Once he had me standing, he didn’t let go. My head spun for a moment, my fingers clasping tight around his forearm, and I shut my eyes. When Hunter’s arm tightened around me, bringing me back against him, I relaxed into the comfort of leaning against his warm muscular frame. For a jungle man, he smelled rather pleasing—like the ocean and the sun, with a hint of citrus.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“No,” I breathed out.
He allowed me time to gather myself. “You need to eat.”
And I needed something to drink. Preferably hard liquor.
My dizziness had passed, and I opened my eyes. “I’m good now. We can go.”
With my arm around his, we shuffled onto the porch.
“We’ll rest when you get tired.” He stopped at the top of a four-step staircase. “Can you make it down? If not, I’ll carry you.”
I whipped my head around so fast to look at him, it took a second for the rest of the world to catch up with my vision. I was weak but I wasn’t totally helpless. “No, thank you, I’ll be okay.”
We gingerly descended, one plank at a time, until we reached a dirt footpath. Hunter pointed to the left and we trudged around the hut, small rocks and wood chips poking at my bare feet, then shuffled past an outdoor kitchen sheltered by a large tarp. The setup was basic: a wooden picnic table, some shelving attached to trees, and a stone fireplace. Icouldn’t make out any other details as we stepped deeper into the overgrown jungle.
I was hyperaware of each point where our bodies touched. It wasn’t a zap of electricity that shot down my spine at how Hunter’s fingers pressed into the skin near my waist or how his gaze was so intent, but a warmth originated in my chest.
It had to be heartburn.
As we slogged down the path, he moved low-hanging tree branches out of the way.
“So,” I said, disregarding the growing pain in my feet, “how long have you been here?”
“I moved to the South Pacific from Atlanta about six years ago. Lived most of the time in Avarua and now here.”
Over one hundred islands and atolls—most of which remained uninhabited—were sprinkled throughout Polynesia, so perhaps this one was close to my original destination.
“Is Rarotonga far from here?”
“About four to five hours depending on weather conditions and the boat.”
For the first time today, joy sprouted inside of me. Bambi hadn’t chartered us on the wrong course after we left Niue. Maybe she had been honest about reading the night skies. Or we just got lucky. Well, not really…
A pointy stone stabbed my foot, and I winced. “Shoot.” I paused and scraped my foot against the dirt until the pebble shook free. “Were my passport and credit cards still inside my lifejacket when you found me?”
“No,” Hunter said.
Well, shit. Getting home would be a double headache.
Hunter stared forward, his brows together as if in deep concentration. The forest thick with tropical trees, various shrubs, and tangled vines resembled a living and breathing creature. My stomach muscles tensed with worry that some danger lurked in the jungle.
“What are you looking at?” I peered up at him and searched for traces of fear or concern on his face. “Is there a tiger or a dinosaur?”
He looked at me, a humorous glint in his eyes. “No dinosaurs.”
“A tiger then?”
“No.” His cheeks creased into a smile. “I was cataloging what materials I have here to pull my boat out of the water.”
Good, at least he had a plan to get a boat. I was one step closer to getting the hell out of here. “And do you?”
“I think so. I’ll check the workshop.” The hut, the kitchen area, and now the workshop. He indeed resided here.
“Why do you live here?” Alone.
