7. Emma
7
Emma
R afting is surprisingly fun, but the boarding process leaves something to be desired.
Between my embarrassing fall and the horrifying realization that my boob landed straight in my boss’s hand, I seriously contemplated wading into the river and letting the rapids carry me away. Maybe the river would spit me out in some weird little desert town where I could live out my days pouring coffee and slinging pie at the local diner. Because one thing is certain: I need a new job. Now more than ever. Even if I wasn’t already planning to quit True North, I definitely can’t stay now that Garrett is intimately familiar with the size and density of my right breast.
The seating configuration on the raft also leaves something to be desired. Not even the beautiful scenery or Doris’s in-depth explanation of the correct way to make spaghetti can save me from the occasional wayward glance in Garrett’s direction. Whenever our eyes clash, it’s like he is touching my boob all over again. I feel my cheeks turning bright red. Well, brighter red. The sun is also doing its part to keep me looking like a freshly boiled lobster. Thank god for that. Can’t have Garrett thinking that I’m anything but repulsed by the idea of his touch.
Because I am.
Repulsed, that is.
Especially when I realize that it’s mid-June already and Garrett North is the first person all year that’s gotten to second base with me.
Dating hasn’t been my thing lately. I swore off dating apps after a guy messaged me insinuating that they had a thing for chubby chicks as if he was somehow doing me a favor. Another guy vividly described his fetish for something called ‘cake sitting.’ Talk about having years of therapy go right out the window. But the nail in the coffin of my online dating life was the man who jumped straight from ‘hello’ to ‘I would like you to wear a Victorian gown while sitting atop a golden egg.’ I’m not sure what that means, but I’m still having nightmares about it.
I don’t anticipate my romantic situation changing any time soon. Working for Garrett has kept me busy, and job hunting will keep me even busier when we get back. Truthfully, I’m not really looking for a relationship anyway. It will happen when it happens. In the meantime, I sure as hell won’t be sitting on any cakes – or golden eggs, for that matter.
“This is where we’ll be camping tonight, folks,” our guide announces a few hours later as he guides the raft toward the riverbank.
The sun is just starting to disappear behind the rim of the canyon, creating an orange glow on the rock walls around us. Blue canvas chairs are already arranged in a circle near a table of food, and a line of matching tents sits further back from the river.
When it’s my turn to deboard the raft, I glance over at Garrett, who is staring off at a rock formation like there might be a quiz on it later. Clearly, he isn’t looking for a repeat performance of our earlier encounter.
A wave of irritation rushes through me. Sure, the whole thing was awkward for both of us, but I can’t help but wonder if Garrett thinks that he’s the injured party here. Like accidentally copping a feel was somehow worse for him than it was for me. Like I doomed him with the knowledge of how a real breast feels after years of handling the fake variety.
I’ve never seen any of the women that Garrett dates, but I see the way women look at him around the office. He could have any woman he wanted. I assume he spends his evenings and weekends with a rotating roster of supermodels, just like his brother does. Ethan North has never kept his womanizing ways a secret, but Garrett is a very private person. He’s probably just more discreet about his one-night stands.
After deboarding the raft, the whole group gathers around for dinner. A man in an apron loads our plates with freshly grilled chicken and a salad before we take our places in the chairs. Unsurprisingly, Garrett sits as far away from me as possible, and we both basically pretend that the other person is invisible.
Everyone besides Garrett is in a good mood, chatting about the day’s travels.
Then there’s Math Teacher Carl. I don’t know why, but he’s made it pretty clear that he’s obsessed with Garrett. He’s either crushing pretty hard on my boss or imagines himself and Garrett to be kindred spirits. Garrett would disagree, and for once, I have to side with Garrett.
Carl is the antithesis of my boss. Despite all of Garrett’s flaws (which are so numerous that Math Teacher Carl probably can’t even count them all), he is calm, measured, and stoic. Carl, on the other hand, never stops talking and knows as much about stoicism as a well-caffeinated chihuahua. He’s offended nearly everyone in our group at some point today, including the guide. And every time that Garrett doesn’t return his bizarre attention, Carl gets even more aggressive about it.
“So, Benny,” Carl practically shouts over the group, interrupting a woman in the process. “How’d you get into the dog training business?”
“I’ve always liked dogs,” Garrett says with all the conviction of a certain Disney villain with a fondness for exotic fur coats.
“You got any tips for keeping this one in line?” Carl says with a hearty laugh as he hurls a thumb in his wife’s direction.
The group goes silent. No one talks. No one chews. No one moves. Even Carl seems to know that he just crossed a line, judging by the way the laughter dies on his lips.
Garrett frowns as he glares at the man in the floppy hat. “No, but I have the number for a great divorce lawyer that I’d be happy to give her,” he says without a hint of amusement.
That’s…odd. Was Garrett married before? He’s never mentioned a wife, or an ex-wife for that matter. Not that we ever talk about our personal lives.
I file the thought away to be revisited later. Right now, all I can do is watch in silent horror as Carl’s wife stands up, looks at Garrett and says, “I might take you up on that.”
When she walks off, Carl is hot on her heels. He starts groveling before they’re even out of earshot. After that, there’s no easy way to return to normal conversation. Everyone finishes eating quickly and then splinters off to form their own little groups.
“Well, I’m tuckered out from all that excitement today,” Doris announces as she plants her hands on her thighs and pushes up onto her feet. Then she winks at me for some reason before saying, “I’m going to head to bed and let you two kids have some time to yourselves.”
Um, okay. I’d rather not, Doris.
The last thing that either of us needs after the boob incident this afternoon is time to ourselves…or someone suggestively winking over how we might choose to spend that time.
“Good night,” I tell her, fighting the urge to beg her to stay.
Garrett mumbles a ‘good night’ at the same time.
We both sit there, too far apart for casual conversation but too close together for comfort. We stare off in opposite directions, clinging to the last shreds of light that allow us to pretend that we’re captivated by something in the distance.
Just when I’m wondering if I should call it an early night too, even though I’m not tired, Garrett stands up and says, “We should talk…in private.”
Once again, I’d rather not.
Normally, speaking to Garrett in private is not completely out of my comfort zone. He’s my boss after all, and closed-door meetings are a daily occurrence. But this feels…different. For one thing, I’m out of my element. Literally. There’s also a zero percent chance that I’m not about to find out Garrett North’s preferred vernacular for the word ‘breast.’
So, yeah…I’d really rather not.
“You coming?” Garrett asks as he turns to see that I’m still glued to the safety of my seat.
“S-sure,” I say as I pry myself off the seat.
Before I can close the distance between us, Garrett is already traipsing off down the riverbank.
“So, what do you think?” he asks as I hurry to catch up to him.
What do I think of what? Is this man seriously asking for a review of his boob handling skills?
“About what?” I ask.
“About today.”
“Which part?”
Garrett stops walking long enough to give me an annoyed look. “The helicopter, the rafting, the whole trip so far…”
“Oh, I thought maybe you meant…” Then I cut myself off. There’s no end to that sentence that isn’t absolutely mortifying.
Unfortunately, Garrett realizes what I was about to say anyway. His face twists up into a look I can’t quite place, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “No, not that,” he says quietly as he turns to start walking again.
Not even a little apology since we’re on the topic? Thanks, asshole.
I fall into step beside him and ponder his question. Every once in a while, Garrett asks my opinion on something – presumably so that he can do the opposite of whatever I say.
“Well, I hate Carl,” I say after a minute.
“Agreed,” Garrett chuckles beside me.
It’s almost as startling as the feel of his hand on my breast earlier. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard the man genuinely laugh before. He’s in rare form since we arrived here. He seems almost…relaxed? Well, at least when he’s not telling off Carl.
“What else?”
“I, uh, like it so far?” I say, uncertain of what type of feedback he’s looking for.
“Can you elaborate?”
“The helicopter ride was a nice start. It was cool to get a bird’s eye view of the where we’d be rafting before we set out on the water,” I offer.
“How do you feel about the motorized raft after spending the day on it?” he asks.
“I feel…good…about it, I guess? What’s with all the questions, Garrett?”
The last tendrils of sunlight illuminate the rise and fall of Garrett’s broad shoulders. “I just want to hear a normal person’s opinion of the tour.”
“A normal person? What does that even mean, Garrett?”
I’m the one who stops abruptly this time. Garrett looks down at me through that foggy plexiglass that I’ve become accustomed to and sighs heavily. He’d love for this conversation to end right now, but I’m not letting him off the hook that easily. Something about knowing that I get to shove a resignation letter in his face when we get back from this stupid trip has emboldened me to say exactly what’s been on my mind for the past year.
“Someone who isn’t as in shape as you?” I ask when he fails to respond to my original question. “Someone who isn’t as rich as you? Someone inferior to you in every conceivable way? Someone with a vagina?”
Okay, that one slipped out, but I stand by it.
Garrett cringes as the word ‘vagina’ hangs in the air between us. I’d love to cringe too, but my righteous indignation won’t allow it.
“Someone who’s less experienced with this sort of thing,” Garrett says carefully.
We both know he’s covering his ass. Garrett North has probably spent his entire life looking down his nose at everyone else. I wouldn’t be surprised if his childhood swimming lessons took place in an indoor pool full of one-hundred-dollar bills. That’s probably how he got all of those insane muscles. It can’t be easy to swim through that money.
“Listen, Garrett, I thought you wanted some privacy to apologize about what happened earlier on the raft, but…”
“Apologize?” he scoffs. “You fell on me. Would you have preferred that I let you faceplant into the dirt? Because next time, I’d be happy to oblige. And I only pulled you away from the group to talk because you told everyone that I’m a professional dog trainer – thanks for that, by the way – so I didn’t want them to overhear us talking about the company.”
My next words burn like fire on my tongue. Faced with the choice between swallowing them down painfully or spitting them out, I choose the latter. “You’re such an asshole, Garrett.”
He takes a step closer and growls, “What did I tell you about the name calling?”
Suddenly, we’re too close. The plexiglass wall doesn’t stand a chance against Garrett’s fiery gaze. I’m not sure that I stand a chance against it either. My pulse quickens, and my heart thumps against my sternum. When I suck in a ragged breath, I swear I can almost taste Garrett’s breath on my lips.
I’m not sure if I’m about to be fired or kissed.
I definitely don’t want to be fired. When I leave True North, it will be on my terms, which includes not paying back my hiring bonus.
I definitely don’t want to be kissed either. Not by Garrett North.
Do I? No…right?
Even though his lips look surprisingly soft in this light.
Okay, no. Bad Emma. You are not seriously standing on a riverbank at twilight thinking about your asshole boss’s soft lips.
“I’m going back to camp,” I announce before abruptly turning on my heel to walk away.
Garrett doesn’t object. He doesn’t follow me either.
Back at camp, most of the tents have already been claimed by a pile of luggage out front. There are two left, and thankfully, they’re pretty far apart. I grab my backpack and claim the closer of the two remaining tents. I just need to lock – er, zip – myself away and sleep off this weird day.
But when I hear Garrett’s distinct footsteps passing by my tent an hour later, I’m still wide-awake wondering what would have happened if I stayed and we finished our fight.