“You really enjoy this?” Dimitra asked as the bobbed in the eight-foot boat in the middle of freaking nowhere. “Aren’t you worried a gust of wind will tip you and you’ll drown.”
“If I didn’t have our snacks in this backpack or the risk of losing devices ,” he motioned to the bag against the back of her chair near where his feet were resting, “I would tip you right here and show you how easy it is to get back in the kayak. Yesterday I swam for a good hour beside the boat.”
“Aren’t you afraid of being shark bait?”
“No. I am not shark food. I make other people into shark food.” His laugh was dark and menacing and it grew louder as she looked over her shoulder and scowled at him. “Remember the time your dad and I took you out to the marina?”
She gave a shake of her head, “I was fourteen.”
