Uncharted(41)

“Oh, now you’re worried?” I snort, coming to a stop a few feet away, eyes on his broad shoulders. “That’s rich. You’ve been ignoring me for a week. You look straight through me half the time. I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone.”

He whirls around to face me so fast, my eyes can barely track him. Whatever apologies he’d been prepared to offer are discarded as he takes two strides into my space, bringing us within inches of each other. My heart stops beating. For a split second, I think he’s going to do something totally crazy, like crush me against his chest or slam his mouth down on mine.

“Believe me, things would be a fuck of a lot simpler if I could look straight through you, Violet.”

My heart stops beating.

He leans in. “Next time you decide to leave for half a day, a heads up would be appreciated. I’ve spent three goddamned hours searching the forest for you.”

“No one asked you to come looking for me.”

“You didn’t have to ask. Like it or not, I’m responsible for you.”

I jerk my chin, outraged. “How many times do I have to tell you — I am not a child! You are most definitely not my father! So do us both a favor and stop acting like it.”

“Oh, princess, I’m perfectly aware I’m not your father,” he growls, voice shaking. His eyes scan me up and down, scorching into my skin as though he remembers exactly what I look like beneath this dress.

With a sound of disgust, I push past him and run back to camp, toiletry bag clutched tight against my aching chest. I hope the image of me floating naked in that water haunts him for the rest of his days. I hope he can’t close his eyes without seeing me on the back of his eyelids, burned in like a brand.

It would serve him right, the jerk.





Chapter Twelve





F L Y E R





“I can’t stand it,” Ian wheezes.

Dropping everything, I fly to his side. “What? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”

“No…” His eyes are crinkled at the corners — not with agony, but amusement. “I just can’t stand. Literally.”

I groan. “Your jokes are getting worse.”

“You try thinking up unique leg-related humor all day long, it’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Alternatively, you could stop altogether.”

“Nah, not a chance.” His dimples appear. “Have to make you smile somehow. Why so glum today, sourpuss?”

“I’m not glum.”

“Yesterday you disappeared for hours, today you’ve been moping around like a pre-teen at Hot Topic whose debit card got declined.”

“Harsh!”

He shrugs. “Calling it like I see it.”

“Well, you must be going blind because I’m perfectly fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“Let’s talk about someone with real problems. You, for instance.” I eye his gaunt face. “You’re not eating.”

“Menu here isn’t to my taste. Lots of seafood and, gotta be straight with you, I’ve always been more of a steak guy.”

“Uh huh. I’ll get right on that,” I say wryly. “In the meantime, how about you try some fruit? Those weird melon things on trees with the red flowers are actually pretty good. I don’t know what they’re called, but they taste like a cross between a mango and a papaya…”

“No,” he cuts me off. “I’m not hungry.”

I chew my lip worriedly. “You really should try to keep your strength up. The fruit…”

“Violet. Unless it’s Kobe-beef-flavored fruit, I’m not interested.”

“Fine.” My hands lift in submission. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“A margarita would be nice.”

“I realize it’s a struggle for you to take any of this seriously, but I need to know about your condition.”

“My condition? Hmm, let’s see. Single. Sagittarius. Stunningly handsome. Recently lost about thirty pounds, all in the lower extremity region. Enjoy long hops on the beach at sunset, followed by fluorescent-lit dinners at the International House of Pancakes.”

I choke down a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he drawls. “Not even a chuckle for IHOP? That was a good one.”

I lose the battle for composure and giggle helplessly. “Fine! If I admit it was funny, will you agree to tell me how you’re actually feeling?”

“Yes.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You are oh so hilarious,” I deadpan. “They should give you your own late night show. That guy Jimmy has nothing on you.”

He grins. “Thanks Violet. That means so much to me, especially knowing you were blackmailed into saying every word.”

“Quit stalling. How are you feeling?”

“Never better.”

I stare him down.

He sighs deeply, then finally relents. “Lightheaded. Dizzy. The leg pain is intense, and the burns itch so bad, I’d scratch them raw if I knew it wouldn’t do more nerve damage. I’m tired all the time. Physically, emotionally. Tired of sitting under this damn raft tent, tired of not being able to move, tired of pissing into coconut shells and handing them to you to take care of for me. I am a grown ass man, weak as a fucking kitten, withering away in hundred-degree heat. Worse, I’m a burden on you. Just being here, I make things doubly hard, because you have to take care of me in addition to yourself. You’ve got enough to deal with already without me bogging you down.”