Page 6 of Dare to Fall
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, making a mental note to chat with someone who runs this tour before the weekend is over. Never a bad idea to have a backup plan in case I don’t get the Grand Canyon job next summer. It’s highly competitive, and I’m lacking in experience since I took a sabbatical for a couple of years. I may or may not get that one on my first try. And while California sounds nice, I don’t see myself settling there.
I’ve never seen myself settling anywhere, to be honest.
“I’ll see you later this afternoon at the other end of the river,” Fred says, pulling into a gravel lot and parking.
“Fred, you’re all right.” I offer him a smile as I grab my things and hop out of the van. I barely turn around to face the empty lot before he’s driving away.
Fred wasn’t kidding. They must be short-staffed if there’s no one in the lot to greet me. I’d be offended if I didn’t personally understand what a pain in the ass it is to be understaffed on a tour.
A pile of bright orange kayaks stacked near a trailhead reassures me I haven’t been dumped into the wilderness—the irony is not lost on me. But in my defense, I didn’t do anything as diabolic as cheat on my future spouse with her stepsister.
I follow the narrow dirt-packed trail downhill, toward the glorious sound of rushing water.
My entire body calms, all murderous thoughts fleeing.
I stop on the trail, awestruck by the sheer beauty of the mountains. I whip out my phone to take a few pictures. Per the bridal party code, no one is allowed to post anything this weekend. And because I don’t want to tip off Gwen—who is hopefully stranded in Cancun with no one to buy her a first-class ticket home—I’m happy to abide by those rules.
“You the straggler?” a voice calls to me, the hint of irritation in the low baritone somehow familiar.
“I’m notthatlate?—”
My entire body stills when the man rounds the corner on the trail below, revealing himself.
A very,verysexy bearded man.
My favorite!
Is that…
Fuck me.
It’s Tucker Black.
And Tucker Blackisall grown up.
He was a heartbreaker back in his bad boy era during high school, but now? Now he’s fucking lethal. All muscles, tanned skin, scruffy beard, and tattoos.
“Gabriella?”
It’s the way he says my name, like it’s a curse, that snaps me back to reality.
“What areyoudoing here?” I demand.
“Me?” he asks on a chuckle. As though there is anything funny about this situation. It’s been more than a decade since I watched Tucker drive away from our hometown, never to be seen or heard from again. It’s only because of Erin that I knew he wasn’t dead. He went from being my best friend to being a fucking ghost.
“Yeah,you.” I post my hands on my hips, debating whether to call Fred to get me the hell out of here.
“I work here. What about you?”
“I’m…visiting.”
“I heard about Erin,” he says, his tone filled with the compassion I remember all so well. Damn the man for being so…good. Damnmefor taking him for granted all those years ago. For putting him in the friendzone when he never belonged there. Damnhimfor leaving me without any warning that I’d never see him again. Well, until now. But this doesn’t exactly feel planned.
“Want to hop a flight to Vegas and help me dump a body?” I ask, hoping to ease the tension coiling in my chest.
“Maybe another time,” he says, nodding toward the river, his tone serious once again. “C’mon. You’re late.” Before I can rebuttal, he adds in a loud mutter he definitely intends me to hear, “Not that anyone’s surprised.”
He flashes me a quick, fleeting smirk before turning and heading back down the trail.
