Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“Pull harder!” Hunter yelled from the other side of the boat.
The question “Where is your ‘please’?” teetered on the edge of my tongue, but this was day five of Operation Reely Nauti Rescue, and we both were overtaxed and a little edgy with anticipation.
To haul a vessel full of water that was equivalent in weight to an African savannah elephant wasn’t exactly easy and straightforward.
Blisters covered my palms, my muscles ached from too much pulling and lifting, and my ass sported a large bruise from an unfortunate tumble I performed when a rope broke the day before.
Over the last few days the progress with the boat had been much better than with decoding the message.
By now, I could recite those digits like my social security number.
We’d spent our evenings playing with them, and not a single idea had worked so far.
It was becoming more apparent to me that either I wasn’t as smart as I thought or whoever created it was a mastermind.
Or the answer was hidden in plain sight, and we were looking too hard.
But right now, I wasn’t focusing on the message because, at the moment, Hunter and I were trying to lift the boat upright using the hoist frame we had built yesterday.
I wasn’t an expert, but the boat appeared intact.
At least all three sides of it that we saw so far.
I couldn’t stop praying for the damage to be minimal, so that in a few days, we could ride to civilization.
Yet, since this morning, a tight feeling pinched my chest each time I pictured saying goodbye to Hunter at the airport, like I had a large fishbone lodged in me, not letting me take a deep breath.
“Sydney! Pull!”
“I’m fucking trying!” Clenching my teeth, I tightened my grip, wrapped my thighs around the rope, and climbed on the cable, hoping my entire body weight could help.
“Why are you swinging on the rope?” Hunter’s voice came from somewhere behind me.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m playing The Floor Is Lava.” I twisted to look at him over my shoulder, and the slow motion made me spin a full circle. “I can’t pull anymore and don’t know what else to do.”
Hunter’s expression was tired, though a tiny flicker of amusement lit his eyes.
Part of his bangs were plastered to his face, falling over his left eyebrow.
And he was shirtless again. The man didn’t know how to keep his shirt on.
A sheen of sweat covered his skin. Sweaty men were gross, right? Yet, he looked like a GQ cover model.
This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him only wearing shorts, but for annoying reasons the sight had turned me into a mass of hormones.
If shirtless man was a fetish, then I certainly had it.
My mouth turned dry, and an unshakeable craving for lime and tequila overcame me.
I wanted to groan. Why couldn’t he look like Danny DeVito?
“I thought you said you are pretty strong?” he teased with a smile.
I gave him a warning glare. “The strongest muscle I have is my middle finger. I’ll prove it in a second.”
“And here I thought it was your eyeballs because you roll them so much.”
My hands grew weak, the sore blisters burning, but I held on as if my life depended on it.
“Well, are you just going to stand there?” I demanded, not hiding my irritation at …
why was I irritated? I woke up annoyed. Physical exhaustion was definitely a partial cause of my mood, but there was another nagging reason.
Not a very clear reason, but it was there.
Hunter stepped toward me, and my knees pushed into his taut abs, as he reached for the rope and his fingers looped around the cable above me.
Our faces were on the same level, our noses a few inches apart.
I stared into his blue eyes. My stomach did an odd flip—probably due to poor diet and over-exhaustion.
It was rude to stare, but it was hard not to with him being in my personal space.
Hunter hadn’t shaved in days, his stubble masking a tiny mole above his cupid’s bow and another at the corner of his mouth.
“You look as if you want to say something.” His heated gaze locked with mine.
“You’re in my face.”
His lips curved up, and his arm muscles tensed. He yanked on the cable. My knees crashed to the ground, my face now at his crotch.
“Is this better?” he asked.
Bastard.
I backed away as if he had burned me. Without losing momentum, he changed the positions of his hands and heaved once more. The Reely Nauti swayed and rocked, slowly lurching off its side and sliding into the holding stand with a loud swoosh.
Hunter looped the rope around a tree trunk and tugged on it hard.
He placed his right foot against the trunk and groaned, pulling on the cable.
His skin glittered, his back and arm muscles flexing and rippling with each movement.
I averted my gaze from Hunter’s juicy, round ass that should be illegal for any man to have.
Hunter tied a knot and looked at me, his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Well, this is the moment we were waiting for. You ready?” He straightened to his full height and marched around the boat.
My chest hurt again, and I rubbed it. Of course I was ready. This was what I had wanted ever since I opened my eyes for the first time in Hunter’s hut: to go home. I jumped to my feet and rushed after him to face the moment of truth.