Does Jennifer thank me? No.

She hollers, “You could at least give a girl some warning! Chicklet could have died.”

“If he fell in, he must have been on the gunwale.”

“He wanted to see!”

I close my eyes.

“You started fast on purpose!”

“It’s rude to gossip!” I roar.

I’ve shamed at least a couple of them, if the ducked heads are any indication. But it’s a shallow victory, because Jennifer is pissed.

The reviews I desperately need?

Just got way worse.

And I can’t even bring myself to give a shit.

Except I have to give a shit. All of us—the five Wilder Brothers—are working together to revamp our business, after our rodeo town became a wedding-and-spa destination—overnight. My oldest brother, Gabe, hired a consultant to guide us. The consultant—Lucy, who is now also my brother’s new girlfriend—decided I should expand my charter fishing business to include other activities.

Like book clubs.

I want Wilder Adventures to rebound. I want it to stay in business. I want it to keep feeding my brothers and my mother and my sister Amanda and her husband and three kids and Gabe’s girlfriend Lucy.

I want it to pay my salary so I can give Justin a good life, even if Justin isn’t mine and I have to do it in secret.

So I have to figure out how a bad boy runs a book club. Or whatever it’s going to take to make my part of the Wilder Revamp a success.

The women are murmuring among themselves now. I can tell it’s bad news even before Jennifer approaches me. She’s been appointed spokesperson, obviously.

“We think you should consider giving us all a discount on tonight’s trip. Fifty percent off.”

I grit my teeth, worried that if I speak I’ll say something I’ll regret.

What I finally say is, “That seems fair.”

She’s only slightly appeased. The wrinkles in her forehead don’t smooth out at all. “You’re lucky we aren’t demanding a full refund. The snacks, the wine, poor little Chicklet, a clogged toilet, and no toilet paper?”

I want to fight back—there was plenty of toilet paper!—but I know it’ll only make the review situation worse.

“I’m sorry,” I say, instead, because my mother taught me the importance of a real apology.

I want to beg Jennifer and her cronies not to trash me in the reviews, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s a lost cause.

The bad reviews will suck, that’s for sure.

But the worst part isn’t the reviews.

It’s what my brother Gabe will say about them.

3

Brody

“What the fuck, Brody?”