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“Welcome to the Spirit Lodge,” the man at the desk reception says when we arrive.
The lodge, composed of several cabins, is nestled right in the heart of the rainforest, surrounded by some of the oldest and largest trees I’ve ever seen.
Oliver sets his phone on the counter, smiling a broad but tired smile at the receptionist. “Hi, we’re the Wild Planet team?”
Emma leans toward me and whispers, “Where’s Trevor?”
“Just outside, still puking his guts out,” I tell her with a grin.
He ran out of the plane so fast it was hard not to laugh. He struggled the whole hike here and for the rest of the afternoon as we prepped tomorrow’s first day in the lodge common area while our cabins were being readied.
“Here are the keys to your cabins,” the man starts, handing Oliver four keys. “I can see here on the file that Wild Planet has one, and there are three for MNL. Do I have the correct information?”
I frown. One?
“Yep, that’s correct,” Oliver nods.
I move forward and stand next to him. “What do you mean by ‘that’s correct’?”
Oliver shrugs. “Tight budget.” He thanks the receptionist and grabs his bag. Then he looks at me over his shoulder with that damn upward tilt of his lips. “You coming?”
How he can find this situation amusing is beyond me. I jog to catch up with the fast pace he sets with his long legs, despite the tiredness in my bones.
A thousand questions scramble to push their way past my lips. “You knew about this and didn’t think to tell me?”
Oliver keeps his speed and doesn’t bother to answer. Only the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under our hiking boots echoes through the air. It makes me want to plant my foot right in his strutting ass.
“Oliver!”
Oliver whirls around and throws out his arms. “What, Charlee? Would you rather I told you before or after you wouldn’t talk to me yesterday, except for when you were telling me to fuck off? Or maybe when you wanted to drop the whole thing because you couldn’t handle sleeping in the same house as me for one night? I couldn’t risk telling you and have you walking out of this for good. I need this too.”
Well, that’s new.
Surprise must be painted all over my face, because he sighs, dropping his head. “Sorry, sorry. It’s been a long day. Look, can we just focus on what’s important? You said it yourself this morning. We’ll make do. All right?”
“Fine.”
“Always fine, huh?” He shakes his head and resumes his walk to the cabin.
Our cabin.
I cringe.
I’m not entirely certain of the real reason I’m bothered by the prospect of sharing a cabin with him. The most rational explanation is that I have no interest in spending any more time with him than necessary, and sharing a cabin undermines that goal.
As if wanting to prove me wrong, my brain starts rolling images of my thigh pressed up against Oliver’s on the plane, my hand clasped in his. My whole body snaps awake at the memory of the heat that swept through me and how much I struggled to rein in the urge to press myself even closer to him, the craving and the shame of wanting him in that moment—him and no one else.
“Okay, point made,” I mumble to myself as I quickly get rid of those thoughts.
After five minutes of trudging through a dark forest, the air damp and cold from the night settling in, we arrive in front of a modest cabin made of logs. It’s no wider than three of Oliver’s long strides. A pile of chopped wood sits on the wraparound deck, just to the right of the door, and a single light flickers over the entrance.
The whole thing looks like something out of some fairy wonderland. A Hobbit or any other magical woodland creature could stroll past me, and I wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.
There’s a soft click when Oliver turns the key in the lock. Inside, there’s not much: a queen bed in the back of the room next to a door that I assume is the bathroom, a fireplace, two chairs, and a table. On the left, French doors open onto a small patio, and I’m already picturing myself enjoying a nice cup of tea in the middle of nature.
“Uh . . . okay.” His eyes search the room. “I thought there would at least be a couch or something . . .”
I can’t contain my nervous laughter. Oliver turns to look at me, brows furrowed.
