Adirondack Attack. Jenna Kernan
surprise. “Well, hey there. Didn’t see another paddler.”
He thumbed over his shoulder. “Came overland. The trail from O-K Slip Road.”
She passed him going in the opposite direction. “Well, that’s no fun.”
He stepped off the trail to let them pass and continued, landing on his backside with a jolt of pain more than once.
“No fun is right,” he muttered.
At the bank of the river, he saw the three remaining adult campers and their leader. He’d recognize those legs anywhere. Firm tanned legs pushing off the gray rock as she climbed, leaving wet footprints from her water shoes as she easily scaled the boulder that was shaped like the fin of a shark, using a climbing rope. It was his wife.
On the pinnacle of the sloping boulder she waited for a young woman in a pink bathing suit, which was an unfortunate match to her ruddy skin tone, to jump off and then followed behind, giving a howl of delight that made Dalton frown. He’d never heard her make such a sound of pure exhilaration.
The single male waded out of the water and came up short at the sight of him. Dalton judged the man to be early twenties and carrying extra pounds around his middle.
“Hiya,” he said.
Dalton nodded and the young man crept past him on the uneven bank. The woman in pink swam and then waded after the man, followed by a lanky female with wet hair so short it stood up like a hedgehog’s spines. Erin emerged from her underwater swim at the base of the rock, scaling the slope to retrieve her climbing rope before making a final leap with the coiled rope over one shoulder.
Dalton smiled as the pinkish woman, her face red from exertion, reached the muddy shore, her cheeks puffing out with each breath.
“Where’d you...come...from?” she wheezed.
“Your camp.”
She gave him a skeptical look and paused, one hand on her knee.
“You don’t look like an adventure camper.”
“No?” He grinned. “What do I look like?”
She cocked her head and her eyes narrowed. “A soldier.”
That surprised him as he had once been just that. But he’d left Special Forces at Erin’s request.
“Why’s that?”
She pointed at the hunting knife that he’d strapped to his belt and then to his boots, military issue and which still fit. Finally, she lifted her finger to the tattoos staining his left forearm from wrist to elbow. The overall pattern spoke of lost comrades, blood, war dead and the corps.
“You sure you’re with us?”
“Erin’s my wife.”
Her entire demeanor changed. Her face brightened and the look of suspicion vanished.
“Oh, hi! I’m Alice. Your wife, she’s wonderful. So encouraging and warm.” Her smile faltered. “You’re her husband?”
He didn’t like the incredulity in her voice.
“Yeah.” For now. His stomach gave a twist that had nothing to do with healing tissue.
“Hmm. Can’t see it.”
“Why?”
“She’s fun and you’re, well, you seem kinda...serious, you know?”
His brows sank deeper over his eyes. He was fun.
The woman glanced back down the trail where all but one hiker had vanished. “She didn’t mention you.”
“Feel free to ask her.”
Alice waved. “See you at camp.”
She moved past him and continued up the trail with her comrade on her heels. This other woman said nothing, just gave him a sullen look and glanced away the minute they made eye contact.
Erin reached the spot where she changed from swimming in the calm stretch to wading. He waited beside the kayaks.
Her tank top clung to her skin, and he could see the two-piece suit she wore beneath, along with much of her toned, athletic build. Her wet light brown hair, cut bluntly at her jawline, had lost its natural wave in the water. Her whiskey-brown eyes sparkled above her full mouth, now stretched wide in a playful grin. He took a moment to admire the view of his wife, wet and smiling.
He had the sudden impulse to hide before she spotted him.
Dalton didn’t know how Erin knew he was there, but she straightened, giving him a moment to study her standing alert and relaxed as if listening to the birds that flitted across the water. Then she turned and her eyes shifted to her husband. The set of her jaw told him that she was not pleased.
Dalton was six-three and weighed 245 pounds, but Erin’s scowl made him feel about two feet tall.
“Surprise?” he said, stretching his arms out from his sides in a ta-da posture.
Her gaze flicked to his middle, where she knew he still wore a bandage though the stitches were out now. She didn’t manage to keep from uttering a profanity. He knew this because he read it on her lips. The Lord’s name...in vain. Definitely. Then she tucked in her chin and started marching toward him in a way that would have made a lesser man run. Instead, he slid his hands into the rear pockets of his cargo pants and forced a smile that felt as awkward as a middle school slow dance.
“Dalton, if that’s you, you had better run.”
He did, running toward her, meeting her as she reached the bank.
He stopped before her, then reached, preparing to swing her in a circle, as he did after separations of more than a day.
She pressed her palm against the center of his chest and extended her arm, blocking him. “Don’t you dare lift me. You shouldn’t be lifting anything.”
He was suddenly glad he’d dumped his pack.
She hoisted the coiled rope farther up on her shoulder and aimed her extended finger at him. Her scowl deepened and her gaze shot back to him. “How long have you been tracking me?”
“Just today. I signed up for your group.”
Her fists went to her hips. “So I couldn’t send you home, right?”
Her two female adults had not climbed up to camp, opting to linger and watch the awkward reunion. Dalton glared, but they held their position, their heads swiveling from her to him as they awaited his reply, reminding him of spectators at a tennis match. Dalton pinned his eyes on his wife, an opponent, wishing they were alone but knowing that the women bearing witness might just play in his favor. Erin’s tone was icy, but she had not raised it...yet.
He grinned, leaned in for a kiss and caught only her cheek as she stepped back, scowling.
“I can’t believe this,” she muttered, pushing past him and heading up the trail. Her campers scuttled ahead of them and out of sight.
He trotted after her, ignoring the tug of pain that accompanied each stride.
“Did you bring a kayak?” she asked.
“No.”
“You planning on swimming the rapids tomorrow?”
“I thought you’d be happy.”
She kept walking, leaning against the slope. Her calf muscles were tight, and he pictured those ankles locked about his lower back. It had been too long.
“I’m taking a vacation. Just like you wanted,” he added.
She spun and stormed a few steps away, and then she rounded on him.
“You didn’t hear a word I said back there.” She pointed toward a tree that he assumed was in the direction of Yonkers, New York, and their pretty