Carson’s fingers itched to use the camera. This was her area of expertise, after all. Something she could do to help. “Why don’t you let me take the pictures?” she begged. “Really, I know the camera. At least then I can feel like I’m doing something to help.”

“Sorry. Can’t,” Blake replied, returning to the rear of the boat. He was all business now, not allowing argument. “Insurance won’t let anyone but us handle the equipment. It’s expensive. And it’s not as easy as it looks to get the shot fast enough.” He waved his hand, calling her closer to the center podium. “But you can help.”

Holding on to the rope, she carefully made her way across the rocking boat to his side at the wheel.

“I can always use another scout. Try to keep your gaze on the distance,” he instructed. Blake kept one hand on the wheel and pointed out with the other. “Let your gaze scan in a sweeping motion. You’ll be able to catch any movement, even out of your peripheral vision. Then you can zero in.” He turned to look at her face. Their gazes locked; then he smiled.

Another boat zoomed by, creating a wide wake that rocked the Zodiac. She lost her footing and Blake’s arm dropped to grab her around the waist, steadying her.

“Wouldn’t want to lose you,” he said.

She brushed the hair from her face and smiled self-consciously, hating that the man made her feel like a shy teenager. She was in new territory here and wasn’t sure she liked not being in control.

Blake released her abruptly and reached for the gearshift. “Hold on.”

Carson grabbed the platform as he pushed the engines and the Zodiac took off again across the water. She’d given up wearing her hat and let her hair stream behind her. For the next few hours they traveled up and down the different rivers. It was a mystery to her how Blake knew where he was going; so much of it looked the same to her. They passed countless miles of muddy banks and acres of dark green cordgrass. From time to time they passed a cluster of houses, some of them modest campgrounds, others stunning homes with docks. Most of the time, however, it was like they were in The African Queen, journeying alone in the jungle, miles from civilization.

She saw small groups of female dolphins that included mothers and their young. The young calves stayed close, dorsal fins and glistening gray backs rising and falling together in the water as in a choreographed ballet. One curious youngster swam closer to the boat, its bright eyes gleaming with curiosity. Carson leaned over the side of the Zodiac, watching with delight and calling to it.

“Sweet baby,” she crooned.

“Don’t encourage him,” Blake called out with a shake of his head. A moment later the mother swam up to steer her calf away, making loud clicking noises that sounded to Carson like she was scolding.

Whenever a dolphin was spotted, Blake killed the engines and grabbed for the camera. Carson eventually got better at sighting the dolphins as they rose and dipped in the water. To her chagrin, she only caught a fraction of the dolphins that Blake did, but when she spotted one, she felt a rush of adrenaline and shouted out the location.

Other times, however, she sat with the roar of the engines in her ears and watched Blake. His boyish enthusiasm was beguiling. More intriguing, however, was that his fervor was for something other than himself. This was in sharp contrast to so many of the men she’d dated before. Wealth, position, power—none of those things mattered to Blake, she realized. He wasn’t looking at what he was going to get—more money, a new car, a vacation, or some fancy bottle of wine. She watched him, his hands on the wheel of the boat as he scanned the sea. Blake was looking at what he could give back.

And that spoke to Carson. Because of Delphine, she could understand what that passion felt like. She put her hand in the water and let it drag in the wake. She felt its coolness and felt connected to this water and everything in it. She gazed up into the infinite sky and felt connected to the birds of the air, the clouds, the grass that surrounded her, and creatures of the sea. She felt this in her deepest nature. She was part of something so much bigger than herself. And this realization simultaneously made her feel more vulnerable and stronger than she ever had before.

As she bounced along the waterway in the boat, her face in the sunshine and the wind in her hair, Carson looked out at the natural beauty that surrounded her and it dawned on her why Blake had wanted her to see this. He was offering her a window to look and really see. Not through a lens, but with all of her senses. To appreciate the significance of what was wild.

And in doing so, he was sharing with her a vital part of who he was.

A short while later Blake slowed the engines and brought the Zodiac close to a very small beach, larger than many of the sandy spits they’d passed that morning. The engines growled low as he brought them near, then suddenly all went silent. The Zodiac rocked while Blake hurried with the speed of experience to drop anchor. Carson listened to the sound of the gentle lapping of water against the boat and the creaking of the rope she clung to that ran along its sides.

“Ready for some lunch?” he asked her, offering his hand.

“Starving,” she replied, taking it.

“Do you mind getting wet, or do you need me to carry you ashore?”

Carson smirked and for a moment thought she’d have him carry her, just because she could. The flat bottom of the Zodiac allowed Blake to get them close to shore. They only had to wade through knee-high water to get to the beach. After all the kite surfing, she’d have been too embarrassed not to wade in this short distance herself.

“I think I can manage it,” she said with sarcasm.

“Careful of the mud,” he cautioned her. “It can be slippery. And deep. I knew a guy who got stuck up to his knees in that slime. Had to lie on his back to pull his legs free.”

Carson, swinging her leg over the edge of the boat, paused. “Are you trying to scare me? So you can carry me?”

“Just being a gentleman,” Blake replied. “And did I mention the critters?”

Carson stiffened and drew her leg a bit farther back into the boat. “Critters?”

“Oh, sure,” he said in a grand manner. “All kinds of insects call this mud home. And snails and fiddler crabs, of course.” He shook his head. “Yep. Countless crabs. What do you think all those birds are feeding on?”

Carson looked down at the mud, squinting as she tried to see if anything was moving under the water.