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 avoidthat.” 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.
He wrinkles his nose. “But I’m not on Hopper duty until Wednesday.”
“That was your first mistake. Thing’s going to be way more full in a couple of days.” I laugh at his horrified realization that I’m right, then pat him on the head. “But really, we’ve got dinner. If Farah doesn’t need help with the tents, you’re off the hook.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice, slipping around the prep tables and heading to the guides’ end of the beach.
Leaving me alone with Mr. Hollywood and his scrutiny. As long as he doesn’t try to get to know me, I’ll be fine.
“Do I want to ask?” Derek says, eyebrows pulling low when I look at him. “What’s with the glare?”
“Obviously you do want to ask,” I mutter and force my forehead to relax.
“Oh, no, I had a different question, and then you laser-eyed me. I don’t have to help if you’d rather work with Mason. I can hide in my tent or something.”
Sighing, I shake my head and grab the plastic container with all the sharp knives so I can have Derek start slicing. I hand him a knife and cutting board, then hold out the peppers. “As long as it isn’t Frat Boy or Gym Bro in here with me, I’m fine.”
As he takes out the first pepper, Derek’s eyes jump to the WanderLove group gathered by the water, interest brightening his features. “Which one is which?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. Mason and Thiago came up with the nicknames.”
“Not you?”
I glance at him sideways as I open the packages of chicken. “I generally prefer to call people by their names.” Except, of course, the man standing next to me, though I’m not sure why I’m so inclined to call him anything but Derek.
He hums, narrowing his eyes at me as if mirroring my thoughts, but then he turns back to the WanderLove group. He watches them chat and laugh on the shore for a few seconds, then his focus returns to the peppers. “It’s rare to see a group of friends that big.”
“Oh, they’re not friends. I don’t think they even knew each other before this week.”
“Really?”
I shrug. “Apparently they’re from some sort of matchmaking site and are here to find love.” I can’t repress a shudder that runs through me, though I hope Derek doesn’t notice.
“Do you have something against single people?” Of course he noticed.
“Nope,” I say, keeping my eyes on the table in front of us as I start cutting the chicken. “Ones who proposition me before the trip has even started, on the other hand…”
