Chapter Fifteen
Donovan
You know that thing where you’re having a vulnerable moment with a surprisingly down-to-earth guy and you’ve said a little too much so you think it might be a good idea to kiss him as a distraction but then he gets hit in the face with an oar which kind of kills the mood so you stick to inane topics and river stories for the rest of the day but you can tell he picked up on that thing you said that was more than you wanted to say and really wants to ask you about it but can’t because you’ve decided to become besties with the two guys on the trip who aren’t tools even though you would rather be talking to the guy you almost kissed?
Uh, yeah. Me neither.
“So we took this really intense personality quiz,” Emmett is telling me from the beach, while I sit in the river scrubbing biodegradable shampoo into my hair.
He declined the invitation to join in on the bathing party most of the group is doing this afternoon, saying something about dry shampoo so he doesn’t ruin his hair with the dirty water.
Maverick, on the other hand, readily joined me in the river when I asked, and though he has already washed his hair, he’s enjoying the cool water as the sun beats down on us.
When the WanderLove girls saw us heading to the river, they all grabbed their supplies and followed, which prompted the college crew to do the same, though they’ve opted to stay on the other side of the boats to “let the kids have their fun,” according to one of them.
Now, Steph and Rosa are flirting it up with Brody and Cody a few yards downriver, and Morgan and Zahra have taken up sunbathing farther up the beach now that they’re clean.
Mason and Farah are working on dinner, which means I’m buddied up with Maverick, Emmett, and Thiago, who has fallen asleep on the nearest boat with a towel over him, blocking out the sun.
And Derek? The instant he got his tent set up, he promptly lay down to take a nap.
I think the combination of poor sleep and a violent oar to the jaw really took its toll on him.
Or he recognized what I was doing when I asked the WanderLove boys to help bring all the kitchen stuff up the beach, and he accepted the fact that I am not ready for another deep conversation.
Something tells me he won’t let me avoid it forever, but I’m going to take advantage of this time away from him while I’ve got it.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep up with Emmett’s incredibly detailed explanation of the WanderLove group and how they all ended up on the river. “And they used that quiz to pair you up for the trip?”
“I don’t think we’re fully matched with a single person,” Maverick says.
He only has his legs in the water now, leaning back on his elbows with his toned torso on full display in the sunshine.
Despite his frat boy appearance, he’s more on the quiet side and doesn’t seem to have the ego I would have expected.
With Brody distracted, I’m enjoying some normal conversation without loaded glances from the single guys.
“I’m pretty sure anyone could match with anyone in the group,” Maverick adds, “and the whitewater trip is how we figure out who we pair best with.”
“If that’s the case,” Emmett says, wrinkling his nose, “I think you and I are toast, Mav. The only way we were going to have a chance with Steph or Rosa was if the algorithm decreed it.” He looks over to where the two gals are now in a splash battle with their bros, a bit of longing in his expression.
I quickly dunk my head back, rinsing the shampoo from my hair.
Personally, I like the other two girls better, even if Morgan inadvertently tried to choke Derek last night.
Rosa seems almost possessive over Cody, and Steph tends to give me dirty looks any time she sees me.
Maybe because she wants Brody for herself, and Brody hasn’t fully given up despite me turning down his proposition to share a tent before the trip started.
“I don’t think it was an algorithm that put us all together,” Maverick tells Emmett as I rinse my hair. “And even if it was, it can’t predict who will fall in love.”
“So why sign up?” I ask as I squeeze some conditioner onto my palm and start working it through my hair.
He shrugs. “Sounded fun. Less fun when I met the other guys. No offense, Emmett.” There’s something very cool about this guy, both in the sense of trendiness and in his vibe.
He comes across as chill with just about everything, and now I understand why he wasn’t fazed by picking up a handful of sand, complete with scorpion, and tossing it away.
“At least we’re not competing with that,” Emmett grumbles, looking to his left.
I shouldn’t look. As soon as he says it, I know I shouldn’t turn around. But I do, and I go slack jawed as the one and only Derek Riley comes striding down the beach with so much swagger that I’m convinced he’s putting on a show on purpose.
Backed by the late afternoon sun, he reaches the water’s edge and toes off his sandals, and then his hand goes to his shirt collar and pulls it over his head in a smooth, practiced motion, revealing every inch of his tan, muscled torso.
Without acknowledging anyone, he walks into the river and sinks into the water, fully submerging himself before he rises back up and shakes his head, sending a shower of sparkles across the water’s surface.
His hand goes up, pushing his hair from his face and showing off those strong arms that I spent way too long watching while he rowed today.
Biceps and triceps flex and bulge with each movement, as do the abs rippling along his torso.
Water glistens on his broad chest, clinging to the dark hair dusted over his skin, and there is nothing about this man that is small or poorly defined. He is—
A splash of water hits my face, and I turn in surprise to find Maverick giving me a judging look. “Come on,” he mutters with a quick shake of his head. “I thought you were one of the cool ones.”
Mortification burns in my cheeks, and I am so glad Mason isn’t down here. If he thought I was drooling before…
“She’s very cool,” Derek’s deep voice says right behind me, and my whole body erupts in goosebumps despite the heat in my face. “It’s not everyone who can teach an unteachable guy like me how to row a boat.”
Sounds like my avoidance tactic has finally failed me.
I turn slowly, bracing myself for the sight of a wet Derek up close and personal.
I got a glimpse of his bare torso in Chuck’s shop, but I tried to be courteous and give him and his abs at least a little privacy.
That’s going to be a lot harder with him standing waist-deep a few feet away.
And I think he knows it.
“Donovan,” he says, and I swear he’s making his voice deeper than usual. “I can’t find my shampoo, so I was wondering if I could use yours.”
I reach for the bottles I left sitting on the spare oar, only remembering I was halfway through detangling my hair with the conditioner when my fingers get stuck and tear a few hairs from the roots. “Ow.”
Derek chuckles. “Need some help?”
“Sure,” I squeak, mentally kicking myself for being weak. The closer I get to him, the more I’m going to want to tell him my secrets the way he told me his. And that would be bad. For both of us.
Crouching down so he’s at the same level as me, he reaches up and pulls my hair from my hold, running his fingers along my scalp a few times to make sure he got it all or maybe just to torture me with his gentle touch.
I’m vaguely aware of Maverick and Emmett wandering up the beach and leaving us alone, but I’m more focused on the way Derek starts working through the tangles like it’s a totally normal thing for a near stranger to do.
Maybe it is normal for him. Maybe the tabloids get it wrong and he often has a beautiful woman in his pool, enjoying his skillful hands.
“This is another new one for me,” he murmurs, as if hearing my thoughts. “Any tricks for getting out the tangles?”
Every word he speaks hits me with more force than the last, like whatever low and rumbly voice he’s using is designed specifically to get under my skin. “Don’t let it get tangled in the first place,” I reply, though it isn’t without difficulty. “But I’ve never been good at that part. Ow.”
“Sorry.” He murmurs that word into my ear. Way too close. “My hair has never been much longer than it is now, so this really is new territory for me.”
I’m doing everything I can to keep myself from leaning back into his chest and seeing how it would feel to be held by this man.
There’s something in the way he’s being so gentle with my hair that feels like he’s unbuilding my walls brick by brick.
I’m terrified, but at the same time I’ve never felt safer.
Like he’s telling me with this gesture that I can trust him with all the hard stuff I keep hidden from the world.
I play with my hair when I’m nervous, but I can’t do that now because it’s all in Derek’s capable hands, and I have no idea what to do.
I force out a question before I get lost in the thought of Derek protecting me from the world. From myself. “What else was new?” I choke out.
“Hmm?”
“You said another new thing. What else was new?”
He chuckles. “Take a wild guess.”
“You’re never going to take indoor plumbing for granted ever again?”
“Never,” he agrees. “I can’t believe you do this all summer long.” His fingers find a particularly big knot, and he instantly lightens his touch to avoid pulling on my hair. “What in the world did you do last night to get this so tangled?”
I don’t remember what I dreamed about, but it kept me restless.
“Must have had a nightmare about this self-important actor I had to rescue in Moab a few days ago,” I say, even though my instinct to keep him at a distance is dying at an alarming rate.
I saw some of the real Derek today, and he was…
nice. Human. He trusted me with something big, and I don’t want to betray that trust by insulting him. Again…