Hank starts searching the bush, too. “Berries and flowers seemed sufficient when I thought rescue was around the corner. But you’re right. I’m a bit… famished.”
I glance up at the clear sky. “Whatever happens with the weather, we can have a fire at the shelter today.”
“The fiddlehead ferns might be ready soon,” Hank adds. “They’d be delicious cooked in a clam shell.”
My mouth salivates just thinking about it. When my stomach pangs in response, I place my hand over my belly and sit back, weak.
Hank hands me a shriveled berry. I place it on my tongue and keep it there, sucking a little.
“I’ve thought more about last night,” Hank says.
I nod. “I’ve been thinking, too, about what you said.”
Hank holds my eye while a chipmunk scurries behind him. “We have a connection,” he says. “And you’re right. It’s hot, and there’s little good reason here on the island to ignore that. But we need to be explicit about a few things before we continue.”
“Sure,” I agree. “Like what?”
“Like making certain that this doesn’t come back to ruin my career, or your relationship with your father.”
I frown. “I think we’d be a little late to ruin that.” Hank gives me a sympathetic nod, and I continue. “But yes, I’d much prefer he never learn about this.”
He’d probably find a way to humiliate me in front of Hank.
Hank nods, satisfied by that. “And you’re sure I’m not…” He rubs his beard, looking for the words. “I’m not taking advantage of you in dire circumstances?”
I laugh. Fuck, it’s cute that he’s concerned.
Sitting up, I move over to him. Hank looks slightly surprised, but he doesn’t ease away. Instead, we meet, nearly embracing, and I keep my lips near his.
“Trust me,” I tell him, flirting. “I know what I want.”
Instead of sealing the kiss, I stand, teasing Hank a little. He quickly stands and joins me.
“I’m not taking advantage of you?” I ask back to him. “With my youthful wiles?”
Hank cocks up half a smile. “No, Elliot. Not one little bit.”
This time, I do close the distance, meeting him in a brief kiss. When I step back, I see that Hank’s cheeks are flushed.
“Busy day ahead,” I say. “But if the island starts a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.”
Hank scoffs. “Please don’t direct anyone away from rescuing us. Not even in jest. Should we start with…”
He trails off as a buzzing sound grows in the distance.
“Those birds again?” I ask, but it gets louder.
Hank’s eyes get wide. “It’s a… A something!”
He turns and takes off toward the shore, slipping and sliding over the rocks. I scramble after him, my pulse spiking.
The buzzing noise grows louder and stronger, and I hear the roar of a motor rumbling beneath it.
“It’s a boat!” I yell.
“A boat!” Hank yells as he runs into a branch, which knocks him back.
I sprint ahead of him. As I emerge on the shore, I see a speedboat, close to the island and gliding over the water.
