Flirting with Fifty

He was there at breakfast the next morning. Paige couldn’t believe it. She didn’t know what she thought he’d do—Hide in a room? Take the jeep back to the airstrip and hop on a plane? But no, Jack was at breakfast, freshly shaven, hair combed, dressed in an army-green T-shirt and khaki trousers that hung from his lean hips, making his torso longer, his shoulders broader. The man looked like something out of a movie. He was gorgeous. Masculine. Hers.

No, not hers.

Not, not, not hers. Not anymore.

And yet she couldn’t help stealing a glance in his direction as he poured himself a coffee and grabbed a roll and sat down at the far end of the table. How did he look so good after everything that happened last night?

Paige had started with coffee, not sure she could handle much more, but seeing that he was eating, she went to the buffet of fruits, yogurts, eggs, and breads, and took a little of this and that before returning to her chair at the long table where everyone ate family style. Paige ate lightly, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear Jack talking to one of the men at the far end of the table. It sounded as if they were speaking German. Or was it Dutch? Either way, she was surprised. How many languages did he speak? Four? Five? More?

The young couple opposite her were blissfully happy. They were the ones on their honeymoon, a British couple, very much in love.

She concentrated on her breakfast—a bite of melon, a bite of mango, a bite of eggs—but it was much harder to eat now that Jack was present. She wished he’d left the camp last night. She wished he’d disappeared so that she could begin moving forward . . . without him. Maybe he was flying out after breakfast. She could only hope.

Kafil appeared in the breakfast room to announce they’d be going on the morning drive soon. “Bring your water bottles,” he said. “We will fill them before we go. Fifteen minutes to departure. We’ve heard there are lions hunting today. We will be going to find them.”

Paige glanced at Jack, discovered he was looking at her. She couldn’t make out his expression as his lashes lowered over his eyes and the distance between them made her throat ache. She hated that they weren’t on the same team anymore, hated that what had seemed so wonderful was anything but.

She turned away, forcing herself to smile at the young British couple who were collecting their cameras and hats, excited by the mention of lions, and were making sure she’d be joining them for this morning’s drive.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, fighting the hot, gritty sensation at the back of her eyes. “Can’t wait to see those big cats.”

Jack was there with everyone fifteen minutes later when it was time to board the open-air jeep, his icy water bottle in hand. The British honeymooners took the back row. The German couple took the row behind the driver. Paige took the open seat in the middle, certain Jack would take the passenger seat up front. But no, he slid past the others to sit down next to her.

“What are you doing?” she said under her breath, refusing to look at him directly.

“Going on the game drive. What are you doing?” he asked.

She looked at him now, seeing the high forehead, straight nose, square jaw. She ground her teeth together, gave him a death look, intentionally fierce. “I’d prefer you to take the open seat up front.”

“And I’d prefer to sit here. With my girlfriend.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Ex-girlfriend.”

He shrugged. “Semantics.”

“If you’re not going to move, I will.”

“Don’t make a scene now. It would just ruin everyone’s honeymoon.”

She dropped her voice. “I don’t make scenes. But I also know when I’m not wanted. Sadly . . .” She gave him a meaningful look before averting her head, her voice drifting off.

Jack laughed.

Paige’s jaw dropped, and then she snapped it shut, unable to believe he’d actually had the audacity to laugh now. In the middle of their breakup. “You’re cruel,” she gritted through clenched teeth.

“You’re being dramatic.”

Without another word Paige rose, conscious that the young Brits behind her were watching. She gracefully stepped over Jack’s long legs and climbed down from the jeep.

Kafil was just about to get behind the wheel and looked at her, concerned.

“Could I sit up front this morning?” she asked. “I sometimes get carsick. I was thinking the fresh air might help me today.”

Kafil moved his bag and binoculars off the seat. She thanked him warmly, sat down, and buckled her seat belt. The German couple passed her camp water bottle to her. She knew who had passed it to them, but she thanked them profusely, even as she hoped Jack would forget his seat belt and maybe tumble out when they hit a big rut. It was petty, but it made her feel immeasurably better.

As they left their camp behind, Kafil began talking to them about cats. Lions stalk and chase, but after two hundred yards will give up. The cheetah is more strategic. It’s a cunning cat. Leopards chase and pounce. They like to climb trees and lie in wait. Predators have forward-facing eyes. Just like humans.

Like last night, there was a “comfort stop” after the second hour. Everyone spilled out of the jeep. Kafil set up a folding table, covered it with a small checked cloth, placed an ice chest on the ground. There were nuts, muffins, and juices. He poured hot tea for those who wanted it.

Jack took a hot tea. Paige stood at a distance. Suddenly, baboons ran across the field, tearing through a herd of impala, ignoring the big male at the back.

Paige could overhear the German couple speaking to Kafil now, asking about the birds. Last night they’d asked about the birds, too. Apparently, this was their first safari in Tanzania. They’d gone to Botswana last year and raved about the Lilac Breasted Roller. It was common but beautiful. They asked Kafil about his favorite bird. What should they be looking for?

Paige finished her cup of juice and threw the cup in the waste basket. She could see Jack over her shoulder, studying the landscape.

Kafil began breaking down the table. Everyone started to return to the jeep. The German couple took the second row so that Jack and Paige could be closer. Jack leaned toward her, asking solicitously, “Are you feeling better, dear?”

She turned her head, looked at him, his eyes now hidden by sunglasses. “Much, thank you, dear.”

He patted her gently. “Just let me know what I could do to help.”

Kafil glanced at her, smiled. “Your fiancé, he’s a good man, yes?”

Her fiancé? Is that what he’d told everyone? Paige turned and gave Jack another look, this time arching a brow. She still couldn’t see Jack’s eyes, but it was impossible to ignore his blinding white smile.

After four and a half hours they made it back to camp. There would be a half hour to freshen up before lunch. Jack headed off to his cottage and Paige watched him go, wanting to chase after him and give him a piece of her mind. Why was he sticking around? Why did he have to torment her? Couldn’t he just go? Let her enjoy her safari in peace?

She didn’t know how it happened, but the long table from breakfast had been broken into smaller tables, three smaller tables, specifically, one for each couple. The Brits were at theirs. The Germans—an older man and the much younger blonde—at theirs. And then Jack . . . at hers.

She glanced around, thinking there must be some other place she could sit, but there were only the three square tables, each with two place settings.

Baraka appeared from the shadows, walked her to her table, and drew the chair for her. “Good afternoon, Paige,” he said cheerfully. “How are you enjoying our river camp?”

“I love it,” she said, forcing a smile. “Everyone is so warm and wonderful.”

“Did you like the surprise I brought you last night?” he added, gesturing to Jack.

“Quite the surprise,” she answered, taking the chair, trying to look anywhere but at Jack.

Baraka went to bring water. Paige drew her napkin off the table and unfolded it over her lap.

“Are we still not talking?” Jack asked evenly.

She jerked her head up, stared at him. “This isn’t a game, Jack.”