“Is this canyon younger than the real Grand Canyon?” I ask. “Since it’s not as deep?”
“Duh,” K. J. says from behind me. I pretend I haven’t heard her, keeping my eyes focused on Johan instead.
He smiles, happy to answer yet another question. “This canyon is believed to be somewhere around ten to fourteen thousand years old, while the actual Grand Canyon is millions of years old.”
He jabs a thumb behind him. “But the Lower Falls, which you see over there, as well as the Upper Falls were created approximately ten thousand years ago when a large glacial ice dam in Hayden Valley burst and flooded the canyon.”
“Wow,” I whisper, not so much impressed with the information as I am with Johan’s knowledge of it. Smart, sexy, and athletic—the perfect trifecta.
“All right,” he says to our small group. “We’ll take a short break here if you all want to get some pictures or take a breather before we head back.”
Everyone scatters, some moving to take photos of the Lower Falls, others finding a place to sit and pull off their backpacks. There’s a husband and wife pair, a fifty-something man and his son, an older lady who looks like she hikes as much as Johan does, and then K. J. and me. I opt to stick close to Johan.
“So how long have you been a tour guide here?” I ask as I pull my water bottle from my backpack. What I’m really trying to figure out is how old he is. He can’t be more than twenty-three or -four, if I had to guess.
“This is my second year,” he says, pushing a swath of his chin-level, gold-blond hair to the side. He takes a bite of jerky, and I try not to stare as he chews. Even his jaw muscles flex in a sexy way.
“Summer job?” Maybe he’s a college student.
“Nope, I work here year-round. During the tourist season, anyway.”
“Ah.” I take a sip of water and gaze back at the falls. I guess this place was aptly named—it’s like a picture-perfect painting with the sides of the rocky canyon framing the gigantic waterfall. The air is so fresh. I wish I could bottle some up and take it back home with me.
“So what do you do?” he asks.
I can’t tell if he’s genuinely interested or just trying to make conversation. “I just graduated actually. I’m going to the University of Arkansas in the fall. On a soccer scholarship.”
He nods, looking impressed. “Cool. I did one year of college, but it wasn’t for me. It was more to make my parents happy.” He finishes off the jerky and takes a swig of water from his own bottle. “I love my job here. Couldn’t ask for anything better.”
“That’s great.” I wish I had something more intelligent to add, but nothing comes to mind. “Well,” I say after several seconds of awkward silence, “I guess I should get some pictures of this place before we leave.”
“For sure.”
As we’re starting back down the trail, the older woman, Sue, catches up with Johan, asking him something about tomorrow’s hike. I slow my pace, not wanting to appear too eager to stay near him.
“You like him, don’t you?” K. J. whispers near my ear.
“It’s not like there’s anyone else here to talk to,” I mutter.
“Sure there isn’t.”
I turn just enough to catch sight of her sly smile. She’s so freaking irritating. Sue has paused to take a photo, so I move up to reclaim my spot near the front of the line. Who cares if K. J. thinks I like him. I’m not going to let her ruin this trip.
By late afternoon, we’ve finished our day’s hike, and the van takes us to the Old Faithful Inn, a humongous old log cabin with three floors and a giant rock fireplace in the center. It’s pretty amazing. After we have a look around the giant foyer, Johan tells us to get checked into our rooms and then meet him in the adjoining restaurant by six for dinner.
“They have superb lamb chops here,” he says, adding that charming smile of his. “I highly recommend them.”
Our small group breaks up, and I check my phone. Four thirty-seven. Perfect—I’ll have plenty of time to take a shower and get cleaned up.
“So what’d you think of the little Grand Canyon?” K. J. asks as we make our way up the stairs toward our room. She trails several steps behind me.
I force as much nonchalance as I can. “It was cool.”
“Lots of nice views, huh?”
Something about her tone tells me she’s not referring to the landscape.
“Sure.” I don’t intend to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s getting to me. Thankfully, she drops the subject.
Our room is rustic-style, but nice, with two log-framed queen beds, matching nightstands, and a distressed, turquoise dresser. A painting of a brown bear hangs above one bed while one with a black bear hangs above the other. We haven’t seen any bears yet, thank goodness, and it wouldn’t bother me if we didn’t at all. Before starting on our hike this morning, Johan explained how to use our bear spray, if needed. K. J. just laughed as if it were all a big joke, but I envisioned myself making a run for it instead of confronting a bear with nothing but a can of spray.
K. J. plops down on one of the beds while I head straight for the shower. It’s not like I really worked up a sweat today, but I’d like to at least wash off the woods and bug spray. By the time I’m out of the shower, K. J. is fast asleep. Perfect, now we don’t have to interact.
I dry and straighten my hair and then reapply my makeup, enjoying the relative peace. After dressing
