Then, after their first team paddle, onshore at her suggestion, he’d glanced around to offer her a ride home and found her halfway to Liza’s house. Not that it was a far jog from the harbor, but . . .
But he’d hoped to ask her out for another cup of coffee.
Instead, he’d caught up and walked her home, then sat on her front porch, telling her about Darek and the rebuilding of the resort.
She listened, her golden-brown eyes on his. As if she liked hearing him talk.
As if he might be interesting.
And then during practice, she’d started calling him Captain, my Captain. He had no doubt she meant it as a joke, but the moment she piped up, so did Emma, and finally the entire team started calling him by the nickname.
He could admit he liked it.
So clearly she’d started to mean more to him this week than he’d realized. And tonight at dinner—what was that wink? It nearly took his heart from his chest with one swift motion.
Raina had this serious, almost-bossy way about her, with the way she organized the buffet table. Then, the next moment, she turned quiet, a servant, like she had with her silent but thorough cleaning up after the campfire.
He couldn’t believe everyone left her there alone.
Or that she had thought he wasn’t serious about watching the sunset. He’d only mentioned it twice during practice.
His coffee had gone cold, the wind off the lake carrying a briskness that tempered the humidity of the night. He sat and wondered again why a girl might wish to be safe.
Whatever her reason, Deep Haven was the perfect place to hide while a person figured out their next move. He knew that better than anyone.
When the sliding door squealed open behind him, he turned to catch his father walking out, wearing jeans and a paint-stained sweatshirt, his fishing hat. He smiled at Casper. “Wanna see if the walleye are hungry?”
Casper dumped his coffee out on the grass and headed down the dock, following his father to the tied-up canoe.
He got in at the stern, let his father take the bow, and paddled them along the shore. He’d fished Evergreen Lake for so many years that he didn’t need directions across the smooth plane of water, glassy and gray in the fading darkness. He held the canoe steady as his dad landed his cast just outside the marshy area, where the walleye would be waking from their slumber.
His father said nothing as he reeled in. Cast again.
Casper lay back on the stern, arms under his head, feet on the gunwales, watching the sky turn to pewter.
“She’s lost, Casper.”
He frowned, glancing at his father.
John didn’t look at him as he continued. “She’s searching, and she looks at you like you could be her world. Be careful.”
Casper sat up. “Dad. Are you talking about Raina?”
His dad reeled in again, checked his jig, recast. “I like her. Your mom and I both do, but I see the way you look at her—”
He did? How did Casper look at her?
“I’m just saying, I think there is more to her than you know. She’s been hurt and I don’t want you to think you can fix her.” He gave a soft flash of a smile. “That’s Jesus’ job.”
Casper nodded. But maybe Jesus could use him to help.
The thought settled inside him, and he carried it with him all the way past his father’s early morning catch of three walleyes, into breakfast with his family, and to church, where he slipped into a pew beside his parents.
But not without noticing Raina, dressed in jeans and a yellow T-shirt, sitting next to her aunt Liza. Third row from the front, on the right-hand side.
I want to be safe.
The words dogged him through the praise and worship, through the sermon, and pressed a hand against his back after the service ended, pushing him through the crowd until he found her.
His heart gave a little jump when Raina’s eyes lit up. “Casper!”
“Hey.” His hands suddenly decided to turn sweaty. As if he had never asked a girl out before. Good grief, his voice had even turned tail on him.
He smiled until he could round it up, then said, “So . . . every Sunday night my family has a campfire . . . and . . . well, would you like to join us tonight?” He could have hung the moon on her smile, her nod. “I’ll pick you up around five, then.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Casper buried himself in the finishing work of cabin seven, hanging a door, installing baseboard in the bedroom, and measuring for the decking.
He came in at four, showered, changed into fresh jeans and a T-shirt, and headed into town on his motorcycle.
It wasn’t until he’d pulled up to Liza’s house that he remembered her words: But if you offer me a ride on your motorcycle, I’m outta here.
He saw them echoing on her face as she came out of the house. Maybe she’d had an accident on a motorcycle once. His stomach clenched as he swung his leg over his bike and walked up to her with an extra helmet.