Page 7 of Dare to Fall
I check my phone, tempted to call Fred back.
No signal.
“Guess we’re doing this,” I mumble, trailing after my former best friend.
It’s anyone’s guessing which one of us will end up tossed in the river before this rafting trip is over.
Chapter Four
Tucker
If I had any clue that Gabby Owens was the straggler, I wouldn’t have sent Clyde and the rest of the group down the river ahead of me. I would’ve insisted that they wait, despite the objections of the impatientKarenin the group. I suspected Gabby was in Cinnamon Creek, but that doesn’t mean I was ready to face her.
And now, it’s just the two of us with no way out of this except on the river.
“Where’s everyone else?” Gabby asks, scanning the empty shore as I pretend not to scan her.
Her wetsuit is halfway on, pants only, the sleeves tied at her waist. The tight-fitted long-sleeve shirt matches the blue of her eyes, and hugs all her curves in such perfection I nearly forget where I am. Her dark, rich hair is pulled back into a thick ponytail that catches on the breeze. God, she’s even more beautiful than I remember.
“Tucker?” she asks, those deep blue eyes narrowing at me like icy daggers.
“They’re gone.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, sweetheart. This is what happens when you’re twenty minutes late—forlaunchtime. The safety brief was half an hour ago.”
“There’re no rafts, Tucker.”
“Sure there are.” I point down the river, to the tiny orange dots way off in the distance just about to round a bend.
“There’s no rafts forus.”
“I know.”
Gabby looks flustered, which should make it easier to keep my walls up. It’s better she stays irritated with me so I don’t do something fucking stupid, like fall for her all over again. It sounds like the bridal party is only in town for the weekend. She’ll be gone after that, and it might be another decade before I see her again.
I’d be a wise man to keep my guard up, but being around Gabby has never made that easy.
My gaze drops to her pinched lips, and suddenly I’m a teenager again, filled with yearning for my best friend. I’ve fantasized about tasting those lips for more years than I care to admit. Even now, the temptation to push her up against a tree and coax those lips apart until neither one of us can fucking breathe is overpowering.
“There’re no cars in the parking lot, either,” she points out.
“Still as observant as I ever,” I say, laying the sarcasm on extra thick.
“How am I getting back?” she demands.
“Same way as everyone else.” I point down the river.
Gabby’s eyes fall shut and she takes a deep inhale. I don’t mean to stare, but those fucking glorious tits, accentuated by her tight-fitting shirt, rise and fall with her breath. Tits I’d really love to have in my hands as she rides my cock?—
“So we’re taking kayaks?” she guesses, posting hands on her hips again.
“We’re takingakayak.”
“No.”
“I am not legally allowed to let you take your own kayak.” It’s a lie, of course. But the chances that she actually read the waiver she signed are slim. The next tour leaving in an hour will be filled with tourists in their own kayaks.
