The Secret Sin. Darlene Gardner

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       R YAN had expected Annie to avoid him when he showed up for the Saturday morning white-water trip. He hadn’t anticipated she’d be a no-show.

      In his experience, the person in charge tended to at least be on-site during the busiest times of the week. Unless, of course, there was a good reason for her to stay away.

      Like a man she clearly wished would leave her alone.

      Letting Annie dodge him, however, was the one thing his conscience would no longer allow him to do.

      He waited until the few dozen rafters who were taking the morning trip had boarded the bus and he was the only one left in the shop before approaching the long-haired kid at the counter.

      “When’s the next white-water trip?” Ryan asked.

      “Two o’clock.” The kid didn’t bother to point out that Ryan had arrived in plenty of time to take the first one.

      Ryan stuck out a hand. “Ryan Whitmore.”

      Looking suspicious of a customer who introduced himself, the kid took a few moments before he shook Ryan’s hand. “Jason Garrity.”

      “You been working here long, Jason?” Ryan asked.

      One of the fans behind the cash register blew a lock of Jason’s hair into his eyes. He tucked it behind his ear, his fingers brushing against his gold stud earring. “About a month. You want me to sign you up for the afternoon trip?”

      So much for small talk. “That depends on who’s guiding the trip.”

      “It’ll probably be Annie,” Jason said. “She usually does the morning run but she switched off today.”

      “When did she do that?” Ryan leaned one of his forearms on the counter as though he was only casually interested in the answer.

      “Last night, I think,” Jason said. It had probably been right after Ryan had mentioned his interest in the trip. “Jill—she’s one of our other guides—showed up here pretty early to take her place.”

      Ryan glanced at the wooden wall clock, which was shaped like a fish. At shortly past ten, it wasn’t early anymore, but the little house behind the shop where Annie lived had looked suspiciously quiet. Lindsey might still be asleep but it didn’t make sense that Annie would be. “Do you know where Annie is?”

      “Yeah,” Jason said. “She took a mountain bike out on the trail.”

      “Which trail?”

      “The one with the view of the river, out past where the cars are parked,” he said.

      “Any idea when she’ll be back?” Ryan asked.

      “I don’t know.” Jason frowned at him. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

      “I guess I do,” Ryan acknowledged and left it at that. He slapped the counter once with the palm of his hand and headed out the door. “Thanks.”

      He sat down at one of the outdoor tables outside the shop that were set up for rafters waiting for the trips to leave. He situated himself so he had a view of the bike trail, stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his chest.

      Annie might have avoided having him along on one of her white-water trips, but she couldn’t evade him forever. Sooner or later, she’d ride her bike back to the river rafters.

      When she did, he’d be waiting.