Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Basically, I had been thrown into the bizarre show Hungry and Naked.
Or maybe it was called Lost and Naked. Whatever the heck it was called, it had a troublesome combination of two words.
I flung the door open and limped out of the hot box as quickly as possible, waiting to inhale until I was clear of the area.
I drew in moist air and evaluated my situation.
If Hunter was right and a boat wouldn’t pass by for months, I had to share a hut with a man I’d met only hours ago, stuck in a jungle without contact with the outside world, with a literal shithole as my toilet.
All while praying for a passing boat to notice us.
Sweat ran down my face, down my neck, and between my breasts. I peeled the shirt away from my chest and puffed it a few times, creating a little breeze. Lowering myself to the ground, I leaned against a tall tree. I had to return to camp, but my body didn’t respond to my brain’s command.
My eyes grew heavy. Maybe sailing and the island were all a dream.
Maybe I could open my eyes, and I’d be back in time when my parents were alive—definitely before I married Phill—and I was in my happy bubble.
I would urge my mother to go to the doctors and get an MRI—perhaps saving her life and Dad’s.
Bambi would still be alive because I wouldn’t have gone on this sailing trip.
A rustle in the bushes jerked me out of my drowse and sent my heart racing.
My eyes locked on the low fan-leaved bushes a few feet away.
The noise stopped. I had no idea if this island had dangerous animals.
If a predator was out there, was it watching me, getting ready to pounce on and devour me?
I should have asked Hunter to wait. My condition wouldn’t allow me to outrun whatever was hiding.
Barely breathing and not daring to blink, I listened.
Another sudden rustle plunged me into a frantic panic, and then a black-feathered chicken strolled out from under the bush, its feathers ruffled up as if it had taken a dirt bath. It pecked at something on the ground and continued on its merry way as if I weren’t even there.
“Stupid chicken.” I closed my eyes again.
If there were threatening animals around, Hunter would’ve warned me. He’d pulled me out of the water after all. Or had he said I’d washed up on the beach? In any case, he hadn’t let me die and had taken care of me.
“Hey.” A voice spoke as if in a dream. “Sydney, wake up.” The touch on my arm felt more real than any dream could fabricate. I opened my eyes to Hunter crouched next to me. His hand slid under my knees and around my back.
“I’ll take you back to bed.” He swung me into his arms.
Oh, good. So much for being less of a pain in his ass.
I mocked every movie and romance novel when a handsome stranger carried a passed-out woman, and there I was, living the cliché.
My arms looped around Hunter’s neck, and I rested my head on his shoulder, the touch of his old shirt soft against my skin.
“Ohhhh, Naked and Afraid,” I mumbled.
Hunter paused his walk. “What?”
“Just thinking out loud,” I said, inhaling the ghost of citrus on his clothes. “You smell like oranges,” I murmured. “Is that your detergent?”
“No.” He chuckled.
At his hut, Hunter carefully set me down on his bed and pressed his hand to my forehead. “You need to eat. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, he returned with a tin plate and a Mason jar filled with a yellow liquid. He set it all next to the journal on the desk and took a seat on the chair.
I sat against the headboard and Hunter helped to adjust the pillow higher behind my back for more comfort. “A common drink on this island—fresh orange juice.” He passed me the jar. That explained his citrusy smell.
I drained the entire cup, instantly craving more of its sweet taste. “That was so good.”
“I wouldn’t offer anything bad to a guest at my house.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You gave me a leaf to wipe with.”
“The best tree I could offer.” The corners of his mouth inched up and his eyes crackled with humor.
“I do have toilet paper. I’ll replace the empty roll today.
But we have to agree that since we are here for an unknown amount of time, toilet paper is only for more serious business.
” The tips of his ears turned a shade of red. “Is that okay?”
Even in my current unwell state, next to this man, my grin annoyingly refused to be contained, and I responded with a broad smile of my own. “I understand.”
“Good.” Hunter broke our eye contact and reached for the plate. “Ready to try the finest food in the South Pacific?”
Aside from my parents, nobody had ever taken care of me.
Certainly not my ex-husband. Hell would freeze over before he would cook me food when I was sick.
Once, when I caught the flu and could barely get out of bed, I’d had to drive myself to a doctor because Phill didn’t want to be in the same car with me, even though we’d shared a bed the night before.
Yet here was a good-looking man—even with a rowdy beard—a total stranger who saved my life and didn’t mind taking care of me. My lips urged to smile.
“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, amusement in his expression.
“No reason.” My cheeks grew hot. I hadn’t realized I was gaping at him.
“Hungry?”
“You could offer me roasted squirrel, and I would eat it,” I joked, accepting the plate, but prayed it wasn’t a fuzzy-tailed animal. The plate held a fish fillet, a small boiled potato and avocado, with a side of cut-up mango.
“There are no squirrels on this island,” he said. “Mostly lizards, iguanas, snakes, cats, and lots of birds, including chickens.”
A brown gecko climbed up the screen on the window above the desk. “You have a lot of lizards inside the house.”
“Don’t hurt them. They eat bugs and mosquitos.”
“I’m not scared of lizards, but in the woods, one of your chickens scared the bejesus out of me.”
“Yes, they are terrifying creatures.” Hunter widened his eyes in mocking shock. He seemed to be in a top-notch mood for someone stuck on the island for the unforeseeable future with a complete stranger in need of medical attention.
I lowered my eyebrows in alarm. “Do you have enough supplies for us not to go hungry?”
“We won’t starve,” he said with calm confidence, his gaze flickering at the cabinet on the other side of the room. “There is plenty of food in the ocean. If we stay healthy, we should be all right.”
Gratitude swelled inside my chest as I watched him appraise the shelf of dry and canned food, then his kind eyes cut to me and he smiled.
“Thank you for saving my life,” I said, my throat thick with emotions.
“I didn’t save your life. You were on the shore when I found you. Alive.”
“You took care of my injury, and now this.” I motioned to the food.
“Any decent human would have done the same.” His gaze cast down to his hands, linked together on his lap. And here I was, hoping you were indecent, I wanted to joke. My ears burned with embarrassment. I glanced at Hunter to make sure I didn’t say it out loud. He was looking down.
Before I could say something unwise, I took my first bite of the fish. A wave of unfamiliar spices mixed with a sweet, flaky fish flavor exploded in my mouth, sending my taste buds into ecstasy. A moan escaped my lips. “This is good.” I stuffed in another bite—a bigger one this time.
“Was your father a sailor?”
“No,” I said, between chews. “I discovered his journals from his college years, with mapped-out routes he wanted to sail after graduation. There were article cutouts from National Geographic and other magazines about a teenager, Robin Lee Graham, who set sail around the world at the age of sixteen. I guess my father wanted to do something similar.”
“I have heard about that guy.”
I speared a piece of potato with the fork.
“His journey was terrifying. He starved, battled storms, and even encountered pirates.” Selfishly, I was glad that my father had met my mom, fallen in love, and given up on his dream because there might not have been me if he had copied Robin.
He could have died. My eyes welled up at the thought that he was dead and never got to explore the world the way he wanted.
I had to focus more on Hunter and not let another wave of sadness take me under.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly do you do here? ”
The smile on Hunter’s face wavered, and something in his expression changed, but he recovered quickly. Stretching his long legs and leisurely linking them at his ankles, he crossed his arms and studied me. “I run a deep-sea fishing rental that used to belong to my uncle.”
“And what did you do before you came here?”
I sounded like a police interrogator. It was a good thing we weren’t on a date, but as long as Hunter gave me answers, I would continue asking questions.
In my defense, the need to piece together as much information as I could about him to understand if I was in peril outweighed politeness and etiquette.
“I was a driver for a drug lord,” he said, looking me straight in the eye.
My hand with the fork paused midair, and I stared back at him.
He couldn’t be serious. Or perhaps he’d told the exact truth, but it was so far-fetched that he was sure I wouldn’t believe it.
I blinked, not sure what to think now, and then I snorted.
“Yeah, right. Nobody openly admits to a stranger that they are a criminal.”
A smile seemed to teeter on the edge of his lip. “What about you? What did you do before you went sailing?”
“I’m a software engineer. For the last two years, I was a freelance developer for several companies based out of Europe.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “That’s interesting. Why did you stop working for them?”
I stuffed the last piece of mango in my mouth and placed the fork on the empty plate.
“Short story: AI.” In truth, I was too tired and didn’t feel like sharing the saddest moments of my life.
A black cat sashayed into the room through the open door.
It looked like it was on a mission, its tail up and its yellow eyes fixed on us.
The cat disappeared before the bed and then jumped up on my feet.
Nonchalantly, it sauntered over to me, paying no attention to my empty plate, rubbing its head against my resting arm.
“Hi there.” I ran my hand over its short fur. “What’s your name?”
“This is Tuesday. I have two cats.”
A snort escaped me. “I’m not sure if the name is creative or ridiculous.”
Hunter’s full lips curved into a smile, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. I’d always been a sucker for big, blue eyes. And right now, Hunter’s ocean eyes—with long, dark eyelashes—regarded me with a steady, assessing gaze.
I forced my attention on the cat. My fingers kept scratching Tuesday’s neck, behind its ears, sending the cat close to the gate of nirvana. It dropped on its side, purring. “Where did you get him?”
“I was in town, loading goods I’d purchased, and a black cat jumped into my boat.
He sat in my seat and stared at me. I didn’t need a cat, so I set him on the dock and left the harbor.
The next time I returned, the same damn cat was in my sailboat when I came back.
It wouldn’t leave. So, I brought him here. It was on a Tuesday.”
“Where did the second one come from?”
“Same place. Only that time, Monday followed me back from the bar to my boat. I couldn’t say no. I thought maybe he was a friend of Tuesday. It was on Monday.” Hunter took the plate off my lap. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better.” The sensation of weakness wasn’t as noticeable as before. A little food made me feel like a human again, but it didn’t fully recharge my batteries.
“Good.” Hunter rose, collecting the dirty mug off the nightstand. “I’ll come by later to check on you.”
“Hunter,” I said, tucking the strand of hair behind my ear. “Where are you going to sleep tonight?”
He paused at the door. “In the hammock on the porch.”
Guilt that I had taken over his bed ground its teeth at my consciousness. “Tomorrow, you can sleep here, and I’m out there.” I tipped my head toward the window, my eyes landing on the worn-out sofa that looked even less comfortable than the hammock. “Or maybe I can take the couch?”
A relaxed smile crossed Hunter’s face and shook his head. “That’s all right. If I stay inside, it leaves you no privacy. I’m perfectly fine outside.”
Thank goodness. There was no way I could shut my eyes in the open jungle.
“Try to get some rest,” he said before exiting.
Tuesday jumped off the bed and darted through the door after Hunter.
I nestled in the bed, cradling my hands on my chest, and stared at those same paint flakes on the ceiling.
This situation—alone on a tropical island with a (so far kind) man—was so surreal.
If Tina knew, she would jump up and down, clapping her hands, saying this was the first chapter of my new beginning.
I just hoped that it wasn’t a thriller.