Mentally and physically drained, he poured himself out of the side door and hiked his bag up on his shoulder. The humid air accentuated the fact that he needed a shower. Funny, but he’d never really smelled himself before this trip. He blamed Daisy and her fancy shampoos and conditioners and the essential oils she diffused into the air. He smiled, thinking that she made her home beautiful just by being in it. He arched his back. What he wouldn’t give for a night on her couch. Sleeping in airports and going through customs with an automatic weapon pointed at his chest made him feel aged.
“Beckett?” yelled an American boy.
Beckett raised a hand in acknowledgement.
The boy drew closer, and Beckett realized he wasn’t a boy, but he wasn’t much of a man either. “I’m Tray.” He pumped Beckett’s hand. “I’m your translator and liaison with the tribe.” The exuberance of youth and the surety that grew in innocent soil sprinkled across Tray’s face like a smattering of freckles.
“I don’t need a translator; I speak fluent Spanish.”
“Right—but most of the tribe speaks a dialect that’s mostly unknown.” He pulled Beckett’s pack off his shoulder and tossed it over his own. “Car’s this way. Oh, and we’ll be out of cell service in about five steps, so if you have any calls to make, now’s the time.”
Beckett stopped in his tracks. “Satellite phone?” He was planning on talking to Daisy—daily if at all possible.
“If you climb to the top of a mountain, which takes about a week.” Tray’s blond hair fell in his eyes and he combed it to the side.
“Okay, I’ll need a minute.” He retrieved his phone and stared at it. How was he supposed to tell Daisy he couldn’t speak to her for a week or more? He’d promised they could talk, that they’d be in constant contact. Instead of dialing her number, he called his dad. He was listed as the beneficiary and emergency contact on Beckett’s files and he made sure to keep them up to date with his location in case they had to retrieve his body. Gruesome thoughts right before heading into a jungle, but that was his life.
He gave his dad the information and was about to hang up when he said, “I’m glad to see you finally got your head on straight.”
Beckett rubbed his weary eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”
Dad chose not to hear the sarcasm, said goodbye, and hung up.
Beckett slouched. He would never escape that man.
The thought lit Beckett up like a torch shining in the dark of night. He couldn’t escape his dad. No matter how far into the jungle he hiked, no matter which country he stayed in, his dad was always going to be there in one way or another.
“So why am I still running?” he asked no one in particular. Because that’s what he’d been doing. All these years, he’d been running away from home. He didn’t want to run any longer. He wanted to stay, to figure out how to build a home with Daisy.
“Beckett, over here!” Tray waved to him from the bed of a pickup truck. The parts for the new well were safely packed in crates and strapped down to ensure they survived transport on the bumpy roads.
Even though every part of Beckett wanted to be home, holding Daisy, he couldn’t turn his back on these people. The only way to get to Daisy was to go through this project. He dialed her number and the call went straight to voice mail.
“Hi, Daisy, it’s Beck. Which you probably already knew. Listen, I’m going to be out of range on this project. I’m sorry. I’m not sure how long it will take, but I’ll do my best to get back quickly.” He paused, wanting to tell her he loved her and that he was ready to grow some roots, but also not wanting those all-important words to be left on her voice mail. He quickly said goodbye and hung up before hurrying to the truck and hopping in the back.
“Let’s move.” The sooner he got this job done, the sooner he could kiss the woman he loved.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amonth had gone by and still no word from Beckett.
Daisy fumbled through filming a glitter lip tutorial while trying to appear as if she had all the time in the world. She dropped several of the lip tattoos into her large bowl of warm water. Dropping her head to the table top, she groaned. “Today is not my day,” she said into the mic, knowing Vivian would use it for the blooper reel.
This month was not her month. The longer Beckett was gone, the harder it was to find a reason to continue putting one foot in front of the other with this much ache in her soul. She missed him terribly and her heartache affected her work. With each passing day, she came to understand that this was not the life for her. And if this was not the life for her, then Beckett was not the man for her life.
Her door burst open, scaring the living daylights out of her. She jumped and then glared at the lens. Might as well fill the blooper reel this morning.
Vivian clutched a paper in her hand; with her other hand she dragged Jason into the room. “You’re not going to believe these numbers!” Vivian’s voice went up and up in pitch until she was screaming.
Jason moaned and collapsed onto Daisy’s bed, landing facedown. He reached up, grabbed a pillow, and pulled it over his head to block out his mom.
Good luck, kid.
Vivian bounced around the room. “Here.” She thrust the paper into Daisy’s hand. Daisy scanned the views/sponsors report that covered how many people watched Beck’s Blooper Reel, as they’d dubbed the newest episode, and the corresponding sponsorship money. His other episodes were trending nicely and they’d decided to put together a bonus video to keep interest alive.
Vivian had done all the editing and creative work, saving Daisy from looking at his handsome face. She was still trying to wrap her head around him taking off like a shot with one sweet kiss and a closet full of clothes left behind. She’d oscillated between giving them to the needy and wearing his T-shirts to bed. He’d left in her darkest hour and therefore damaged her trust in him as a boyfriend.
Daisy’s hands began to shake. “It’s been up for an hour.”
