“Maybe.” He doesn’t mean it. He thinks it’s Donovan having some profound effect on me. “But I’m asking you to be careful anyway.”
“Why?” What trouble does he think I can get myself into that I can’t get myself out of like I always do? I’m not Liam, who has a longstanding tradition of being in the worst places at the wrong times.
I’ve never been anythingbutcareful.
Taking a slow breath, Hunter runs a hand over his hair again, then says, “Because you’re not usually this trusting. I don’t…” He grimaces. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into this time.”
He heads for our tent before I can ask him what he means.
“Everything okay?” Donovan asks when I return to the kitchen.
I’ve been with her all day, filing away details about her to paint a better picture of who she is, but I give myself another moment to study her. The way she stands barefoot in the sand, wearing black nylon shorts and a white long-sleeved tee with the Red Earth logo splashed across the front. Her bright auburn hair is coming out of its braid under her hat, but she doesn’t seem to care.
Aside from her aversion to me, I don’t think many things bother her, and she is clearly in the place she belongs. She knows who she is and doesn’t hide any parts of herself, no matter how bold or brazen. Whatever worries Hunter has, he’s wrong. Donovan’s exactly the kind of person I could use in my life right now. Someone who won’t tiptoe around the real issue or say what they think I want to hear. If there’s anyone I can trust this week, surely I can trust her.
“Are you cooking without me, Tate?” I ask lightly, shaking off Hunter’s ominous ambiguities.He’s wrong.
But then Donovan winces, looking around to see if anyone is nearby before she says, “I’ll make you a deal, Superman. I’ll call you Derek at least half the time we’re out here if you promise to stick with just Donovan, kay?”
I take the hand she holds out, silently agreeing to her terms while her name plays on repeat in my head, like it’s trying to find where it belongsin the sea of information I have stored in there.Donovan Tate. Donovan Tate. Donovan Tate.
It doesn’t sound familiar, but she seems to think it might.
And I desperately want to figure out why.
Chapter Eleven
Donovan
NormallyItrytoget to know the guests as much as I can on the first night, but nothing about this trip has felt normal so far. It’s as much Derek’s presence as it is the WanderLove group, whose odd dynamic has put me on edge just like the actor has. We’ve never had a group like this on a trip before, and their interactions are almost painful to watch. The girls have been more interested in Derek than they have in their prospective matches, and the guys have been fighting hard for the girls’ attention.
Most of them, anyway. Brody still seems to think there’s potential with me, so when he isn’t watching the girls, he’s watching me, all with that almost hungry gleam in his eyes. I’ve done my best to ignore him and keep myself busy, but the beach is only so big.
Now, with the dishes done and put away and the other guides calling it a night, there isn’t much I can do but sit and wait for darkness to fall. Though the WanderLove gang are doing some sort of speed dating thing where they rotate chairs every few minutes, and the older half of the guests—the college friends—are content to keep tothemselves, I almost feel exposed sitting on my own like this. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.
I’m hoping most of that feeling is because Derek has turned out to be more of a barnacle than I expected.
Making dinner with me was one thing, but then he planted his chair next to mine, directing Hunter to sit on his other side and blocking off everyone else’s access to him while we all ate together in a circle. He ate his fajitas in silence but started asking questions as soon as he got up to help me clean up after dinner.
He asked about the trips Pops used to do before starting Red Earth, about how many trips I guide every summer, and about the other guides who work for Spencer but aren’t on this trip.
I reluctantly answered every question. With thousands of dollars on the line, even if his questions had nothing to do with rowing, it felt like I didn’t have a choice. Besides, having him at my side seemed to keep Brody away, which was an unexpected blessing, and it strangely got easier to talk as time went on.
Something about Derek’s calm demeanor makes me forget who he is. I didn’t think that was possible, given who he is.
Derek eventually grew quiet after we sat in our camp chairs again and Hunter went to bed, and he’s been writing in his little notebook ever since, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. I’m curious about what he’s writing in there—I can’t have given him anything super useful in terms of research—but asking would require starting up a conversation again.
I’m eager for some alone time, where I don’t have to worry I might say something I shouldn’t.
Hopefully everyone will go to bed early after the long day and give me some time to enjoy the night sky in silence. Dusk is my favorite time of day, that moment between day and night when the world seems to pause. When I can pretend my life has always been this peaceful.
“If I ask you a question,” Derek says, pulling me out of my thoughts, “are you going to ignore me?”
I smirk at him, unable to hold it back despite a spark of fear that ignites inside me. “What do you think?”
“I think it depends on the question.” He tucks his notebook and pen into his pocket and shifts his chair so he doesn’t have to twist as much to look at me. Night is settling in fast, so it’s getting harder to track his expressions, but he looks fairly calm and content. Like he has most of the day. “You’ve been doing this since you were a teen, right?”
Tension settles in my shoulders, my heart kicking up a notch. “Yeah. I went down my first river when I was fifteen.” Where’s he going to go with this?
