He grins and points to a guy wearing a collared shirt and name tag. “I take it you were lost in the land of social media?”
“Something like that.”
The guide introduces himself and reviews the cavern rules, but my mind drifts. I sneak a glance at Miles, who stands next to me, listening intently.
Oh, the irony.
He looks well-rested this morning. No bags under his eyes. No sleep-mussed hair.
I give him a slow once-over. The man looks good in a suit, but he looks even better out of it. With his fitted jeans and cozy, half-zip fleece, he looks like he just stepped out of a Patagonia ad. And why is he so buff? It’s not like he goes to the gym. I’d know, since I am—no,was—responsible for paying his bills.
It’s like he doesn’t even have to try.
Life’s just easier when you’re one of the pretty people.
It’s the ultimate inequity.
“Can you believe this was one of Jesse James’s hideouts?” he whispers, breath warm against my ear. “Talk about living your best life.”
I turn to him, smiling wide. “You aspire to join a gang and rob banks in your old age?”
“I meant living in a giant cave, smartass.” He chuckles and bumps me with his shoulder. “It’s the stuff of childhood dreams.”
Well, that explains his easy adjustment to life on the road.
Because despite complaining about the food and suffering the too-small bed in silence, he’s adapted relatively easily. Far more easily than I’d expected, given his normally luxurious lifestyle. It’s like no matter what I do—the panties, the hot dogs, playing the same K-pop songs on repeat—he soldiers on.
“I can leave you behind at the end of the tour,” I offer. “You know, if you’d like to try your luck at cave dwelling.”
“Ha.” We shuffle forward, following the rest of the group into the mouth of the cavern, which is surprisingly well lit. “If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to push me over one of the safety railings.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I grumble, rubbing my arms for warmth. “I read stalactites can be quite sharp.”
“Stalagmites.”
“What?”
“Stalagmites are the ones that grow out of the ground.” He chuckles, and the woman next to me shoots us a dirty look, but Miles doesn’t seem to notice as he whispers, “Tell me you didn’t do your research without telling me you didn’t do your research.”
His voice is low and raspy, and in the semidarkness, it feels…intimate.
Which is sonotthe point.
“I did my research.”
Sort of.
Okay, fine. I may have fallen asleep with my phone in my hand last night, but I was tired. And really, isn’t the point of the tour to learn all this stuff?
“Shh!” I bring my pointer finger to my lips in the universal gesture forSTFU. “I can’t hear the tour guide over all your blathering.”
He shrugs. “You say blather; I say banter.”
His words echo, and the woman next to me, who looks like a total Karen, is now openly glaring at us. It’s impossible to miss, even for Miles.
“I swear, if you get me kicked off this tour,” I whisper-hiss, “you’re sleeping outside tonight.”
He flashes a disarming smile and pretends to zip his lips, which seems to mollify the Karen.
