Why wouldn’t he laugh? She must look like a gaping idiot with her mouth hanging open. She snapped her jaw shut. Too late for damage control. The newcomer had already veered right, his full attention captured by the congressman waiting beside the limo.
Shrewd gray eyes bright with pleasure softened the blunt features of Hinsdale’s rugged face as the big man greeted him. “Howdy, stranger. How long has it been?”
“Way too long.” A grin stretched the hottie’s mouth to reveal even teeth. “My parents’ thirtieth anniversary party three—no—four years ago.”
The initial handshake turned into a back-slapping hug. Devin’s boss had mentioned the owner of Wilde Waters Rafting was a family friend. She could only assume from the congressman’s genuine smile, not the effortless one he pasted on for public appearances, that the recipient of the bear hug was Sawyer Wilde.
Walton stepped back and glanced over his shoulder. “Sawyer, you remember my son, Dwight. He’s grown some since you last saw him.”
“Of course.” The rafting guide held out a hand. “How’s it going?”
The congressman’s teenaged son straightened from his perpetual slouch. Dark hair hung in his face but didn’t disguise disdainful brown eyes as he briefly grasped the offered hand. “It’s going.”
Silence descended.
Walton cleared his throat, then motioned to the two additions Devin had been forced to accommodate at the last minute. His brother-in-law and teenaged nephew had been included to boost the family angle and give his campaign more credence with conservative voters.
“Charles, come meet Sawyer Wilde, my godson and our guide for the trip.” The regulation smile flashed again. “His father and I go way back to our college days at the University of Wyoming. Sawyer, this is my brother-in-law, Charles Monahan, and his son, Alex. Charles lives in your neck of the woods, just east of Cody. Maybe you two have met?”
Sawyer shook Charles’s outstretched hand. “I don’t think so. Do you work in Cody?”
“No, I’m in sales, so most of my time is spent on the road, but Wyoming’s my home base.”
The congressman turned on the heels of his sneakers and frowned. “Devin, where the devil…oh, there you are.”
Brushing her fingers down the sides of her spandex running pants, she stepped forward to hold out a hand to the hottie. “I’m Devin Lockhart, the one responsible for flooding your inbox with emails.”
A warm, callused palm closed over hers as moss green eyes scanned her face then dipped lower for a brief moment before returning to meet her gaze. “I appreciate your attention to detail. It made organizing this trip relatively smooth despite all the complications involved with hosting a public figure.”
When he let go of her tingling fingers, she stuffed them in her sweatshirt pocket. “My job is to make things easier for the congressman.”
Walton patted her shoulder. “And she does it so well. Until November rolls around and the votes are counted, my life will be a three-ring circus. Without Devin, I’d be sunk.” His voice lowered. “If these press people try to do anything to tarnish my image, she’ll be all over them.”
One of Sawyer’s brows shot up. “Will things be any better once you’re elected president?”
Hinsdale’s booming laugh echoed through the pine trees. “I like your positive thinking, though I’m well aware chances the people will elect an Independent candidate are slim.”
“Your numbers in the polls are climbing.”
Flinty eyes gleamed. “Yes, they are. We’ll see what happens.” The congressman clapped his hands together. “I’m ready to get this adventure started. When do we shove off?”
“As soon as we load your gear and have a brief talk about safety and what can be expected while we’re on the water. Take a little time to stretch after your drive, have a snack, change if you need to. Temps are expected to warm up considerably.” Sawyer glanced back at Devin. “Maybe you could gather any stragglers and arrange for the whole group to meet me down by the river in about twenty minutes?”
She nodded. “Organizing is what I do best.”
When his gaze perused her from head to toe a second time, her cheeks heated…along with a few more intimate areas. She shifted and crossed feet clad in a pair of old flip-flops.
Bright eyes darkened to match the surrounding evergreens. “Somehow, I doubt organizing is the only thing you’re good at.”
* * * *
Walton’s assistant was hot. Super hot. Not that Sawyer was complaining. Based on her ultra-efficient email correspondence, he’d expected an older woman in a no-nonsense suit and sensible shoes. Not a twenty-something cutie in flip-flops and form-fitting workout pants. The form they fit was definitely curved in all the right places. Devin Lockhart would no doubt make this rafting trip a whole lot more interesting than he’d anticipated.
From the get go, he’d expected a challenging few days. If Dwight’s surly attitude was any gauge, Walton’s son had a chip the size of a bull moose on his shoulder. Sawyer didn’t anticipate any cooperation from that one, but the brother-in-law and nephew seemed likable enough. Sawyer hadn’t met the media team yet. In addition to the congressman’s relatives, the group included a journalist and videographer for Political Spotlight, a national news show. Last, but certainly not least, the only female in the group, the sexy assistant. Seven newbies who’d probably never paddled a raft in their lives, tackling the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. They’d be lucky if everyone survived the trip. There was a reason this particular stretch of whitewater was nicknamed the River of No Return.
Sawyer rolled his eyes. As he’d been told, the sole purpose of this fiasco-in-the-making was to splash Walton’s backwoods adventure across the media in a push for votes, and all his pleas to change the venue to a less challenging river had been summarily dismissed. An email from the assistant pointed out that a leisurely float down tame waters would defeat the whole purpose.
Running a hand through his hair, Sawyer let out a long breath, then went back to packing gear into waterproof containers. His only goal was to get the congressman through six days on the water without mishap. Period. Admiring Devin Lockhart in a bikini—if he was lucky and she chose to wear one—wasn’t out of the question. As long as he wasn’t too distracted from his purpose.
“I take it our guests arrived safely.”
Sawyer glanced up and scowled at his right-hand man. “Where the hell did you disappear to? Roman and I had to haul all the luggage down without you.”
Jon’s weathered face creased in a smile. “Carolyn was giving me a proper send-off. I won’t see her for a week.”
At least someone’s getting a little action. Sawyer had to wrack his brain to remember the last time he’d had any. “You’ve been married, what, three decades?”
“Thirty-one years last June.” His most trusted employee jumped nimbly into the second raft and made short work of storing the remaining gear.
Despite the fact he was past sixty, Jon Berry was more agile than most men half his age. He’d retired early after making a fortune in the stock market, only to be bored senseless with nothing to occupy his time. On a Wilde Waters trip through the Grand Canyon, Jon had handed Sawyer a handwritten list of reasons why he should hire him as a river guide. Amused by the man’s brashness, he’d agreed, and never once regretted the decision.
“Your wife isn’t tired of you by now?”
Hazel eyes twinkled beneath bushy gray brows that matched a full head of hair. “Not even close. You should find a nice lady to settle down with instead of spending all your off-water time alone. Maybe