by Piper Rayne
“No,” she says quickly.
“C’mon, tell me the truth,” I say, knocking her shoulder softly with mine.
Her face turns scarlet. “Okay, maybe a little.”
That she’s just shared this with me feels big somehow, but I play it down. “There’s several runnable creeks around here. When the water’s high like this, we usually try to pack in a bunch of day trips in between guiding. You’re welcome anytime.”
She practically glows. “Thank you.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice the others packing up and realize it’s gotten late.
Lori notices too and groans, a low sound that vibrates through me. “I guess we should go,” she says, but it’s wistful, as if she wishes she could stay. “Annika and I will have ten new campers tomorrow.”
“Better you than me,” I say, shaking my head.
We both rise, and I stretch before I sling my guitar over my shoulder. “I’m terrible with kids.”
“How is that possible when you have so many siblings?”
“It’s because of my big family that I’m not good with kids. I know how evil they can be.”
She laughs, and it’s a sound so pure and light that my stomach does a loop around my spleen. I’m used to girls giggling and acting all googly around me, but this laugh isn’t like that. It’s genuine, true.
Grady spreads the coals of the fire then uses the bail bucket doubling as his seat to douse it with river water. In an instant, a plume of smoke rises into the air and we’re plunged into blackness.
Next to me, Lori gasps in surprise. I almost don’t hear it. That protective side of me jumps to life again. I reach for her hand, then wonder what the fuck I’m doing.
Before I can pull away, her small, smooth hand squeezes back.
We fall in behind the others. She’s unsteady on the cobbles, but doesn’t really need my help, though I tell myself I’m still holding her hand to make sure she doesn’t twist her ankle.
At the rig, we all pile in, Grady up front with me while the girls pile onto the bench behind us.
Grady flips the radio on, and we roll the windows down as I drive up the long, sandy road, bumping over rocks and washboards until we’re back to the highway. Grady’s telling me a story about last week’s pickup soccer game I missed because I was busy getting the gear ready for the season, but my mind is replaying my conversation with Lori.
Back at our outfitting post at the edge of town, everyone pitches in to store the raft and gear. Then Jules walks to her car, and Grady goes to his truck to wait for me while I lock up.
“Thanks again for a great time,” Lori says before heading toward Annika’s hand-me-down Hyundai that thank fuck is no longer mine.
“You’re welcome,” I say for what feels like the tenth time.
“I’ll get your clothes back to you tomorrow,” she says.
I wave her off. “Just give them to Annika. She’ll get them to me.”
“I’ll get what to you?” Annika says, joining us after saying goodbye to Jules, who drives off with a wave. Grady starts his truck.
“My stuff,” I say, nodding at Lori.
Her eyes narrow at me, but to Lori she says, “No problem.”
I say goodnight and turn away, but two steps later, Annika’s right behind me.
“I see what you’re doing,” she says, practically hissing in my ear.
I turn to face her. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s not going to be one of your conquests, okay? I like her. She’s nice. If you nail and bail, who do you think she’s going to blame?” Annika’s fierce eyes flare in the darkness. “Me,” she adds, pointing at her chest, “and this summer will suck.”
“We were just talking,” I say, annoyance lacing my voice. I love my sister’s fire, but I’m not taking orders from her.
Annika’s jaw tightens. “Don’t, okay? Find some other fuck buddy.”
“Hey!” I growl, keeping my voice low. “Who says I’m looking for a fuck buddy?”
She just shakes her head.
I watch her walk away, then turn and climb into Grady’s truck, still fuming.
Grady waits until the girls have driven off before leaving the empty parking lot.
“What’d you do to piss off Annika this time?”
I brace a sandaled foot against the dash. “She thinks I’m trying to get into Lori’s pants.”
Ahead of us, Annika’s little white car follows the winding curves of the canyon.
“Aren’t you?” Grady asks, raising an eyebrow.
I groan. “We were just talking.”
“She’s seriously hot. Did you see the size of her tits?” His cheeks puff with a loud sigh.
Is that why she couldn’t fit into Annika’s top? “Yeah, I guess.”
Grady gives me a look. “You guess? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so perfect in my entire life, dude.”
Yeah, I noticed her fantastic curves and her long, lean legs, but her sparkling brown eyes and her laugh are what come to mind now, and the way she listens. I’m not used to that. I’m not used to girls wanting anything from me but a good lay.
For about five seconds, I thought Delany might be different, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Annika’s accusation still stings a little. Why does nobody think me capable of being a good guy?
“Lori’s really smart,” I say, resting my arm on the windowsill. Ahead of us, Annika’s car hugs a long curve in the road, her headlights illuminating the sharp drop to the river below and the steep cliffs rising up to the right.
“She could be an astrophysicist and it wouldn’t matter.”
“Do you even know what an astrophysicist does?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Fuck no,” he replies. “My point is this: you like her, she seems to like you—”
“She does?”
Her hand felt so soft in mine, but there must be something wrong with me because hand holding is the wrong move. I should have kissed her, or insisted I take her home. Grady would have hitched or shacked up in the outfitting office. We’re tight like that.
“Dude, are we back in eighth grade?” he scolds.
He’s right. I’m acting like a moron.
“So, go get laid and we can get on with our summer.”
To avoid explaining what’s in my head right now, I shoot him a pointed stare. “What about you and Annika tonight?”
Grady gives me a look like a wet cat. “Dude, come on. We’re friends.”
“Good.” I love him like a brother, but knowing what I do about his heartbreaking ways, I would never let him get involved with Annika. Plus, White Cloud does not need any drama this summer. My brothers and I have our hands full as it is.
“That strainer scared the shit out of me today,” he says as the canyon widens to the broad river valley between the Sawtooths and the White Clouds.
“Scared me too,” I answer.
Grady is probably the only person I can tell this to. He’s been my best friend since fourth grade and even if I tried to hide my feelings from him, he’d see right through me. Nobody can read me like him, except maybe my mom, but it’s been a long time since she’s tried.
We pass a cluster of cabins, then the entrance to Sutter Ranch, a hoity-toity resort I’ve been snuck into more than once.
For some reason, this makes me wonder where Lori sleeps at Camp Osprey. Does she have her own cabin, or does she share it with the kids?
“Did they ever find…” Grady gives me a sideways glance, then refocuses on the road.
“Yeah,” I say with difficulty. Even with Grady, I still have a hard time talking about the accident. I sure as hell can’t tell him about the fight my dad and I had the morning he decided to run Rogue Falls alone and never came back.
“Your family doing okay?”
We reach our cross street and Grady turns right, away from the river. We pass a series of businesses—the grocery store, fly-fishing shop, Sourdough Gil’s, Penny Creek’s oldest bar.
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By “family” he means my three youngest siblings still living at home, and the way my mom is struggling to cope on her own. But I can’t tell him about how the spark has gone out of my mom’s eyes now Dad’s gone, how she’s drifting further and further away from us. I know I should feel more empathy or whatever—she lost her sidekick in this crazy life they built—but it’s complicated.
“Yeah,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light. I’ll check in with my mom tomorrow.
“Well, if you guys need anything,” he says as we pull up in front of our simple one-story rental cabin.
“Thanks.” We both hop out of the truck. His door squeaks shut, cutting through the silence like an alarm.
We walk to the door and enter the living room. Grady tosses his keys on the kitchen counter and stretches.
“You feel like hanging out?” He yawns.
“Nah,” I reply. “We got a full day tomorrow.”
He grins. “Right. Our job is so demanding. Donuts and coffee at ten a.m. and clock out by four, with several phone numbers in hand.”
I roll my eyes. “Slut.”
“Night, dude.” He saunters off to his room.
I collapse onto my bed and blink at the ceiling with only one thought in my mind—Lori. Annika’s accusation burns through my gut. She’s right. I should just find someone else.
My cock protests. I grab my shaft and force alternate images into my mind. The threesome video I watched last week. The girl at the diner in Boise with the perky tits. A longtime fantasy involving my seriously hot English comp teacher last year.
But Lori’s, “maybe you could show me” comment persists, and soon I’m coming into my hand with the image of her soft lips wrapped around me.
5
Lori
A week later, instead of joining Caleb and Annika on another river trip on my day off, I spend it recovering from nineteen bee stings after a nature walk went wrong the day before. This is a major blow because I’ve been thinking about Caleb nonstop since the Rogue Canyon trip. Every day, I replay our little interlude at the back of the Suburban. That and the feel of his calloused hand in mine. Every time I think about it, shivers race over my skin.
Fortunately, only a few campers got stung by the bees, meaning I must have been the one who stepped on the nest. How was I supposed to know not to step off the trail at that spot?
Luckily, Annika was in the back of the line, but she took one look at my rapidly swelling face and started barking orders to get me to the clinic.
Though my reaction wasn’t life threatening, the doctor suggested I lay low for a day and not overexert myself.
“You sure you can’t come?” Annika says from the edge of our cabin door before heading out to join her brother and the others.
My whole body throbs. Even the places that didn’t get stung burn. And my face is still swollen, making my eyes look sunken, like one of those Cabbage Patch dolls.
“No, I’m going to take an oatmeal bath in the staff bathroom, drink a gallon of water, and read my book.”
She gives me a concerned glance. “I’ll bring you some cookies, okay?” On every day off, she disappears, returning with goodies she makes at home. She says she does it for her younger siblings, but she must make extra. Last week it was those peanut butter cookies and her “squaw bread” we used to make sandwiches. I wonder what she’ll bring today.
“Say hi to Grady and Caleb for me,” I say.
She cocks her head. I haven’t told her I have the hots for her brother, but I wonder if she can read my mind.
Am I stupid for thinking he could be my summer fling?
Though how am I going to get this to happen when I’m stuck in camp today? I suppress a groan.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see them on the Third and Fourth of July,” she says, sliding her backpack onto her back.
A thrill races through me. On the third of July, White Cloud Rafting throws a huge party. Then, on the Fourth, the town of Penny Creek has a parade, a 5K race, a carnival, the whole small-town shebang. We get an extra day off camp duties, too, so I’ll be able to fully enjoy the festivities, fireworks, and what’s likely to be a late night.
I imagine Caleb and I making it a late night.
Fireworks sizzle in my stomach.
“Text me if you need anything,” Annika adds, then slips through the door.
The staff bathroom is in the main lodge, on the second floor. Most of us don’t bother visiting it. We use the common bathrooms at off hours, like late at night or early in the morning. But the staff bathroom has the only bathtub. I lock the door and run the water—lukewarm, otherwise it’ll irritate the stings—and add the oatmeal bath packet recommended by the pharmacist.
I stack my towel and clean clothes then check the lock one more time before I undress in the chilly room. When I peel off my sports bra, I wince. There’s a new welt from the band, under my armpit. It must have happened on the nature walk. The welt burns in the water for a moment, then settles to a dull throb. My stings also subside. After my half-hour soak during which I read my WWII spy novel, I start to feel normal again.
I put my book down and wash my hair, then arch my back to rinse. My breasts react to the cold air, my nipples tightening painfully.
Shea loved my boobs, so much so I started to like them, too. Almost. Or at least I started to understand how good they could feel. When we made out, I would get so turned on I’d be gasping for breath. If only I hadn’t been so shy about taking the next step. I should have explored more. I should have told him what I liked. So what if I didn’t love him? You don’t have to love someone to have sex. People do it all the time.
I get the feeling Caleb fits into this category, and immediately, my mind swoons. Those gray-blue eyes of his, gah! Mischievous, playful, but also stern when he’s serious. And don’t get me started on his body.
Tingles spread over my skin and my thighs give a little jolt, pressing together.
Sometimes, after Shea took me home, I would lie in my bed and touch myself, then feel frustrated afterwards. Why didn’t I let him keep trying?
I look around the wood-paneled staff bathroom and wonder how naughty I’d feel doing that in here. I giggle. No way, not here.
I force my attention back to my book, but the story takes a tantalizing turn when the spy takes the heroine to bed. It’s one of the reasons I love this author, because beside a thrilling plot, there’s always a few short, uber hot sex scenes. My heart races as I read through the juicy parts, imagining what it might be like to be touched and pleasured like my heroine.
Would Caleb kiss me like that? Would I scream his name or is that just a fantasy?
A shudder passes through me.
I put the book down and close my eyes. My breasts are aching, the nipples poking out of the water like periscopes. Unable to stop myself, I caress each one, swirling, then gently pinching. Between my legs, desire thunders to life, so powerful it aches.
Maybe if I take care of myself, I can get Caleb out of my mind.
I’m so going to hell for this, I think as I dip my fingers into my folds.
I lose myself in the sensations, driven on by some kind of crazy need, until my hips are rocking and I’m clenching my lips shut to contain my cries.
When it’s over I blink up at the ceiling and wait for my heartbeat to calm. I suppress another giggle. Yep, headed for hell in a handbasket.
But as I climb out of the tub and the water drips down my body, it feels like Caleb’s hands skimming down my sides. What would his lips feel like on my skin?
So much for getting him out of my mind.
After dressing and packing my things plus giving the bathroom a quick sprucing, I unlock the door and step into the breezy hallway. My still-wet hair is wrapped up in a towel—I’ll blow it dry in the camper’s bathroom, so I don’t monopolize this one.
I peer both ways down the hallway to make sure the coast is clear, though I shouldn’t have to worry about Hans—I saw him leave camp t
his morning—then take the path past the flagpole to the lake edge. A breeze skims the surface of the water, and I inhale its mineral scent while following the dirt path toward the girls’ cabins.
The sudden sound of footsteps approaching makes me spin.
I’m expecting Hans, but instead, it’s Caleb sprinting toward me.
“Oh, good,” he says, sounding breathless. “I was hoping that was you.”
My face heats to nuclear because ten minutes ago I was imagining his lips wrapped around my nipple.
Thank God he’s not a mind reader.
“I heard about the bees,” he says, looking concerned.
That I’m standing here in a pair of sweatpants and a faded long-sleeved t-shirt, my hair in a towel and my face puffy while he looks drop-dead gorgeous in two-day scruff, a t-shirt that seems to outline every edge of muscle, and his tanned limbs with that golden man-fur I’m longing to touch, wipes every thought from my mind.
He doesn’t seem disturbed by my mute reaction because he adds, “I brought you this,” and holds out a small tub of what looks like lip gloss.
Curious, I pluck it from his hands.
“It’s witch hazel,” he says. “Family recipe.”
“You made this?” I ask, trying to reconcile hot raft guide with natural plant alchemist.
He shakes his head. “My mom does.” A pained look passes through his eyes, but it’s gone before I can make sense of it. “Put it on the stings. Annika said they were ground bees, right? This’ll help.”
I’m momentarily blown away. “You came out here to give me this?”
He grins, and my heart flutters up my throat.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Annika should have remembered,” he says gruffly.
“Sorry I can’t come today,” I say, then hold in my gasp. Holy moly did I really just say that?
He shoves his hands in his short’s pockets while his eyes flash with a spark of mischief.
Oh, my stars. Does he know how dangerous he looks right now?
“You can come another time,” he says.
It’s like the ground has suddenly tilted because I’m hopelessly tumbling into space.
“Yeah,” I manage.
