopping from boulder to boulder with ease and precision like a woodland fairy. No . . . like an elegant gazelle. No wonder she’d escaped that jaguarundi—which was still impressive even if it was only the size of a large housecat.
“Better be careful up there,” he said from his position on a lower, much smaller set of rocks.
“I’ll be fine. These giant things aren’t going anywhere. It’s those smaller rocks you need to watch out for. That’s a broken ankle waiting to happen, and, no offense, Ford, but I can’t carry you.”
“Well, no offense, Corrie, but I don’t want to carry you, either,” he said, trying to be playful.
And botching it on one of the rocks.
“Shit!” he said as a rock rolled out from under him. He managed to catch himself in time to miss smacking his head against the hard stones, but not without also managing to scrape his forearm when breaking his fall.
“Are you okay?” she asked, rushing over.
But he put his hand up to stop her. He needed to spare some semblance of his dignity.
“Yeah.” He picked up a small stone, as if that single rock was to blame, and threw it before picking himself up and violently brushing off his clothes. At least he didn’t break anything. Just a couple of scrapes and a bruised ego.
“I told you, those little rocks—”
“Yeah, yeah. Got it. Size matters, ha ha ha.” He rolled his eyes, then twisted his arm to assess the damage. The top layer of skin was curled back, exposing the raw flesh underneath. It stung, but he wasn’t about to whine about it to Corrie. Give her more ammunition to tease him with.
“Come on. It’s easier if you walk up here,” she said, reaching her arm down for him.
God. How embarrassing.
But Ford didn’t particularly care to fall on his ass again, so he took her hand, using his legs to push himself onto the rock with her. Not expecting their combination of strengths, however, they stumbled, almost causing Corrie to tumble backward off the rock. Ford wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her toward him to stop the fall.
Which, except for the fact that the move had saved her, was a horrible idea. Because now, with her body pressed against his, he never wanted to let go. As he’d often suspected, her body was soft, molding into his as he held tight. Her breasts, which he’d fantasized about more times than he cared to admit, were wondrously full and pushed into his abdomen. But the most remarkable thing about her was her eyes, and the way they looked at him. The same look she’d given him all those years ago.
She gripped his shirt in her hands, twisting the fabric in tight fists, as her breathing kicked up a notch.
Should I? Dare I?