Chapter Nine
Donovan
The first night on the river is always an adventure because no one knows what they’re doing.
Not even the guides half the time, especially early into the season like this.
As we try to figure out our group dynamics as a guide team and divvy out the tasks, the guests are figuring out how their tents work and realizing there aren’t any flush toilets for the next five days.
It’s chaos and one of my favorite parts of a trip because the people-watching is divine.
“Five bucks says the Thompsons are getting divorced when they get home,” Mason says as he helps me grab tonight’s dinner ingredients from the ice chest on his boat.
I glance behind me to where the married couple have been shouting at top volume for the last ten minutes while they try to get their tent set up, to no avail.
Chuckling, I tuck tortillas and a bag of cantaloupe in one arm so I can reach for the peppers Mason hands me.
“No way. They’ll be renewing their vows in a month and going on a second honeymoon.
” Do I believe that? Maybe. Rivers have a way of changing people.
At some point I’ll talk to the couple and see if I can nudge them in whatever direction will make them the happiest.
Mason ducks into the ice chest again, rooting through the ice for the chicken breasts. “Have you paired up the WanderLove people yet? Thiago’s convinced he knows who’s ending up with who.”
“Well, I was stuck on a boat with Superman all day, so I haven’t had a chance to get to know any of them yet.” But they’re setting up camp the closest to the boats, so now might be a good time to make some observations.
Four girls and four guys, all of them strangers.
The girls look like they’re bonding, giggling as they stake down the extra-large tent they’re sharing, but based on the tense body language of the guys as they work on their two tents, they’re not sure about each other.
I wouldn’t be surprised if they see each other as competition, even though the numbers are even.
Most likely, they’re all going to be interested in the same one or two girls and leave the other two feeling like consolation prizes when they get matched up with guys who didn’t pick them.
Maybe that’s the dating pessimist in me talking.
Hopefully they’ll be too interested in each other to pay much attention to me. I got enough interest from Derek to last a lifetime today on the boat. We didn’t talk much after I went on my movie rant, but his nonstop studying as I rowed was almost worse than him asking questions.
I’m glad to have a break from his unnerving gaze and wondering what he was writing in his small notebook.
“What’s Thiago’s guess?” I ask as I balance the milk Mason hands me on top of the other ingredients in my arm.
He chuckles and shuts the ice chest, moving to a square metal can to grab dessert.
“Frat Boy and Ariel.” Brody and the redheaded girl, Morgan, I’m guessing.
Poor girl. “Harvard and Cinderella.” Wait, maybe Brody is Harvard?
“Trust Fund goes with Jasmine, and Gym Bro is paired up with Tiana.” Honestly, any of those nicknames could fit Brody.
“Do you always compare the female guests to princesses?” I ask in curiosity.
Mason shrugs as he grabs boxes of pudding. “Most of the time, yeah. It’s one of the only things he and I have in common.”
“A love of animated characters,” I say wistfully. “That’s adorable.”
“At least I’m not the one who was drooling over the movie star an hour ago.”
My jaw drops. “Oh, you don’t want to go there unless you want to wake up to a tent full of spiders on Thursday morning. I was not drooling.”
Was I admiring Derek’s physique while he helped Thiago carry the insanely heavy kitchen box up the beach when we first got to camp?
Sure. The man is literally paid for the way he looks.
And yeah, okay, he’s a good actor too. One of the best out there right now.
But what matters is I wasn’t drooling. Just appreciating what was hinted at beneath his t-shirt.
The guys in the WanderLove gang are plenty masculine, but Derek is a man.
“Mm hmm.” Giving me some impressive side-eye, Mason grabs the last of the food and walks up the boat, hopping onto the shore next to me. “You’re basically my boss, so I’m going to leave it alone.”
“Smart move, Mase.”
“But I’m still thinking you’ve got a little crush on Derek Riley!” With a cackle, he dodges the fist I try to throw at him and scurries up the beach to where we’ve set up the kitchen.
Unfortunately for me, punching someone while holding an armful of food is a logistical nightmare, so I lose half my load into the sand. I sigh, praising the fact that everything tonight is wrapped in plastic, but when I reach for the peppers, a large hand beats me to them.
A very manly hand.
“A crush, huh?” Derek says, laughter in the words.
Right now, I would rather talk to one of the WanderLove guys than acknowledge Derek. I would even take Brody, who is stuck sharing a tent with Emmett instead of me and looks none too happy about it.
Grabbing the tortillas before Derek can reach for them, I tuck the bags against my body and slowly lift my gaze to meet his. “Did you miss the part where I said he’s dead wrong about that?”
“Technically you didn’t say that.” He narrows his eyes, lips lifting in a smirk. “The only thing you denied was drooling.”
“I thought my fist was pretty convincing.” I raise my hand to show him, though I’m not sure what I’m trying to prove.
Or why I think it’s a good idea to be cavalier about punching my coworkers.
Dropping my hand to my side, I shrug and look anywhere but at the man in front of me.
“For the record, I do not regularly punch Mason. Or anyone. I missed on purpose.”
“Uh huh.”
Gah, I need to get a handle on this conversation. “Do you need help with your tent or something? Why are you over here?”
Derek looks down the beach, where he and Hunter took their stuff when we set the guests loose to pick their campsites, and I’m shocked to see his tent upright, the rain fly rustling in the breeze. It’s one of only four completed guest tents, while four are still in progress.
“You look surprised,” Derek says when he turns back to me.
“I am,” I admit. “You don’t strike me as the camping type, and I highly doubt Hunter did that.” Not when the bodyguard is currently hunched on a camp chair, his feet propped up on a rock and his nose wrinkled as he looks at all the nature around him.
Derek chuckles. “Yeah, he’s not really outdoorsy, and he’s worried the desert air is going to murder his pores. I think this week will be good for him. Give him some perspective.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I would have expected him to say that about you, not the other way around.”
“I’ve been camping before.” There’s a harder edge to his voice now, even if his expression remains carefree. “Not all stereotypes are true.”
“But they’re usually still based in fact,” I mutter and hold out my hand to take the peppers. “I should help Mason get started with dinner.”
Derek, however, shifts back, holding the peppers out of my reach. “I was wondering if you’d let me take your place.”
I gape at him. “You want to cook dinner for everyone?”
He shrugs, taking a step up the beach to where Mason is getting some water boiling. “I like cooking, and the more I can immerse myself in the life of a guide, the better. Besides, you rowed all day and deserve a break.”
“I get paid to row all day. And to cook.” I was only on the oars for a couple of hours. Not exactly a strain. “That’s kind of you, but—”
“Oh, this is purely selfish,” he argues with a small laugh.
“If I have the excuse of prepping dinner, I can avoid that.” He jerks his head to the giant tent as the girls inside come stumbling out in bikinis and wild grins, making their way down the beach toward us.
Derek’s expression turns more ‘cornered animal’ the closer they get. “Please.”
As fun as it would be to see how he handles four twenty-somethings who look like they would gladly trade their potential WanderLove matches for the great Derek Riley, I understand his reasoning all too well.
It’s why I try to be in the kitchen whenever I can, especially on adult-only trips like this.
You can either keep flirting with me or eat dinner, but you can’t do both, I’ve said more than once.
“Fine, you can help,” I say right when Derek looks like he might make a mad dash for his tent instead of getting stuck in conversation with the WanderLove gals.
“Thank you,” he breathes and grabs the rest of the food I’m holding, hurrying up the slope to join Mason.
Rosa (Tiana, I assume) and Steph (Cinderella) both let out little whimpers of disappointment and slow down when they reach me, but Morgan (Ariel) and Zahra (Jasmine) book it straight to the river, squealing when they hit the cold water and probably rethinking their decision to go for a quick swim before dinner.
Based on the way all four WanderLove guys are watching them with interest, they made the right choice.
“Stick to the eddy,” I remind the women, pointing at the place where the current along the shore is going upstream and won’t pull them down the river.
Then I head up the beach, holding back a smirk when Derek sees me and tenses, like he thinks I’m about to change my mind.
Tempting as that is, I hate going against my word.
“Dono,” Mason says when I arrive, glancing from Derek to me. “Is it okay if he—”
“I told him he can help, but only because he’s a trained chef.” Ignoring the way Derek’s eyebrows lift, I look around the small space and hold back a groan. This is going to be a ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ situation, and I learned the hard way not to let Mason be in charge of cooking.
I’m going to have to stay, which means being alone with Derek once again. “We can handle things here if you want to help Thiago with the Hopper,” I tell Mason.