Her doubts were fading. Having survived a second day of paddling, Millie felt more accomplished and confident than she had in years.
So far, the river had been perfect: calm water winding through dense forest and overgrown brush sprinkled with wildflowers. Birds flitted and called while dragonflies looped and zoomed hunting mosquitoes. Confident mama ducks guided their nervous babies, fish jumped, and once two river otters hustled across the bow of her kayak, their black noses and tiny ears poking above the water.
Best of all, Millie was truly alone. The guidebook said the narrow river wasn't popular with paddlers. There were no farms, no cottages, and she had seen no one since putting in. For the first time in her life, she had only herself to rely on, and only herself to blame. Perfect.
With every breath of the tea-like scent of the river and piney decayed wood smell of the woods, Millie relaxed further. She loved the gentle sploosh as her paddle dipped into the water and the firm grip of the blades as she took each stroke.
She reached the camping spot with daylight to spare. There was a fire pit ringed by rocks and enough space for a couple of tents. Since the river offered few places to stop, a paddling group had hacked these camping areas out of the brush along the way, each spaced roughly one day's distance apart.
After she camped that night, there were two more camping spots to reach before she got to the coast. Then she would camp on the rocky shore and return. The river's gentle current would make returning easy. She would be more used to paddling by then.
Pulling her boat up onto shore, Millie realized how humid the day was. She unpacked her gear, after which, she decided, she would be naughty and go for a naked swim. She had always wanted to try that.
To her irritation, up at the river bend two colorful kayaks swung into view.
So much for being alone. Millie took a breath and squinted, trying to see who they were. A couple of guys on a fishing expedition? Rich kid adrenaline junkies action-camming a river adventure? Either might see a slightly pudgy woman in her thirties as easy prey.
Reality hit her with icy dread: she was alone on an isolated river. There was no cell service and nowhere to flee except further down river or into the dense brush.
She remembered the lines she had memorized from Cheryl Strayed's
Wild
, the inspiration for her trip:
Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves... so I chose to tell myself I was safe. I was strong. I was brave.
Millie chose to be brave, though she fingered the savage-looking dive knife sheathed at her waist.
The boats drew closer. Millie felt relief to see one was a woman—older, lean and tawny skinned. The other looked like a younger guy. Mother and son? They were in sea kayaks: long, sleek and expensive, with bright yellow decks and white hulls.
The woman waved. "Hi! Hope we didn't scare you. Bet you weren't expecting to see anyone on this river."
Millie smiled and called back. "Yeah. The guidebook said this run wasn't popular."
"Well, we paddled it around this time last year. Didn't see a soul the whole way to the coast and back. We were surprised to see a car parked back at the put-in."
The pair glided effortlessly to the river's edge. The woman grabbed a branch jutting over the water while her male companion coasted up to grip the edge of her cockpit and steady himself. They bobbed, looking up.
Millie now saw the woman was south Asian, with captivating narrow eyes and tawny skin that glowed with rose undertones. Faint laugh-lines creasing the corners of her eyes put her at maybe late thirties, though her medium-length black hair was shot with grey.
The guy looked mid-twenties and was gorgeous: dirty blond hair just touching his shoulders, soft green eyes, and a defined jaw with just the right amount of scruff. With his broad shoulders and muscled arms, he could have been a model for one of those sexy firemen calendars.
The woman peered behind Millie. "Are you here all by yourself?"
Millie hesitated, then chided herself. Even she could tell the pair were harmless.
"Yup. It's just me."
"You're brave," said the woman. "I wouldn't have the guts to come out here alone."
Millie felt herself swell at the compliment, even though during the first day of her adventure she had eyed the riverbanks, imagining people or animals ready to pounce. And that night in her tiny tent, exhausted as she was, she woke at every sound.
"So," said the woman, "we were hoping to settle here tonight, but I know how it is. If you want to be alone, we'll keep going to the next camping spot."
Millie noted the sun touching the tops of the trees behind her. "You'd never get there before dark," she said. "No, this is public land. There's room. And I think I'd like a little company, after all."
The woman thanked her, and the pair lifted themselves from their boats. Millie helped the woman pull her boat up the steep embankment.
"I'm Millie," she said, admiring the dagger-thin kayak. It made her orange 12-footer look like a bathtub toy.
"I'm Val," said the woman. "And that's Troy."
Millie turned to wave at Troy and gasped. He had doffed his life vest and, bare chested, was dragging his own kayak up the steep slope, well-defined muscles of his back and legs working in captivating rhythm.
He parked his boat beside Val's and turned.
"Nice to meet you," he said. "Sorry to intrude."
Other than sandals, he wore only clinging spandex rowing shorts, his prominent pectorals and trim build on full display. So was an impressive cock clearly outlined along one thigh. His tummy showed a hint of a six-pack. He wasn't super cut like a gym rat, but real-world muscular like a guy who did physical things.
He crouched and began pulling out gear from their boat's storage hatches.
Val gave Millie a gentle nudge. "The scenery's nice out here, isn't it?"
Millie met Val's smiling eyes and blushed.
"Y-yes. Very nice. Is he..."
Val grinned. "Troy's my boy toy. My own personal himbo. For as long as he'll put up with me, anyway."
She had not said it quietly. Mortified, Millie's eyes darted to Troy.
He looked back and nodded. "Yep, that's me. And I'm not tired of you yet, you crusty old fossil."
Val laughed. She strode over, mussed his hair, and helped unload their gear.
~~~~
Millie watched the pair setting up. They weren't roughing it: their tent was a palatial six-person dome, which meant it actually slept three. Into it they stuffed a queen-sized air mattress they covered with sheets and a blanket instead of sleeping bags.
They moved with smooth coordination, probably having set up hundreds of times, pausing to joke or playfully insult one another.
Val wore a clinging sports top and spandex shorts that showed off her figure. She was trim but not sinewy, the lines and curves of her refined and feminine. She reminded Millie of a teacher she once had—her very first girl crush.
