Chapter Five
Donovan
“You really need to change your cancellation policy,” I grumble to Spencer, pacing the pavilion behind the Red Earth office.
As it currently stands, people can cancel up to twenty-four hours in advance, which is usually after the equipment is packed and food has been purchased.
And if they don’t show up without cancelling, they’re only liable for half the cost of the trip and we have to refund the other half.
Which means we’re better off waiting than leaving without Jed and Joe Masters.
The last two guests to arrive for today’s trip.
They’re over an hour late, and we’ve had nothing but a hurried phone call telling us they’re on their way.
“I know.” Spencer doesn’t look up from the checklist that he’s gone through at least four times already.
Sometimes his thoroughness can be annoying, but never when it’s making sure we have everything we need for a trip.
I never have to wonder if we restocked the first aid kits or have enough allergen-friendly food for those who need it.
But I’m ready to hit the road, and Tweedle-Jed and Tweedle-Joe are the first ones being added to my blacklist for the week.
Well, second and third, since one of the other guests hinted that I could share a tent with him.
His implied offer came complete with an exaggerated blink that I think was supposed to be a wink.
Brody really needs to work on his game. And maybe figure out that he’s so barking up the wrong tree, unless he wants to accidentally get hit in the head with an oar.
I’m still on edge after my Derek encounter the other day, so I’m hoping this interaction with Brody is the only one like it on this trip.
The rest of the guests seem okay, though I’m not holding my breath that none of the other guys shoot their shot before the end of the week.
There’s a bunch of old college friends taking up half the trip, all of them in their early forties and paired off with significant others, but the other half of the group seems to be made up of strangers who all signed up as part of some sort of single-and-mingle website called WanderLove.
Brody got here through that group and certainly isn’t wasting his money, flirting with all of the available women as well as Farah and me.
The dating website is a good reminder of why I avoid social media whenever possible.
You never know what sort of crazy scams you’ll run into, and matchmaking through a public profile sounds questionable at best. Though, I’m tempted to look up the site when we get back, just to satisfy my curiosity.
I overheard one of the gals say that the person behind WanderLove nailed her personality just by looking at her social media profile, and she can’t wait to see who she’ll be paired with.
Apparently their soulmates won’t be revealed until the end of the trip. Diabolical.
“Okay, but we seriously need to go,” I say, nudging my elbow into Spencer’s arm. “Thiago is falling asleep.”
Actually, I think the river guide is already asleep, stretched out on top of the four-boat stack on the trailer. The guy can sleep anywhere, but he’s also prone to sleepwalking. Seems like a bad combination when he’s dozing twenty feet in the air.
Farah and Mason finished tying down the rest of the gear almost an hour ago, and it looks like the guests are getting restless, eager to climb on the bus and get this trip started.
I’m right there with them. I’m always happier when I’m on the river and away from the rest of the world.
Spencer grunts, finally hanging his checklist on the wall and taking in the sixteen people standing around the yard.
He spoke to all of them as they arrived and got all the necessary paperwork signed, so his worried expression is entirely due to our missing guests.
“They said they were on their way,” he mutters.
“They were told to arrive by seven or potentially be left behind,” I remind him. “It’s almost eight thirty.”
“Hi there,” a feminine voice says behind us.
Spencer and I both jump. He’s easy to startle, but I recognize that voice. Please tell me I’m wrong.
But no, when I turn around, it’s Janie Young standing there, the corner of her phone pressed to her chin as she studies us. I don’t think she recognizes me beneath my hat, or she would be scowling at me like she did the whole time in Chuck’s shop.
“Uh.” She glances between Spencer and me. “My boss is inside? There’s some kind of paperwork he needs to sign, right? And he wants to talk to the owner before he comes out with everyone. Oh, and he’s so sorry we’re late!”
This is a nightmare. I’m still asleep in the loft and having a strange heat-induced dream where Derek Riley is somehow Jed Masters and is coming down the Colorado River with me for a week.
That’s the only plausible explanation because none of this is making any sense as I follow my very confused cousin inside the office to find a movie star sulking in the corner, an LA Thunder hat—different from the last one—pulled low over his brow.
How many of those does he have? And why?
“Derek Riley,” I say, unable to hide my shock.
His head snaps up, eyes wide. “Donovan.”
“Uh.” Spencer looks at Derek. Looks at me. Looks at Derek. “You’re…”
Derek grimaces, looking grumpier now than he did a second ago.
“Yeah. I’m… I booked two spots under Jed Masters for the Cataract Canyon trip leaving today.
For me and my friend.” He jerks his head towards the front door.
Spencer usually keeps it open during business hours, but right now it’s closed, a hulking shadow standing just outside it and blocking the light from spilling through the window from the morning sun. That must be Hunter.
“Uh.” Spencer looks more confused than starstruck, but I’m pretty sure he’s reeling from this sudden shift in reality. I dig my elbow into his ribs, and he coughs, thankfully coming back to life. “Mr. Riley. You’re taking one of my trips?”
“I hope to,” Derek replies. “But I can’t unless everyone else on the trip signs an NDA saying they won’t tell anyone I was here.”
Is he kidding? No, he’s not, since Janie hurries forward and hands Spencer a piece of paper.
“Want to wait outside?” Derek says to Janie without looking at her. It’s more of an order than a question, but he doesn’t seem to care that his assistant dims before knocking on the front door and slipping through it when Hunter lets her out.
I didn’t dislike Derek the other day—I didn’t like him either—but there’s nothing about his demeanor today that would sway me in his favor.
Either he’s in a bad mood and taking it out on anyone around him, or this is the real Derek Riley.
I liked the confused and bumbling man I helped better than this version of him.
“NDA,” Spencer says, frowning at the paper in his hand. “This seems a bit extreme.” It’s not, but I can see why he thinks so.
Derek huffs an unamused laugh as he settles on one of the stools in front of the desk. “Not for me.”
“If you don’t mind me asking…” Without looking away from the contract, Spencer sits in the chair opposite Derek, and I would praise his professional manner if I wasn’t on the verge of freaking out.
If I thought I was panicking in Chuck’s shop, it’s nothing to the fear I feel now.
“Why wouldn’t you figure this all out ahead of time?
Tell us you were coming? We would have, I don’t know, accommodated your needs better. ”
“If I could have reached out sooner, I would have, but I have to take certain precautions when it comes to trusting strangers.” His gaze darts to me, eyebrows pulling low, before he looks at Spencer again.
“I’m sorry if this causes any problems for you or your guests, but doing this last minute was the only way I could make coming on the trip possible. ”
He didn’t take any precautions when he trusted me, and if he hadn’t booked the trip months ago, I might have wondered if he came here because of me.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I shift my weight to one foot as instinct tells me to get as far from this man as I can.
Maybe he’s not here for me, but that’s not going to make me any less nervous having him around.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Derek says, leaning forward and keeping his gaze fixed on Spencer.
Better than having him look at me. It’s the perfect time for me to go outside and let Spencer handle the logistics, but I can’t get myself to move. Maybe, if I stay, I can convince Derek to change his mind about coming on my trip so I won’t have to worry about him invading my safe space.
My stomach twists. Something tells me Derek isn’t the changing his mind type.
Spencer looks up from the paper with interest. “What do you mean?”
“Since I’m complicating things for you and the other guests, I’ll cover all the costs of the trip and then some.
You can reimburse what the others have paid, and I’ll add on a bonus for your guides.
” He looks at me again, only this time it’s more than just a glance.
His eyes trail over me slowly, leaving me queasy.
I tug my hat lower, as if I can hide my face enough to make him forget what I look like. “How much of a bonus?” I ask, unable to hold the question back.
He doesn’t even blink. “Twenty-five.”
“Dollars?”
“Thousand.”
Spencer chokes. “Oh, that’s—”
“Each,” Derek adds, narrowing his eyes at me as if daring me to challenge him.
With my knees threatening to buckle beneath me, I gape at the man and try to make sense of what he’s saying. “There are four of us,” I croak, feeling like my boat just went over a rock submerged in muddy water and unexpectedly dropped three feet.
Derek tilts his head as he studies me, and I really hope he can’t see how completely off-kilter he’s left me.
“Great. So an extra hundred grand on top of whatever the other guests paid. Assuming everyone agrees to sign.” He taps the NDA on the desk between him and Spencer, turning his focus back to my cousin. “Does that sound fair, Tate?”
I’m pretty sure Spencer has stopped breathing.
He’s now doing his best impression of a largemouth bass, gaping at Derek and looking like he might pass out.
I don’t blame him. If Derek is serious, he’s willing to pay us the equivalent of fifty guests.
No, more than that. Taking into account the cost of food and the permit and paychecks for the guides, he’s basically covering our entire season in one fell swoop.
I wished I had a way to save Red Earth, but while I’m grateful for the offer, this isn’t what I had in mind.
I’m not sure I can endure a week with Derek.
He’s too…much. His life is too much. One consolation is that everyone is going to be too obsessed with their famous tour compatriot to bother paying attention to me, but that doesn’t feel worth enduring the likes of Derek Riley for a whole week.
Whether he knows it or not, Derek threatens my entire way of life.
“That sounds more than fair,” Spencer says eventually, nodding eagerly.
My voice feels stuck in my throat as I try not to envision my quiet world crumbling around me. “Why would—”
“I have one other condition,” Derek says, and his eyes shift to me, staying there.
Intensely blue and piercing. If this is the way he normally looks at people, I suddenly understand why the internet doesn’t mess with Derek Riley.
I feel like he’s seeing right into my soul, at the same time silently telling me that he’s as perfect as everyone seems to think.
I hate everything about it and want to run more than ever, but I still can’t move.
“Anything,” Spencer breathes.
Derek’s still holding me captive with his gaze when he says something that makes my heart drop into my stomach. “Someone needs to teach me how to row.”
And something tells me that someone is going to be me.