Derek folds his arms, smiling so subtly that it would be easy to miss. “I caught you off guard.”
“I’m pretty sure I did that to you first.”
“So we’re even.” He holds out his hand. “Truce? You’re here to work. I’m here to learn. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”
I decided long ago that I should avoid people like him, and my stomach twists in discomfort as I stare at his big hand.It doesn’t have to be anything more than that. I can handle a week, right? The nerves churning in my gut say no, but I remind myself that I can keep the focus on teaching him technique while on the river, and there are sixteen other guests to talk to while in camp.
“What do you say?” Derek asks, reaching his hand closer.
He has all sorts of calluses on his palm, and I wonder where they came from. He said he doesn’t like pretending to be something he’s not, which is sort of his whole job, but I believed him when he said it. Which means…
Unable to ignore my curiosity, I take his hand as I say, “All of your movies. You really did all those things your characters did in the films? Rock climbing and playing the piano and underwater crap?”
Derek’s hold on my hand tightens as his smile turns into more of a smirk. “Crap? What part of holding my breath for five minutes is crap?”
I hate that I’m impressed. “Five minutes? You can do that?”
“Not anymore, but I could, yeah.”
“But you aren’t a pro boxer.”
He tilts his head, somehow following my jump when he says, “Not a pro, technically, but I trained under one and beat him in a few matches before I filmedCross Hatch.”
Dang. “So that one movie where you played a chef?”
“Worked in a kitchen for several weeks with one of the most terrifying chefs in the world. She was intense, but she taught me so much.” His head tilts even more, the same way a dog does when he’s trying to figure something out. And since he’s still holding my hand, he’s suddenly crowding my space when he takes a step forward. “You seem to know a lot of my movies for someone who claims not to like me, Donovan Tate.”
A swear slips from my tongue. He’s right, but who told him my last name? Probably one of the other guides. The nice thing about my name is it could also be a last name, so using Donovan on its own makes it easier to stay anonymous around the dude bros who come on these trips and take an interest in me.
Or around Hollywood A-listers who embody so many things I hate.
So much for that.
Derek chuckles and slowly releases my hand before folding his arms. “Like I said, my goal is to learn the proper techniques of rowing a boat, so I’m counting on you to be the best like your cousin claims you are.”
Spencer.That snitch. “You should have picked a trip down the Grand Canyon if you want to learn from the best. Cataract Canyon is small potatoes compared to that.”
“Most commercial trips in the Grand Canyon use motors and S-rigs,” he argues. “That’s not the experience I need, and I don’t have time for an oar raft trip through that section. And since we’re still in the runoff season, the water should be high enough to get us a Class V in the Big Drops. Or a high IV at the least.”
“You did your research,” I mumble as an awful bubble of attraction rises in my chest. There’s something about a man speaking river technical terms that really does it for me, particularly when it’s one who isn’ttwenty years old and in between college semesters, but I wish it wasn’tthisman checking some big boxes. “I figured you would be a complete idiot.”
He chuckles. “About rivers or in general?”
“You don’t want me to answer that.”
He grins, hitting me full force with a picture-perfect smile that makes my knees go weak and my thoughts momentarily turn to mush. There’s no way he casually whips that thing out like it’s normal to be that naturally beautiful, but even if his mouth is full of veneers, it’s the way his eyes light up that makes his smile feel completely genuine.
Thank goodness for the soft voice that pulls my attention away.
“Uh, Donovan?” Thiago, hands in the pockets of his shorts, stands next to Hunter a few feet away and watches me with wary eyes. He’s a quiet guy, so he must have drawn the short straw when it came to interrupting my conversation.
Mason and Farah have gathered the rest of the group and look more amused than impatient, but a few of the other guests seem to be hitting their limits when it comes to waiting around.
Thiago clears his throat and speaks so quietly that I barely hear him. “We need to leave, no?”
Before I can agree, Derek asks, “Where are you from?”
Thiago ducks his head, hiding his eyes behind his light brown curls. “Peru, sir.”
