Anissa poked in her head, immediately grinning at the sight of Miri in the room with Rafa. “Well, hello!” she said, a little too excitedly. “I can come back if you’re busy.” She was hardly able to contain her smile.
I’m going to kill her.
“Actually,” Miri said, “we were wrapping up.”
He glanced back at her, his eyes like lasers trying to figure her out.
“So we’re good, then, right?” Miri asked, not really waiting for him to say otherwise.
“Yeah, we’re good,” he said, walking to the door and nodding at Anissa as they switched places. “Oh, and, Pringles? To answer your question, yes, Icanimagine it. And I suppose that’s the root of the problem. ’Night.”
Chapter
Thirteen
They were going around incircles. Literally.
It had been two weeks since they’d arrived at Florestacasa, and they were no closer to having discovered the Cidade da Lua.
Or whatever this mesa de pedra Miri had talked about was.
First, critters had ransacked their food supplies, leaving them with little prepackaged food to take on day hikes.
Then, some of the mapping equipment had mysteriously broken.
After that, the red string they’d been using to mark their way like breadcrumbs had seemingly vanished, resulting in significant detours. Fortunately, they’d made it back to Florestacasa that night using GPS.
So, naturally, a day later, the GPS went missing, necessitating a whole new system for tracking their whereabouts.
The following day, a pit viper blocked their path.
And then the rain came.
Round and round they went, each day encountering a new obstacle. All thanks to Rafa.
Well, maybe not the viper. Or the rain.
But everything else was one hundred percent Rafa. His father would be so proud. With each sabotage, Miri grew weary, inching closer and closer to her tipping point (assuming she had one). So why didn’t it feel good? Why did Rafa feel like a sack of shit when he went to bed each night?
“Maybe an animal keeps taking the string,” Anissa chimed in after their fiftieth wrong turn one particularly taxing afternoon.
“Or maybe it’s os protetores,” Rafa followed up with a casual shrug, clutching the bundle of strings deep in his pants pocket. He’d have to remember to dispose of them later.
His comment earned him a perturbed eye roll from Miri before she pressed onward. Perturbed or not, however, her simple acknowledgment of his existence sent a flutter through his stomach.
Because Rafa was going around in circles, too. Figuratively speaking.
He did somersaults trying to avoid her. He tried to stay away. He really did. But his mind and body had other ideas. He gravitated toward her. Sought out her proximity. Watched her. Photographed her. Itwashis job, after all. For the article, of course. And he had to make sure he stayed on top of the mission. He needed to keep an eye on her, to make sure she hadn’t made some important discovery.
But he knew it was bullshit. The night they’d mutually agreed to end things had done nothing to dissuade his affection. If anything, her ridiculous chatter only further cemented that Miri was special. And that any guy lucky enough to get to spend the rest of his life with her would never grow bored.
It just wouldn’t be him.
He’d traveled the world. Witnessed some of Earth’s most magnificent wonders. Yet none of it was as fascinating—or beautiful—as Dr. Miriam Jacobs.
Miri’s reason for pulling away was unclear. He hadn’t expected that, to be honest. He had thought he’d show up at her room, she’d think he was there to finish what they’d started on the boat, and he would crush her when he informed her instead that they needed to back off. The fact that she almost beat him was a punch deep in his gut.
She’d rejected him.
