ONE
I shivered as the wind brushed against my bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps along my fair skin. The late May breeze was still chilly in Canmore as it spilled from the snowy mountaintops. They were beginning to melt, making the river water high—perfect conditions for white water rafting.
Another chilling breeze caught me as I finished hanging the last poster on the window. Slipping inside the office door of Three Sisters Tours, I decided it was time to change into something warmer. Uniforms that showed tits and ass only worked inside the office.
“What time is the first tour?” Cher, my co-worker, asked from behind the counter. Her long dark hair was tied back in a number of loose braids, weaved with different colored threads, some with beads and others tied off with scraps of fabric.
“Half an hour,” Ali called from her desk. She was the makeshift supervisor when the bosses were out of town, having had something like five years of experience on both Cher and me. Her platinum blond hair contrasted her tanned face, but she wasn’t as sweet as Cher. Ali emanated cold confidence, and after working two years with her I still knew very little about her private life. But she was the perfect leader in lieu of the three sisters who owned the company.
“Where’s the info?” I approached Ali’s desk as she handed me over the clipboard, holding each attendees profile. The first page had a photo that instantly grabbed my attention. Dark hair, slightly lined with silver, eyes that wrinkled at the edges from a deadly half-smile. Darian Hunter, owner of Hunter Logistics. Hmm, a truck driver. I respected anyone who could operate a large power unit, let alone run a fleet of them. And it didn’t hurt that he was hot as hell. I scanned through the other pages quickly reviewing the experience of his employees. They all seemed to be green when it came to rafting. It looked like I had my work cut out for me—but if there was one thing I could handle it was a crowd of boys.
I had worked at Three Sisters Tours with both Ali and Cher the last two years, since arriving in the quiet mountain town of Canmore, Alberta. The town was nestled in a valley on the outskirts of the Canadian Rockies. Where Ali took on more extreme tours like helicopter rides to mountain tops and skydiving, Cher took the natural route hiking clients up the mountainside for an overnight camping trip. Overnights in the wild and falling from the sky were not my idea of a good time. I handled rides on the wild rapids and kayak tours across the lake. I liked to keep my clients wet.
“Have you talked to the sisters about getting us new uniforms?” I asked, still shivering from the cool breeze as I tried to adjust my shirt. Short skirts and tank tops were fine in the summer months, but even then, the mountains never got as hot as my hometown in the prairies. The worst thing was our skirts were actually a scooter—a skirt with built-in underwear. Bend over too far and you gave clients a full-show of your ass. You had no choice but to keep everything down there shaved.
Ali rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Blake. It’s never going to happen. These uniforms sell tours. Plus, they’re good for moving around in. Think of it like a tennis outfit.”
I grumbled. “I don’t play tennis.”
“I like them,” Cher said, pausing to adjust her cleavage showing through the V-neck of her top. “They show off my best assets.”
I frowned as I looked down at my B-cups. Though perky and round, they were no match to Cher’s D’s. No point in comparing—I wasn’t about to get reconstructive surgery to change them. I was content with what I had—naturally dark blonde hair and a lean build from the hours I spent at the gym. It was the only other activity I did outside of work and play.
I glanced up at the clock; half an hour until clients arrived was enough of an excuse to get out of my uniform. “I’m going to get changed into my rafting gear.”
Ali nodded, not looking up from her paperwork and Cher was too enthralled with her phone to notice. I went down the hallway behind the office where the locker room sat between the front lobby and the equipment garage. A row of showers ran along the side of the locker room, offering a warm reprieve from the cold river waters. After the thrill of the ride, the hot shower was one of my favorite places to visit. Nothing like letting the water pour over your aching muscles to let you relax. Clients were usually too shy for the public showers, leaving them all for me.
I stripped off my tank-top and skirt, hanging them in my locker for when I returned to work. Before slipping into my wet suit, I stripped off my sports bra and cotton underwear replacing them with my sports bikini as I checked myself over in the long mirror that hung inside my locker door. No hickies. Thank goodness.
Last night I spent the night with a local snowboarder, Jacques. Though he was a known for his ability to make a girl cum in less than five minutes, I also found he liked to suck other areas of a girl’s body, like inner thighs and toes. It wasn’t that I wasn’t up for new things; I just was incredibly ticklish in those areas. And once I started laughing, any chance of an orgasm was over. And it’s too bad, because I couldn’t remember the last time a guy hit my g-spot.
I slipped into my suit and started zipping it up, quickly checking my phone for messages. Nothing. It’s not that I expected a text from Jacques—his little black book probably took up most of his phone’s storage space—but just once I wished one of my romantic encounters would end up as something longer than one night.
An armada of masculine voices floated into the locker room. Damn, the group was early. I slammed my locker door shut, and turned to meet the tour. Once I crossed the threshold back into the office, I saw a group of young men crowding the counter. All were staring at Cher as she stood in front of them graciously pointing her “assets” in their direction.
“I’m sorry.” Cher flicked her hair over her shoulder and batted her long lashes. “I don’t do the raft tours. I handle the overnight camping trips. If you’re here more than one day, maybe you’d like to join me and get a little dirty.”
Hoots and groans filled the office. I grabbed my clipboard from Ali’s desk and reached the counter in an attempt to save all these boys from blue balls. There would be no “getting dirty” on my rafting ride. I didn’t want Cher to get their hopes up.
A quick count showed that there were only five men here. I double checked my clipboard and confirmed there should be six. Scanning the group again, I noticed a slightly older man was sitting back in a waiting room chair, smirking as he watched the five guys ogling Cher.
I sucked in a sharp breath— it was Mister Darian Hunter in the flesh. That bio photo didn’t do him justice. His dark hair looked as if he just woke up and ran his hands through the smooth waves, letting it fall in a tussled mess of sexy. His jawline was covered in dark stubble, just enough length to make me squeal if his face was between my legs.
A shudder of pleasure jolted between my thighs. Ohmygod. I cleared my throat. “Mr. Hunter,” I called out, leaning against the opposite end of the counter from Cher.
His eyes drifted to me, just as dark and intense as his photo. His smiled extended as he nodded in my direction. As he walked toward me, my eyes quickly scanned him from top to bottom. His long-sleeve t-shirt clung just enough against his body to reveal a chiseled chest. My gaze drifted down to where his buckle sat—dipping with each step as it exposed a tiny trail of hair that stretched below his abs. Instantly a hot blush rose to my cheeks, and I couldn’t contain the smile that jumped to my lips.
“They are kind of funny, aren’t they,” Darian said in a deep voice, leaning against the counter in front of me as he motioned towards his five counterparts. “They look like a pack of starved men, who’ve never seen a woman before.”
A laugh escaped my lips, and I hid it behind my clipboard. It was like he read my mind. His smile stretched wider, revealing a perfect row of white teeth and making his eyes wrinkle at the sides. How old was he? Thirty-five? No, his profile said forty. The latter would only put him just shy of twenty-years my senior. I’d never been with an older man before.
I hurried to stick out my hand and introduce myself before I went off daydreaming any more about him. He might have been sexy with his dark features and trim body, but I still had to act professionally. “I’m Blake. I’ll be your guide for the day.”
“Well, hello Blake.” He nodded and took my hand in his. “I’m Darian Hunter, but I guess you know that don’t you.” I melted as another smile crossed his lips. “These guys are some of my employees. I hope you’re ready for a good time.” His strong grip met mine, and I couldn’t help but glance down at his broad hand and thick fingers and smile. Good time? Maybe with those fingers...
With another blush, I gave him a firm shake, then pulled my hand from his grip. An approving smirk played at the edge of his lips, then he turned away and shouted to the group. “Okay, boys. This is Blake. She’s in charge. I want you all to do everything she asks.” He looked sideways at me and winked. “She’s the boss today.”
“Thank you.” I turned toward the group. “My coworkers Cher and Ali will help all of you get suited for the ride, and I’ll meet you in the garage.”
Hoots and hollers filled the office as Cher let the men in behind the desk. “Follow me, boys.” Her hips swayed as she led them to the locker room, letting the tennis skirt swing just high enough for a tease of skin underneath.
Darian stopped before following the group, and turned to me. “You coming? That’s a lot of boys for one girl to handle.”
“Us girls can handle more than you think.” He raised a curious brow, and I winked. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise.” He nodded, and winked back. “I’ll hold you to your word—I’m all about honesty.” I gave him a confused look, before he turned away and entered the locker room.
“Need any help?” Ali asked as I passed her desk.
I could feel the heat still flushed on my face. “All good.”
She pointed a pen toward me. “You might want to finish zipping up.”
I looked down and saw that my zipper wasn’t zipped all the way to the top, the wet suit forcing my breasts together and making my cleavage look twice as large as normal. My face flushed for the fourth time in the last five minutes—however, this time it was from embarrassment.