“Halifax,” she said. “So, no. I’m basically a fish out of water. A hot fish.”
The thunder grumbled overhead, closer now. Cameron should have felt anxious. Instead, she felt something loosening in her chest. The heat that usually made her irritable suddenly felt like alignment. Like the world had finally caught up to her.
She felt exactly the right temperature.
“You’re soaking,” he said.
“So, Cameron from Halifax,” Leo said, splashing her lightly. “Why do you run so hot?”
Leo laughed. “Lucky for you, I know where the water’s still cold.”
An hour later, Cameron was knee-deep in the Bow River, where glacial melt kept the current shockingly frigid despite the lingering heat. Leo had led them to a spot just past the canoe docks, where the trees overhung the water like green curtains. Priya had conveniently wandered off to “take photos.” cameron canada hot
Cameron turned. The man was lean, sunburned across the nose, with a canvas backpack and a smile that suggested he knew exactly where the best hidden swimming holes were. His name tag said River Guide: Leo .
But here she was, three months later, stepping off a shuttle into a wall of mountain air so thick with pine and heat that it felt like breathing soup. The Rockies rose around her, ancient and indifferent, while the town of Banff simmered in a record-breaking heatwave. Thirty-seven degrees. In the mountains. Even the elk looked miserable.
“I prefer ‘unconventional thermal companion,’” Leo replied, and then he kissed her—cool lips, warm hands, and the smell of river stone and sunscreen. “Halifax,” she said
Leo tilted his head. “Or maybe you’re just tuned to a different frequency. Some people are. They feel everything more—the heat, the cold, the way the light changes before a storm.”
“You’re weird,” she said, but she was smiling.
“You from around here?” he asked, looking directly at Cameron. A hot fish