I snort. The beginner groups are always entertaining. Half the people are terrified of tipping over. The other half areso confident they ignore my instructions and fall behind immediately.
Either way, somebody usually falls in.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel draws my attention toward the parking lot. More tourists. The river’s going to be full today.
A dark SUV pulls into one of the last open spaces and the driver pops out before the engine’s smooth rumble dies.
The first thing I notice is her hair. Auburn red with faint blonde highlights, it’s twisted into a loose braid hanging over one freckled shoulder.
The second thing I notice is her smile.
Bright and easy, it’s the kind of smile that makes people smile back without realizing it. Her arms reach toward the sky as she stretches. A sliver of pale skin appears between her tank top and shorts.
My mouth goes dry and my mind goes blank.
I've spent my entire life around tourists. Pretty women come through town all the time. None of them have ever made my brain stop working.
She reaches back into her vehicle and grabs a water bottle before sliding a pair of sunglasses into her hair.
Then she starts walking toward the check-in area.
Toward me.
My pulse kicks up. I don't think that's ever happened before.
"Dean."
I blink.
Dad’s staring at me expectantly. Like he’s waiting for an answer to a question I didn’t hear him ask.
"What?"
A slow grin spreads across his face.
Oh no.
"What?" I repeat.
"You were staring."
"I wasn't,” I deny out of habit but then I look back toward the parking lot confirming his suspicion.
The woman is gone. Panic immediately settles in my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I don’t relax until I see her standing by the rental counter.
Dad follows my gaze as his grin grows.
Damn it.
"Don’t say whatever you're about to say," I mutter.
He chuckles and heads toward the office, leaving me to finish up by myself. No doubt he’s going to gossip about me to the boss AKA my mom.
By the time I finish helping a family of six into life jackets, the sun is high enough to turn the dock into a frying pan.
Sweat dampens the back of my shirt. The river sparkles beneath the sunlight, and somehow, I keep sneaking glances at her. She's standing near the edge of the dock, listening carefully to Dylan’s safety speech as she adjusts her life jacket and tucks loose strands of hair behind her ears.
My chest tightens every time I look at her.
