With my toiletries and towel in hand, I followed him, mentally mapping out the island, orienting what was where. We went in the opposite direction from the outhouse, passing a small open area with clothes hanging on a line stretched between trees, and two small birds balanced on the wire. I recognized my white T-shirt with “Mind The Gap”that Tina bought me several years ago from London.
The path meandered through a tangle of tree ferns, flowering bushes, palms, and hardwoods with twisting brown roots. The bamboo piping system carrying water ran above our heads, propped up by timber, or fed through tree branches. Hunter walked at a slow pace with his back ramrod straight, from time to time moving large leaves out of our way and holding them until I passed. About three hundred feet from the hut, the walkway opened at the mountain’s base.
My bare foot stepped on a rock, and I yelped.
Hunter paused, turning to check on me. “You okay?”
I hopped on one foot, brushing off a pebble. “Yes.”
“I totally forgot,” Hunter said. “I found shoes for you.”
“My shoes?”
“No. My uncle collected everything that turned up on the beach. I do the same. I have piles of washed-up junk, including an assortment of different shoes. Last night, I picked some out for you. Not a pair but they are similar in size and style.”
A teeny-tiny bit of gratitude for marine pollution passed in my mind. I was not proud of that. I lived my entire life in Miami, and even though I wasn’t the most eco-friendly person, I participated in organized beach clean-ups. Every time I went to the beach, I brought a garbage bag to collect whatever I found. And now I was grateful for trash.Yep, definitely going to hell.
We maneuvered through a break in a stone barrier overgrown by vines (I kept my eyes on the ground to dodge another mean stab), and came out to a waterfall framed by lush plants, plunging into a crystal-clear pool so loud it drowned out the murmuring ocean. Brightly colored flowers of different shapes and sizes were embroidered into the greenery. We stood in complete and total splendor.
“It’s so beautiful here,” I said, taking an awed breath.
“The world’s best shower comes with only one temperature setting.” Hunter planted his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels. “But you’ll get used to it.”
I looked up at him. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the Neanderthal lifestyle.”
“Cavemen didn’t have coffee and eggs for breakfast.”
“You sure look like a caveman with all that.” I motioned at his face.
Hunter rubbed his cheek. “You don’t like my beard?”
“It’s great if you want to join ZZ Top. You’d fit right in.”
“I think you secretly like it.”
“I assure you, I don’t,” I said, trying to sound stern, but my stupid mouth betrayed me and pulled up at its corners.
A teasing glimmer played in his eyes. I should have rolled mine back at him, but looking away from his blue gaze was impossible. The scruffy look wasn’t my favorite, even if Tina proclaimed that beards were hot, and that it added a certain tickle when—well, never mind where the man’s face was.
Hunter pointed to the right of the waterfall. “There’s a nice flat rock where you can set your stuff, and there is a smooth entrance into the lake next to it. I’ll meet you by the house.”
Once he was gone, I dropped everything on the rock and removed my shorts first and the shirt but kept my bikini on.
I dipped my toe into the water, and goosebumps stippled the skin up my leg. As I went knee-deep into the lake, painful prickles spread all over me—another rude awakening. If Hunter’s boat was unfixable, this was my bath for the next few weeks in the best-case scenario.
My hands worked hard and fast, scrubbing my body with soap and stripping days of grime, sweat, and ocean salt. I squeezed a hefty amount of shampoo into my palms and massaged it into my hair, trying not to gag at the coconut scent but enjoying the feel of my nails digging into my scalp. And then I had to do something Ireallydidn’t want to do. Holding my breath, I hurried farther in until the water was chest-high and submerged myself. A few seconds of brutality. There was no other way to describe it.
By the time I squeezed the last drop out of my thick hair, my teeth chattered, and my skin had a bluish tint. I was a five-foot-five-inch popsicle. Drying off, I changed into the clean clothes and collected my belongings. I paused with the shampoo in my hand. I usually washed my hair every other day, and this bottle wouldn’t last me long. The amount I used a few minutes ago was a colossal waste. I should be more mindful since we didn’t have a store to run out to to get more. At least I didn’t need to worry about tampons. I lifted my face skyward, sending small thanks to my OB-GYN for talking me into getting an IUD.
On the way back, I threw the wet towel and bikini over the wire. In the kitchen, a calico cat—must be Monday—rested on a bench and licked his outstretched leg. He gave me the once-over, one ear turned to the side, and resumed his bathing.
Hunter stood before a small mirror attached to a tree near running water. Foam covered half his face as he carefully ran a straight razor against his skin. He cocked his head to the side to shave his strong neck. I remained motionless, watching him as if he were an exotic animal, my eyes wandering the broad planes of his back. A wave of heat swept through me. To me, broad shoulders and a strong back were like cleavage to a man. I could stare at it until someone told me I was rude.
Hunter wiped his face with a wet towel and turned to me. My focus was everywhere at once. And, well, shoot.
His jawline was sharp, and his attractive mouth had soft-looking, reddish-pink, inviting lips. He was so damn striking I wanted to high-five his mom.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hunter traced his hand on his face. “Do I still have some foam?”
