“But should we leave the plane? What if someone spots it and they come to rescue us?”
Mac chews on his lip for a second. “I’ve thought about that. We leave a note detailing where we’re going.”
I stare up at the mountain that rises in the center of the island. It’s impossibly tall and dense with brush. The idea of climbing it is more than a little intimidating. I glance to the right, and notice that the plane is sitting near a sharp curve on the beach. “I don’t know. What if we try just walking around the bend to see what’s there? It’s flat, it’s literally just a few hundred yards, and who knows? Maybe there’s a village there or something?”
He shakes his head. “There aren’t any towns on any ofthe islands out here. It’ll just be more beach that way, and we’ll have wasted precious energy.”
“Okay,” I tell him, nodding. “Up it is.”
“It’s our best shot.”
Half an hour later, we’ve eaten, written a note, and Mac’s got a backpack on filled with water, protein bars, first aid supplies, matches, the flare gun, and a big knife. I’m dressed in a pair of shorts, an oversized tee, and some running shoes. I power off my cell phone and pocket it, just in case we can get a signal at the top of the mountain.
“You ready?” Mac asks.
Nodding, I do my best to seem confident, even though I have my doubts that I’ll be able to make it even halfway to the top.
He turns toward the trees and I follow him, wishing we were already there. It’s seriously hot as balls already and it’s still early morning.
“So, do you do a lot of hiking?” I ask him, huffing and puffing already, even though we’re still on the flat part of our walk. It’s sand, which makes it harder, but still, not huffing and puffing hard.
“Not really,” he says. “You?”
“Never. Unless you count taking the stairs to get in and out of the subway.”
“Yeah, I don’t count that.”
“Have you ever been to New York?”
“Nope. Not exactly my kind of place,” he says, adjusting the straps of his backpack.
We reach the trees, and he chooses a narrow opening to start the ascent into the shady jungle that immediately feels cooler than the beach. “Oh, you can’t say that if you’ve never been there. New York has something for everyone.”
“Not me. I’m not a city guy. Too many people.”
Of course he’s not a city guy. That makes perfect sense. “It’s not just a city. It’sthecity. The center of the universe. You can get anything you want there. You can see the best Broadway shows starring the biggest stars. Dine at the world’s finest restaurants. You can literally find anything you want to eat anytime, day or night.” My gaze lands on his butt, which is impressively round, even in his cargo shorts.Okay, stop staring at his great ass.
“I don’t need to eat anything I want twenty-four hours a day. I eat at normal meal times and sleep when it’s time to sleep,” he says. “I also don’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of maniac drivers, all in too much of a rush to care if they kill someone.”
I consider his words for a second. “Has anyone ever told you that you sound like an old man?”
He stops and turns. I expect him to be annoyed but he just gives me a satisfied smile. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“That’s because you haven’t figured life out yet. Old people know what’s important—a good night’s sleep, getting up early to start your day, cooking a meal with fresh ingredients from your garden.”
“You have a garden?” Of course he has a garden.
“Yup. I grow all kinds of veggies and herbs. I have mango and plum trees, and I just planted a dragon fruit tree, but it won’t bear fruit for a few years.”
“Wow, I would not have guessed that about you on spec.”
“What did you think I would have in my yard?”
“I don’t know, nothing. Like some weeds maybe. Or I suppose I would’ve thought you live in a loft-style apartment, the kind where you have a service elevator that opens directly into it and you ride your motorbike in and park it next to your sofa.”
He stops and turns around, looking perplexed. “Geez, New York, it sounds as if you’ve been thinking a lot about me.”
