Chapter 17
Jett
“Jett,” a voice hisses. “ Ulysses.”
A small knock raps on my hotel door, then another. Sofía stands at the threshold, squinting at the bright light in the room.
“You’re awake?” she asks, tiptoeing over to the desk, where I’m editing the drone footage we took yesterday.
The better question is: Why is she? I’m often awake at four in the morning.
There are fewer distractions at night, and it’s when my brain works best. I used to fight it, to try to work the hours most people do during the day, but after my creativity dried up, I stopped trying to fit into something that was never meant to work for me.
“I wanted to get some work done before we left for Cairns.”
She leans over my shoulder after I sit back down, her perfume assaulting my senses.
“Can I see?”
Tapping the space bar on my laptop, I allow the footage to play out.
Variations of long and short clips play out from our adventures exploring different waterfalls and hiking through the Tablelands.
It switches to a longer clip of Sofía laughing as she leaps off a rock and plummets into crystal-clear water.
When she breaks the surface, her laugh fills the audio.
I may have rewatched the video a few times, getting drunk off the sound.
The drone footage Doug took of the forest transforming into the sea switches onto the screen, plays for a few seconds, and then the screen goes dark. I still need to add our footage from Townsville of the wallabies grazing in the grass and the cockatoos hanging out on the median of the highway.
“That’s all I have so far.”
I haven’t found the courage to open the recording at the creek—not when it’s still headlining in my mind.
“It’s incredible.” She squeezes my shoulder, and my pulse skitters. “But I think I have something better.”
The smile she offers me transforms her beauty into something magnificent, and I’m suspended in time.
“Oh?”
“No more work,” she declares. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and the sight is breathtaking. “Pack your things, we’re going on an adventure.”
“Right now?”
“Get moving.” She pushes me toward my luggage. “We’re in a time crunch.”
Eyeing her, I shove my things into my bag. Her fingers twitch, and I know it’s killing her to let me crumple shirts and toss in toiletries without any organization or structure, but I admire her strength because she says nothing, only tracks me while I pack.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.”
“Are Doug and Molly coming?”
“Also no. Thought we could ditch those two the way they always ditch us. I got them bus tickets to meet us in Cairns tonight and a reservation at a fancy restaurant while we meet our friends. They’re quite happy about the arrangement.”
I huff a laugh. “I’m sure they are. I’m ready.”
It’s pitch black as we sneak out of the hotel and into the SUV we rented. Already, it’s warm, the air wrapping around me like a sticky blanket.
“I’m driving,” she whispers. She stops at the door, studying the step into the truck. “Hold these.”
Sofía shoves three separate bags into my hands, opens the car door, takes a few steps backward, and then launches herself into the driver’s seat, gripping the center console to pull herself up. A few adjustments to the seat and mirrors, and she’s settled herself in nicely.
“Oh, this is weird,” she says when she reaches in the wrong direction for the seat belt.
With a small laugh, I put everything in my hold in the back seat. A thrill runs through me at the adventure.
“Will you tell me where we’re going now?”
The engine revs to life, and she offers me a mischievous look—one I’ve never seen from her but will consume my thoughts forever. She’s magnificent at all times, but there’s something special about her when she lets go a little.
“Nope.”
With that, she backs out of the parking spot at a snail’s pace.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” I ask after five minutes of going forty kilometers in a sixty-limit area.
Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and she leans her head forward to get closer to the windshield.
“You haven’t slept,” she says. “Get some rest. It’s a three-hour drive.”
Is there a kind way to tell her there’s no chance I’m going to fall asleep while she’s behind the wheel? Her words hold a level of confidence, but her body language isn’t telling the same story.
“Pull over,” I demand, and her head snaps to me before she refocuses on the road, pulling off into a gas station. “Out.”
She does as I say and stands in front of the driver’s door. I take her by the shoulders, the contact electrifying, and guide her to the right side of the SUV.
“That was enough of an adrenaline rush for the day,” I tease, closing the door.
She frowns, and I wave as I cross in front of the car. Her lips quiver, and that show-stopping smile cracks through.
God, she’s beautiful.
Discomfort radiates in my chest, but I rub it away and readjust the mirrors and seat. When I’m comfortable and start the engine, she clears her throat—loud and lacking subtlety.
Her arms are crossed over her chest, pushing up her breasts in a way that makes it incredibly difficult to focus, and I avert my gaze to the GPS.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not telling you.”
She’s pouting. I’ve foiled part of her plan. Well, I’d like to make it there alive, and I wasn’t sure that would happen with her behind the wheel on the other side of the road.
“Sofía,” I sing, leaning over the console to invade her personal space. “Pretty, smart Sofía, will you please tell me where we’re going?”
“No.”
Shit. I thought the compliments would work.
I try a different approach. “What if I promise not to look at the destination?”
“You promise?” She nibbles on her lower lip, and my gaze snaps to the action. “I want it to be a surprise for you.”
Hand on my chest, I say, “On my honor.”
Turning away, she types in the address and sets the phone in the cup holder. The voice of the GPS immediately says, “Directions to Etty Bay.”
For five long seconds, silence fills the car. I pull my lips between my teeth to fight the laughter bubbling up in my chest. Sofía’s face pales as her right eye twitches.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” I say, shifting into drive and pulling out of the gas station.
Silence, and then, “You’re not a good liar, but thanks for trying.”
I steal a glance at her, and something right below my diaphragm cracks at the disappointment written on her face. I can only imagine how much work went into keeping this a secret, and all to surprise me.
There’s only one reason we’d head to Etty Bay at four in the morning to beat the sunrise, and it takes every ounce of control I have to remain calm. We drive for twenty minutes on the highway before I can no longer contain the excitement.
“You told me we didn’t have time,” I blurt out, startling her so thoroughly she yelps.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She settles deeper into her seat, kicking her legs onto the dash. Nausea rolls in my stomach. “Put your feet down.”
“What?”
“It’s not safe. You shouldn’t keep your feet on the dash.” The discomfort settles when she removes her legs, though her gaze remains heavy on my skin. “You could get hurt if we were in an accident,” I murmur.
Her hand settles on my forearm. “I’ll keep them down.”
After Mateo told me about Charlie’s accident—the one that left her with scars and chronic arthritis—I went down a rabbit hole on car accidents. I’ll never get some of those images out of my mind. The mere idea of Sofía getting hurt makes me sick.
Darkness shrouds the landscape we witnessed yesterday, and Sofía plays with the speakers, turning on the audiobook I’ve been listening to with Mateo and his abuela.
The fantasy romance is fast paced, and I’ve already started the second book of the series.
If his abuela knew, she would be pissed, but I couldn’t wait for her to finish at one-time speed.
It gives me something to focus on when I have to complete boring tasks, and it’s easier to process than reading the book itself.
The hours pass by in a flash as we listen, Sofía gasping and adding small commentary when something exciting happens. It’s beginning to heat up between the main characters when we arrive at Etty Bay, and I turn off the car before I need to sit here for fifteen minutes to cool down.
I’ve listened to enough audiobooks now to know there are some parts you listen to in the privacy of your home, where you can pretend you’re not blushing and freaking out.
She leaps out of the car and collects a bag and a blanket from the back seat. I take some of it from her while we walk down a narrow path that leads to the beach. Tall grasses and viny plants bracket both sides, and tiny purple flowers bloom from the chaos.
Sofía walks ahead of me, and I drop a bag, digging out my phone to record.
Rays of light break over the horizon, backlighting her and hiding most of her features.
I record for a few seconds—enough for a short clip of B-roll—then catch up to her.
She strolls along the beach, searching for a spot, and I find myself recording her again, this time laying out the picnic blanket.
After smoothing out the wrinkles, she glances up at me, rolls her eyes, and continues her task.
“Do you plan to help, or are you going to film me all day?” she calls out, a teasing tone in the question.
“But the view is so pretty from over here,” I reply, narrowing the focus to Sofía rising to her full height.
Her head tilts with a puzzled look, then she looks over her shoulder, the mix of pinks and oranges and purples of the sunrise bleeding into the deep blue of the ocean.
“It’s incredible,” she says, though the camera is pointed at her.
Yeah, it is.
She admires the sunrise and beckons me, a series of Tupperware containers spread out on the large blanket. I turn the video off and sit on the opposite side, leaning back on my palms.
“So, you said you had a surprise?”
She gives me a look. “It was already spoiled.”
“Was it? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”