Page 14 of Need You
“Nope. But you get to wear these.” He held up a helmet. “And PFDs—personal floatation devices.”
The women didn’t complain, which instantly scored them points in Colt’s book. They got situated in the van and Colt drove a short distance out of town to a launching spot on the river.
“Everyone wear tennis or water shoes and bring sunscreen?” Garner Adventure sent out a check list to anyone who made a reservation.
“Yes,” came a chorus of female voices.
One of the women, a blonde with dimples, popped her head between the two bucket seats up front. “What’s your name?”
“Colt,” he said, and repeated it louder for the others. “And I’ll be your guide today.”
“Are you single, Colt?” the blonde asked, her smile wide and unmistakably flirtatious.
“Single but off limits.” He winked.
“Why?” asked the bride, whose veil had become tangled in her tiara.
“Um, aren’t you getting married?” he teased.
Her eyes twinkled. “I’m not asking for me, silly, but for my beautiful bridesmaids.”
“Because we run a professional operation at Garner Adventure.”
The women booed and Colt shrugged his shoulders. When they got to the river he told them to help themselves to the snacks while he unloaded the raft and paddles. In no time he had everything ready to go and assisted the women with putting on their PFDs and helmets, adjusting straps, making sure everything was on correctly. He gave them a safety talk and a quick lesson on paddling and what to do if one of them fell overboard. He was glad to find out a few of them had white-water rafted before and knew the drill.
“Let’s go,” he said, and they dutifully took their places on the raft while Colt launched them from the put-in and maneuvered a course for the best rapids.
They screamed every time they hit heavy water or a waterfall, giggled when they got hung up on a boulder—which was often because they couldn’t paddle worth a shit—and flirted with him relentlessly. Fending off their advances quickly got tiresome, but he wanted them to have a good time. Lord knew that Garner Adventure trips didn’t come cheap. For that reason, everyone at the company aimed to give the clients their money’s worth. So he worked extra hard to find them the best rapids and flirt back. Just a little.
They broke for lunch and the girls slipped their shorts off to dry in the sun while they lay on the beach in their bikini bottoms. He wanted to take a picture and send it to Win with the message: “Eat your heart out, sucker.” But he resisted. Barely.
“Hey, Colt, you should take off your rash guard,” Dimples called to him, and flashed him a naughty smile.
In unison, the women began chanting, “Take it off, take it off.”
If he did, he’d be looking at a lawsuit. “Not gonna happen, ladies,” he said as charmingly as he knew how.
They got back in the water at one and he spent much of the afternoon fishing his boaters out of the drink. He was pretty sure they fell out on purpose just so he would rescue them. By four they were beat from the sun and asked to go back. He assigned Dimples the job of agile bow, meaning she had to jump out on shore with a line and hold the raft while everyone got out.
“Will you put lotion on my back, Colt?” the bride’s maid of honor, a smoking hot brunette, asked. He rolled his eyes but took the proffered container and did what she asked.
“What about me, Colt?” One of the others batted her eyelashes.
He shook his head. “All right, ladies, enough. Let’s pack up.”
“Not before we get a group picture,” the bride said.
“Everyone get next to the boat and I’ll take it,” he told them.
“No, we want you in the picture, too.”
One of the girls got a selfie stick from her bag in the van. They gathered next to the boat, close enough so everyone would be in the photo.
“On the count of three,” the bride said. “One . . . two . . .”
When they reached the magical number all five women lifted their bikini tops and flashed their tits. And there he was like a dumb-ass, standing in the middle of five topless babes.
“You want me to e-mail the picture to you?” the bride asked him.
He was sorely tempted. If nothing else he’d like to flaunt the photo in Win’s face, but said, “No thanks.”
By the time he got home he was ready for two fingers of Jack and a cold shower. As he turned up the easement road he saw Delaney watering her flowers. Her Tesla was parked on the pad and he silently cursed her. At least he wasn’t on call tonight; Brewster had him covered. Still, she didn’t know that.
He drove to the top of his driveway, parked the truck in the garage, and decided to have a few words with his pesky neighbor.
