Chapter 16
It was almost dark when there was a knock on the door. Libby scooped Karim up off the kitchen floor, turned down the burner on the stove, and went to answer it.
“Is that you, Cranky?”
“Will you stop calling me that?”
With a chuckle, she opened the door. “I was getting worried. What happened to you? I didn’t think you’d be gone so long.”
“I would’ve come hours ago,” Dan said, stepping inside. “But on the way back, I bumped into the colonel in the village.”
“Who’s he?”
“The guy who runs the Cabins. He was on his way to a tumunu. I made the mistake of asking what that was, then the next thing I know, he’s dragging me into the forest again.”
Libby giggled. “So now you’re drunk on the local homebrew?”
“A little tipsy, but”—his eyes narrowed—“wait, you knew it was a bush bar?”
“I’m a journalist, remember?” She tapped the side of her nose. “It’s my job to know stuff.” Then she sniffed the air. A whiff of burning. “Oh, shoot! The onions!”
She dashed off toward the kitchen and, with Karim still on her hip, stirred the sizzling onions. On the next burner, a pot of water was almost boiling over. She reached for the cup of rice she’d already measured out, but Dan got there first.
“Here, let me help you,” he said.
“No, I got this.”
“Me, too.” He picked up the rice and slid it into the boiling water. “You always cook like this? One handed?”
“Yes and no.” She placed Karim back down next to the pots and pans he’d been playing with on the floor between her feet.
“Usually, he’s about to trip me up. But it’s not like us moms have much choice.
We might be superhuman, but we still need to eat.
” She stepped over Karim to get to the sink and pulled out the bowl of mangoes she’d been washing. “So, did you see the kopeka bird?”
Dan set the rice to simmer. “You knew it was a bird, too?”
“Sure, I did.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What did you think it was? A cave monster?”
“I thought it was some sort of rock structure or statue.” He stirred the sauce, and while Libby chopped more mango, he told her about the kopeka.
“They nest in pitch-black caves and use echolocation, like bats, but they just look like normal little birds, and they’re only found on Atiu.
” Then he told her about the tumunu, how they were originally secret drinking clubs after the missionaries had banned alcohol on the island.
She already knew, but she liked listening to him.
“Cranky Jones learned something today,” she said when he’d finished, and then she smiled up at him.
“Why do I get the impression you’re not just talking about the kopeka and bush bars?” He leaned against the counter. “Okay, so how about adding another headline in your notebook? ‘Life Lessons Learned While Looking for Change.’”
“I like it.” Libby’s heart beat faster. This was the Daniel Jones she liked best. The one who could revisit the past and admit that there was room for improvement, with a willingness to do better.
Then his eyeline shifted through the open kitchen doorway to the couch where they’d sat together, cozy, like friends, like…a couple, the last time he was here.
“I’m sorry again about the other night,” he said, and Libby was strangely touched that he’d obviously been thinking about the last time he was here too.
“It’s water under the bridge now,” she told him. “I can understand how it looked to you. And for what it’s worth, even without our plan to blow up the internet, I’m really glad we’re friends again.”
“Me, too.” His smile shot straight to her heart. “But we’re more than just friends now,” he added. “We’re friends who are helping each other out. Business partners, even.”
Libby laughed. “Believe me, it’s not much of a business.”
“Yet,” he added. “It might not be much of a business yet, but we’ll draw attention to your channel so you can turn it into one.”
“Thanks. And the content we’ll create together will inspire positivity and optimism and absolutely no gossip.
” She went back to washing her mango, fuzzy and warm inside that she and Dan were talking and planning like this.
That he was here beside her, in her kitchen, helping her cook, like they’d known each other for years.
She shot him a sideways glance. “You want to hear my ideas for our interviews?”
His eyes tightened at the corners, but slowly he nodded. “Okay.”
“Firstly, it’s a collab. So you’ve got as much control over our output as I have.
I’m thinking we could do a five-part series.
” She reached for another mango to chop.
“Part One will be about your childhood, what shaped you. Part Two—making it to the top, winning your first gold. Part Three—the fame, your continuing success, and Part Four…” She looked down at her knife.
“If you don’t mind, Part Four will be about your accident. ”
“My downfall.”
“No, don’t call it that.” She brushed away his negativity with a quick shake of her head. “You should view Part Four as preparation for your new beginning.”
He gave a joyless little laugh. “You do realize that Part Four is the only reason people will tune in. They want to see what’s left of me. They want to know about Is—”
Dan looked away, leaving Isabella’s unspoken name hanging in the air.
Libby continued to chop, like she hadn’t noticed. “Are you okay to talk about your accident?”
“Maybe. Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Like you said earlier, I need to do it to keep those reporters out of my face, but… I… The thing is, I won’t talk about my love life.”
Libby stilled, her knife halfway through a chunk of mango. “People will be curious.”
“I know. And they’ll have to remain curious. I can’t talk about Isabella.”
Can’t, not won’t? Libby could just imagine how well a guarded secret Isabella’s affair with Xav Hunter was.
Hollywood royalty like Xav and Alicia were a multi-billion-dollar business.
They wouldn’t let a newbie British pop star be a threat to their empire.
If there were any leaks or whiffs of rumors, Team Hunter would have a steady strategy in place. Was Dan also a part of that strategy?
“I’m sorry, Libby,” he said. “But I’ve always hated people treating my love life like it’s public property. Who I date. Who I fall in love with. That’s my business. No one else’s. So, I’ll do your interviews, but on one condition. They’re to be kept an Isabella-free zone.”
Libby started to chop again. “All right.” She might be cooking with Dan now like they were old friends, but the reality was they’d only known each other seven days.
If Dan really was part of some master plan to protect Isabella and the Hunters, Libby couldn’t get in the way of that.
And who knew? With a bit more time, maybe Dan would confide the truth about his broken engagement to her, one friend to another.
“An Isabella-free zone,” she said. “Got it.” Then she tapped the spoon on the side of the pan and gave him her best smile. “Looks like we’re just about ready to eat.”
After dinner, a quick wash, and three Flumpy Monster stories later, Karim fell asleep.
Libby tucked a sheet around him and, with a stretch and a yawn, padded softly to the kitchen.
She stopped in the doorway, noticing that all the plates had been washed, dried, and were neatly back on the shelf.
The worktop and table were wiped clean, too, and sparkling pots and pans drained by the sink.
When she stepped outside into the mellow night air, Dan was at the little table, a book in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.
“You did the dishes,” she said, sitting across from him.
“You cooked. Would you like some coffee? I left you some in the pot.”
She shook her head and nodded at his book. “What are you reading?”
“When Love is Betrayed. I found it on the shelf.” He held up the cover. A scantily dressed woman was draped against a long-haired man in a ripped pirate’s shirt that revealed an impressive chest.
Libby bit back a smile. “Is it any good?”
“So far it’s drawn me in. The writing is pretty good, and I’m interested to know what love looks like when it’s betrayed.”
Don’t you already know?
The words hovered on Libby’s lips, not that she’d ever speak them. Especially after the no-fly zone he’d put around Isabella earlier. Instead, she propped her head on one elbow and studied the bare-chested guy on the book cover.
Hot, ripped abs, hard pecs… Yum.
Dan was hot, ripped, and the owner of eight-pack abs and hard pecs too…
but that was just her tired, sleep-deprived mind drifting down a path littered with warning signs.
“So, our interviews,” she said, because staying focused on work was far wiser than searching for that fantasy world of heat and steam.
“How comfortable are you in front of the camera?”
“Well…” Dan rubbed his chin. “It’s been a while since I was last interviewed.”
“You nervous?”
“A little.”
“Then don’t move. I’ve got an idea.” She rushed inside to fetch her phone and selfie stick.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she returned.
“Getting you used to my camera.” She rigged her phone to her selfie stick.
“Consider this like the warmup before a big race. I’ll ask you a bunch of questions.
Then we can expand on each one in separate interviews over the next few days.
Are you okay with that?” When he nodded, she added, “Come closer.” He shifted his chair.
She checked her settings and positioned the phone between them.
“We’ll start on the count of three. Ready?
One, two, and… Here we are, guys,” she said softly.
“Guess who I’m sitting out with on this beautiful tropical night?
” She angled the camera towards Dan’s face.
“The legendary Daniel Jones! The Lightning Strike. British Olympic champion. Multi-gold medalist. The fastest man on earth.”
“One of the fastest men on earth,” he corrected.
“And super modest too, I see. And exactly how many Olympic golds have you won?”
“Eight.”
“How many silvers?”
“Three.”
“Any bronze?”
“Two.”
“That’s a lot of metal. Where do you keep it all?”
“At home, in a box.”
“A box? Seriously?” She chuckled. “Why not on display?”
He merely shrugged. “I know they’re there. People know I have them.”
“Is it at least a special box?”
“It’s special to me.”
“What’s it made of?”
“Cardboard.” He sipped his coffee. “It’s a shoebox.”
Libby snickered, liking the twinkle in his eye. So, he was relaxed enough to be playful and get into the spirit of her slightly unorthodox interview skills? She sat back.
“I grew up overlooking the Pacific Ocean,” she said.
“When I was a little girl, I came across this world atlas in our school library. It was a huge, huge book. I loved looking through it, at all the vast lands of North America, the Soviet Union, Asia, and Australia. But my favorite pages were of the South Pacific. This unbelievably enormous ocean that’s way, way bigger than any land mass.
The deep blue filled several pages, and you know?
I was just so fascinated by the tiny specks of green and yellow that made up the islands. ”
“Me too,” Dan said with a knowing smile. “My night light as a kid was a globe. My parents would show my sisters and me where they’d traveled. We grew up listening to them talking about the remote places they’d been to.”
“So, what do you love best about this tiny island?”
For a moment, he kept his gaze steady on hers, contemplating his next words. Then he looked at their surroundings, at the bushes tinged with moonshine.
“I love the peace and quiet,” he said eventually, “and it’s miles away from home.”
Libby zoomed in on his face. “Is that why you nearly killed yourself again getting out here?”
The question earned her a quick, sideways glance.
“I take it the warmup’s over,” he drawled.
“Let’s get to it, Cranky. You’re better than I thought you’d be on camera.
” And he was—relaxed, calm, natural. She zoomed out and angled her phone to get herself in the frame again.
“Medically and physically speaking, it was a risk taking on such a long journey. You were exhausted. Your body took another beating.”
“And it was worth it,” he said.
“Why?”
“So I could be me again.”
“And who’s ‘me’? Who’s the real Lightning Strike?”
“That’s a good question.” A crease formed between his eyebrows, and his lips pressed firmly together. Libby zoomed in on his profile again. Handsome. Striking. Enigmatic. Then a shadow of a smile passed across his face. “I guess we’ll soon find out.”
The hair on the back of Libby’s neck stood on end as the air turned electric. She stopped recording.
“Well, Cranky…” She breathed, lowering the camera. “That was really great. How do you feel?”
“Stupid.”
“I knew you’d say that. You’re the guy who keeps his hard-won medals in a shoebox.”
Chuckling, he picked up his coffee again. “That was a good warmup. Something tells me being interviewed by Liberta Jones will be an experience I won’t forget in a hurry.”
She smiled up at him as she propped her head on her arm, enjoying the moment.
Until she thought about all the things she had to do before their interviews could go live.
“You’re not in a hurry to tell the world you’re alive and kicking, are you?
It’s going to take me at least a week to get all my platforms optimized.
I can only work three, four hours a day max because of Karim.
Then there’s all the editing we have to do after we’ve shot our interviews.
There’s my website, and both our socials have to be polished, and—” She let out a big yawn.
“You’d better get some sleep first, Libby,” Dan said, standing. “We can talk more tomorrow.” He picked up his mug.
“I’ll take that in,” she told him, and noticed he’d also picked up When Love is Betrayed.
“Mind if I hang on to this?” he asked. “I like reading, and this promises to be a”—he peered at the back cover—“a ‘thrilling adventure of the heart.’”
“We all need one of those from time to time.” Libby snickered. “Go for it.”
She followed him to the gate.
“The moon’s extra pretty tonight,” he said softly.
Libby looked up. The moon was a crystal-like sphere. A ball of fragile glass.
Something tickled her bare shoulder. It was Dan’s arm brushing against hers. She stepped back, unaware she’d been standing so close.
“I… I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said. “We’ll come call for you at the Cabins at ten.”
“Cool.” But he didn’t move. Instead, his gaze flickered to the sky and back again, his lips twitching.
“What?” she asked.
“The moon. I can see it in your eyes.” Then he kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Libby. Thanks again for dinner.”
Her hand shot to the side of her face.
“You’re welcome,” she managed. But he’d already walked out into the silent, moonlit road, his long shadow trailing behind him.