“Joseph sent you, didn’t he? Sheesh. I get some bad kindling once …” I tease, grateful for the change in topic.
She grins. “Possibly. He’s just finished gutting some fish and was wondering how the fire was coming along. Since Bill and I finished cleaning the ‘utensils’ already, I thought I’d come see if you needed any help.”
I blow out a breath. “I can sew two strips of fabric together to make a woman sparkle and can keep you up to date on any current events, but finding the best type of kindling for a fire is not my forte.”
Maria stretches her arms wide. “Cinderella, meet your fairy godmother. I happen to know a thing or two about kindling.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Maria, you are the sweetest pea.”
It doesn’t take long before Maria suggests we give up on the soaked leaves and twigs on the ground and start looking in the trees for bits and pieces of semidry bark that we can burn—but even those are few and far between.
“So, how was your night last night?” she asks.
I snatch the barest amount of peeling bark from a nearby tree and look her way. “It was good.” She should know; she was right by my side for most of it. “And how was yours?”
“Oh, I don’t think my night matters as much. I find other people’s far more interesting.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “And why is that?”
“Missy, I’ve had insomnia my whole life, which means I get to observe all that goes on in this game, whether it’s day or night.” She gives me a knowing look.
Oh no.I try to force a nonchalant laugh, but instead I end up gurgling awkwardly.
Maria waggles her eyebrows, then simply turns around and continues her kindling search as if she didn’t just call me and Colton out for sneaking away last night. Out of anyone on this island, I knew Maria had seen right through our charade from the moment I batted my eyes at Colton over my palm fan.
But the look she just gave me makes me wonder if she truly thinks things have blossomed between us. But isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t a relationship what Colton and I are trying to convince everyone of?
Something inside me tells me that it’s only good if I am truly faking it. I picture Colton’s lips so close to mine. Why do I wish that I hadn’t pulled away? What if I, Missy Jean Jones, had let Colton in instead of pushing him out? Would we have kissed? Would I have liked it? What would that mean for us? And why do I want so badly to find out?
I shake my head. Last night was probably some strange way Colton was getting us into character for the parts we needed to play. I know he wants to win. But then again, would he really go as far as a kiss behind the cameras? Yes, yes, he would. Years of trying to one-up each other would stand by me on that. But on the flip side, he’d been so sincere last night. The way he’d wrapped his personal blanket around my shoulders, pulled me into him when I cried, and by golly, that boy had held onto a glow-in-the-dark star of mine for nearly a decade because he’d believed it had luck. Those aren’t the signs of someone who isplaying games with hearts. But my heart’s been broken too many times, and I can’t risk it getting shattered once more.
“I lost you again,” Maria says, stepping by my side, her pointed stare seeing right through me. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”
This time, I don’t answer, letting the silence do the talking for me as I scratch off a penny’s worth of bark from a tree.
Maria pats me on the shoulder before stepping away. “Oh, Mija, I see more than you know.”
Minutes later, Maria calls to me from farther up the path. “Missy, look at this.”
I walk up to meet her and find she’s holding out a remarkably dry branch with copper-colored bark. It’s no match for the scraggly bits of kindling I’ve gathered so far.
My eyes widen as I examine Maria’s new find. It seems untouched by the rain, making it about as rare as salted steak fries on this island.
Maria places her smaller bits of kindling on some lava rock and holds the branch in both hands. “I found it wedged in the crook of this tree. The leaves must have protected it from getting wet. It’s perfect, right? Does it look good to you?”
I nod. “I think so.”
Maria points to the splintered and exposed interior of the branch. “It’s not only dry, but it has a high content of resin, making it nice and flammable. It’s got the perfect capacity to start an excellent fire.”
“Wow, you really do know your kindling. It looks fantastic,” I say, beaming.
But instead of adding the branch to her little stack of kindling, she tosses it to the ground.
My brows knit together. “What are you doing?”
“Throwing away a perfectly good thing.”
I narrow my eyes. “And why are we throwing away a perfectly good piece of kindling?”
