Chapter Six
Derek
“Absolutely not,” Donovan says with the force of a battering ram.
I was already having a terrible morning after reading the most recent Hot Scoop article and fielding worried phone calls from my friends, but seeing Donovan back away from me and emphatically shake her head isn’t making my day any better.
She looks like I just asked her to live in my attic and scrub my twenty thousand square feet of floors every day with a toothbrush.
Joke’s on her. I don’t have an attic.
Clenching my jaw, I give her a second to reconsider her reaction to my request. I’m offering her employer a hundred thousand dollars so I can learn how to man a boat, and she’s refusing?
I know I didn’t make a good first impression the other day, but I can’t be that repulsive, can I?
“Is there a problem?” I ask, unable to keep the growl out of my words.
“No!” Tate stands and waves his hand toward Donovan as if trying to make his stubborn employee disappear. “No problem! Of course we can demonstrate that for you.”
I grimace. “That’s not exactly what I meant. I need hands-on experience.”
“Only licensed guides can be on the oars,” Donovan says sharply. Her arms are folded, but they don’t fully hide the way her hands are clenched into tight fists. “Sorry, Riley, but that’s not on the table.”
“He could row the gear boat,” Tate argues and throws a glare at Donovan. “If there aren’t any passengers, I don’t see why—”
“You’re asking for a lawsuit, Spence.”
“Pops taught people all the time.”
“Those people weren’t one of the most well-known actors in the world.”
As they keep arguing, I run through my first interaction with Donovan and try to figure out why she hates me enough to argue against a whole lot of money coming her way.
Beyond her nerves, most of her body language the other day conveyed confidence and disinterest, but today she’s tense with what looks like deep-seated fear. But why?
“It doesn’t have to be you,” I say, interrupting Donovan’s hissed argument as I stand. I brace myself against her glare, but it still hits me with surprising force. “There are three other guides on the trip, right?”
Pulling her hat from her head, she runs a hand through her wavy red hair and nods with clenched teeth.
“Then there shouldn’t be a problem.” I don’t know why there’s a problem in the first place. “As long as they have decent experience, one of them can…” I pause when Donovan and Tate share a look that makes me nervous. “What was that?”
“What?” they ask at the same time.
I narrow my eyes. “That look. The other guides are experienced, right?”
“Well,” Tate says, drawing out the word.
Donovan sighs. “Two of them have only been certified since the start of this season. But they’re capable.”
“Capable doesn’t mean skilled,” I say as my heart rate kicks up a notch. “No, see, I need to learn from an expert.”
“Why?” they both ask.
I glance between them, noting some similarities in their features and mannerisms. They might be more than just coworkers, but that’s not important right now. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Then we can’t help you,” Donovan says.
“What about the fourth guide?”
“Farah?” Tate rubs the back of his neck and shares another loaded look with Donovan. “She’s been with us for a couple of summers now. She’s good.”
Hardly inspiring confidence. Taking a step forward, I fix my gaze on Donovan, who tenses up again.
“How long have you been rowing?” I ask in a low tone.
She wasn’t listed on Red Earth River Tours’s website as one of the guides, but she’s clearly right at home here and has some influence over the company.
“Donovan’s our best,” Tate says when she stays quiet, and he flinches when she whacks him in the gut. “She started rowing fifteen years ago and has a perfect record.”
My eyebrows lift of their own accord. “Meaning what?” I ask without looking away from Donovan.
“Never flipped a boat,” Tate answers.
Color blossoms on Donovan’s cheeks, and she ducks her head as I take another step toward her and say, “Sounds like you’re the expert.”
“I don’t want to teach you, Riley,” she says to the floor.
“Why not?”
As she looks up, her eyes burn with something intriguing. It’s no longer fear or even hatred. It’s more along the lines of defiance. “I can’t tell you that,” she says, repeating my own words.
What in the world does this woman have against me? No one has ever disliked me like this—I’ve never given anyone a reason to—and I would have remembered meeting her before now, especially if I wronged her somehow.
And while I normally hate using my fame and fortune against other people, she’s leaving me no choice.
I picked this company because it was small and had the lowest number of people per boat.
I don’t have any other free weeks to hunt down another trip I can take, so this is my only shot to get some experience maneuvering through rapids before filming happens next summer.
And since I only have a few days to learn, I need the strongest teacher I can get.
It’s time to play my best hand.
“Well,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets and setting my face in a disappointed expression. “If you can’t teach me, Donovan, then I guess there’s no point in taking the trip. Thanks anyway.” Ignoring Tate’s wide-eyed horror, I give him a nod and turn to leave.
“Wait,” Donovan says on a groan.
I let myself grin for half a second before I force my excitement down and look back.
She looks like she might be sick, her nose wrinkled and her hair clamped in her hands over one shoulder. “Fine.” When I don’t respond, she rolls her eyes. “I’ll teach you. Whether you actually learn is up for debate.”
“Donovan,” Tate hisses, then turns a smile to me as he nervously massages his palm. “Does that satisfy you, Mr. Riley?”
Not in the least, but only because there’s something Donovan is hiding from me. I don’t like variables I can’t control, and she only agreed because I was holding the fate of her job in my hands. I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t realize how much power she holds over me.
“All the guest fees, plus an extra hundred thousand from my end, and Donovan will teach me everything she knows.” I hold out my hand to Tate.
He glances at the NDA on the table. “Assuming everyone signs one of these,” he mutters with a wince.
“They will. Tell them someone is offering to pay their way and they’ll get a full refund if they sign.
But don’t mention my name.” With my luck, Hot Scoop would get a tip and descend on this place in ten minutes flat, and I can’t have them knowing what I’m up to without risking negative press about the whitewater movie.
It’s been a long time since I had a legitimate passion project, and I want this one to succeed. I have to be careful.
“Great,” Tate says and shakes my hand with a firm grip. “Thank you for choosing us.”
“Thanks for being willing to work with me.” I turn to the front door. “Janie?”
She slips through the door with a stack of forms ready to go, handing them to Tate and producing several pens from her bag.
“All they have to do is sign at the bottom!” she says brightly.
As soon as he takes the pens and heads out to the yard, Janie holds a protein bar out to me almost at the same time my stomach growls.
Chuckling, I accept the bar and shake my head, wondering how she always manages to anticipate my needs. “Thanks.”
“You missed breakfast, remember?” She grabs a bottle of water from her bag and hands me that too. “Need anything else?”
How did I survive as long as I did without her?
“No. Just…” Pulling my phone from my pocket, I look at the dark screen for a second before handing it over to her.
If I turned it on, I would see emails from my agent, another text from my mother, and a whole lineup of worried and reassuring texts from my friends.
Things I should respond to but haven’t. “Look out for them while I’m gone?
” I’ve never gone more than a couple of days without cell service since the day I met Cole almost a decade ago, and something about disconnecting like this makes me nervous.
What if they need me, and I’m not there to help?
“They’ll be okay, Derek,” Janie assures me. “I promise.”
So why do I hear Cole’s voice in my head, asking me if I can trust Janie?
Elliot said something strange this morning too, mentioning that the picture on the Hot Scoop article, taken from behind me, looks like it was taken before I was discovered because I didn’t have my phone in my hand in the photo.
I’m too tired for this. I’ve never had a reason to doubt her, so why would I now?
“Thanks,” I murmur, forcing away the thoughts my friends have put in my mind. I wouldn’t have hired Janie if I didn’t know in my gut that I could trust her, and there’s no point in being paranoid. They don’t know her like I do. “Could you go see if Mr. Tate needs any help?”
With a smile, Janie nods and heads out the side door, glancing at Donovan as she passes.
Donovan’s the only one left in the room with me now. “You’re becoming a real problem, Riley,” she says as soon as the door closes. Some of her irritation is gone, but there’s still a stiffness in her posture as she glares at me.
Since I’m likely to say something I shouldn’t if I don’t take my time, I twist the lid off the water Janie gave me and take a sip before I respond. “Why’s that?”
“I thought you said you weren’t filming a movie here.”
“I’m not.”
“But you’re researching for one.”
Clenching my jaw, I fight to maintain a neutral expression. It was hard enough to keep my expressions in check the first time I was around her, but I’ve been awake since two thirty, when Freya called and assured me I did not have to be lonely and am always welcome in Candora if I need to get away.