The Colorado River #2
He pulled to the shore next to me and powered down his WaveRunner.
The sudden stillness swallowed us whole. The hum of the water jets and the roar of the engines were all gone, leaving only the quiet rush of the current and the towering canyon walls rising around us. It was breathtaking. Isolating.
And dangerous. Conflicting. Insane.
I should have felt in control. This was my game, my design, and I’d played it before, cool, clearheaded, and emotionally detached all the way to the end. But as I turned to Winston, catching the way the golden light played over his face, something shifted inside me.
I wasn’t supposed to feel this comfortable. This connected.
It was overwhelming. Exhilarating. And dangerous in a way I didn’t know how to fight.
“This looks perfect,” Winston said, helping me onto the mix of pebbles and sand that lined the tiny patch of beach nestled between tall canyon walls. It was barely large enough for us to sit down for a picnic.
I checked the rocks carefully, like the man who owned the WaveRunners had urged me to.
“What are you doing?” Winston asked.
“Um, looking for snakes,” I said, shying away from the feelings that had unsettled me. “They have rattlesnakes here, or so I’ve been told.”
He frowned slightly, but then managed to smile. “Fabulous. Do you see any scorpions, while you’re at it?” His voice was a little fraught with tension when he asked about the insects. “I hate scorpions.”
“Yeah? Why?” Splashing in ankle-deep water, I opened my WaveRunner’s front cargo compartment and took out the blanket. “I didn’t see any. Do you still want to eat out here?”
Winston grinned, his gaze flicking to mine. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”
The implication landed, thick and deliberate. I met his eyes, letting the moment stretch before responding with a slow, playful smile and a tilt of my head. Then, without a word, I spread out the blanket. He brought over the cooler, but the shift in energy lingered between us, charged and unspoken.
“Why do you hate scorpions?” I asked. Perhaps bringing him here hadn’t been the greatest idea.
“One of those nasties bit me as a child. It was excruciating pain. I’ll never forget it. Ugh.” He laughed, but still looked around our space with suspicion. “I keep fresh lavender everywhere. It’s a natural repellent.”
Eventually, we settled down and unpacked the cooler, which I’d filled with gourmet sandwiches, strawberries on ice, and some sodas. As we ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly, ranging from our favorite places to travel to our shared passion for renewable energy.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, its golden light danced over the water, stretching long shadows across the shore.
The air had cooled slightly, the desert heat giving way to something softer, more forgiving.
We had drifted closer without thinking, the space between us narrowing as conversation gave way to an easy silence.
It was perfectly serene, being there with him. No other people around, nothing to fear. Just the two of us, watching the slow Colorado flowing at our feet.
I wasn’t used to silence meaning this. With other men, quiet moments were filled with calculation, waiting for the next move, the next line in whatever script I needed to follow.
But this was different. There was nothing to manipulate here, nothing to scheme.
Just Winston, watching the slow flow of the Colorado River, and me, realizing I liked being beside him more than I wanted to admit.
After a while, he turned to me, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the setting sun. “Today has been amazing. I’m really glad we did this.”
“Me, too,” I replied softly, feeling my heart race as I met his gaze.
Damn. I’m not ready for this.
He reached out, his fingers barely brushing my skin as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was light, thoughtful. It was nothing. It was everything.
“I think I’m starting to understand why the sun shines a little brighter around you,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent.
I breathed, trying to find my footing, trying to remind myself of the plan. But for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
My breath caught in my chest, the chemistry between us unmistakable. I leaned in slightly, my eyes locked on his. “Winston, I—”
Before I could finish, Winston closed the distance between us, his lips finding mine in a tender, lingering kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us in the perfect moment.
When we finally pulled back, I felt a mix of exhilaration and contentment, all the wrong feelings seeming so right. “That was . . .”
“Perfect,” Winston finished, a smile spreading across his face.
We stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the river gently lapping at the shore. I was dreading the moment when we’d have to leave.
The shadows were long and dark when we started riding back. As we reached the dock and dismounted our WaveRunners, Winston took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“This is just the beginning, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
I hesitated for only half a heartbeat. “Yes.”
District Attorney Mitchell: What services were you hired to provide for the defendant?
Anthony Vega: I was supposed to take celebrity photos of her, to make her look famous . . . you know, like a rock star. Then use the photos in an article about her and get it published in the papers.
District Attorney Mitchell: How did you achieve that?
Anthony Vega: I called a few friends. Other freelance photographers like me. The pay was so good I could afford to share a little, and it made it more realistic. She was pleased.
District Attorney Mitchell: Was the defendant targeting anyone specific with her ruse?
Anthony Vega: Yes. She wanted to get the attention of that guy she killed, Winston Donovan.