I shoot a video of the beach with my phone, slowly turning a full circle to get all angles while I narrate. “This is the beach on the south side of the island. You can see the path that leads to the villa over here. I’m guessing you’ll want to avoid filming the dock, but otherwise, this would probably be a good place to drop the contestants.”
I shut it off and carry on walking, my feet sinking into the soft sand, making each step an effort. I turn back to make sure Theo is with me only to discover he’s directly behind me. I catch a whiff of his aftershave, which is probably made from baby dolphins or something equally evil and expensive. Whatever it is, it smells sinfully delicious. Like so good, I’m tempted to knock him out so I can sniff his neck for a couple of hours.
His outfit looks like something straight out of a J.Crew catalog. It’s a little too put together, and I entertain a vision of him in a high-end department store, telling a clerk he wants something that says “active and outdoorsy but also rich.” That’s so him. Blech.
The beach curves right, and when we get around to the other side, two houseboats gently bob side by side offshore.
“Whose are those?” Theo asks.
“The resort’s,” I answer with absolutely no enthusiasm. “The bigger one is for the housekeeper and butler, who are married to each other. The other one is for the island’s chef. I understand it’s basically a kitchen with a bed.”
Lifting my phone, I make a quick video of the boats, explaining that all food prep can be done on the houseboat.
“Should we go meet the staff? To see if they have any questions about the challenge?”
Shaking my head, I say, “They’re not here. They go back to Santa Valentina when there are no guests.”
“Oh.”
I can’t help but wonder if he’s working out the fact that we’re alone here. “Let’s keep going. We have a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time.”
We hike through the jungle for the next hour in silence, other than the odd comment made by one or the other of us. Things like “is that a mango tree?” and “I’d say yes, based on the mangoes hanging from it.”
When I spot something that could possibly be used to make a cocktail, I take photos, video, and note the location. Other than the mangoes, I’ve found wild basil, peppermint, and jackass bitters. When I’m finished documenting the jackass bitters, I point to them. “Do you use these in any of your liquors?”
“Why? Because you think I’m a jackass?”
Don’t say yes. He’s the most VIP of all the VIP guests you’ve had to handle.“Because they might add a new flavour. You’d have to use the tiniest bit and blend them with a few things that would offset the level of bitterness, but they’d also be fun to market.”
“Huh, that’s actually not a bad idea.”
“I have them occasionally,” I say, continuing on.
I’m taking a couple shots of a tall fruit tree when he says, “What’s that one called?”
“Soursop. The contestants are in luck that the fruit is in season. It could make for a very interesting cocktail actually,” I say, forgetting all about how much I hate him. “It smells sort of like a strawberry but tastes like a combination of a coconut, mango, citrus fruit, and banana all blended together.”
We gaze at each other a moment too long before I remember I can’t stand him, and if I had to guess, I’d say he remembered he hates me right back, based on his change of expression. I clear my throat. “We should get back to the beach. Justin should be back soon.”
“Right, yes.”
We start down the mountain in silence. The air has grown heavy and still in the way it does before a big storm. Through the thick veil of trees, I can’t see enough of the sky to know if the clouds are growing near, but I assume they are. By the time we reach the beach, I’m so hot, I want to run straight into the water, clothes and all.
A swell of black clouds pushes into the sky above us. I jog, legs exhausted from the last couple of hours and hoping Justin’s at the dock waiting for us.
We round the curve, only to see an empty dock. No Rogue Fun. No nice Justin to rescue us from each other. We are very much still alone.
A deafening crack of thunder makes me cringe, charging the air and causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand straight up. A couple of miles offshore, lightning flashes, hitting the ocean in several places at once. Seconds later, sheets of rain pour down, drenching us in cold, needle-sharp drops.
“What do we do?” he asks.
“We need to get to the villa!” I shout over the rain. “So we can call for help.”
Turning back the way we came, I run to get under cover of the forest.
“We’re going to have to haul ass before that lightning gets here,” Theo yells, and we pick up our pace to a quick jog.
After about thirty seconds, I’m sucking serious wind. We’re not only going uphill, but the path is covered with soft debris from the trees and shrubs, making it thick and spongy, and within minutes, it’s so slippery it makes each step harder and more dangerous. My lungs burn, and I’m tempted to stop and flop onto the ground to catch my breath, but another clap of thunder has me speeding up instead.
