I just… didn’t expect to have to so soon. Or genuinely enjoy myself so much around him. Or find him so goddamn stupidly sexy—
Stop, Harley.
Now that I’ve finished my cereal, I go out and get packing my tent. After all, sitting around isn’t going to make me feel any better.
**
The next few hours, I stay busy not talking, looking at, or even being around Greyson. Which isn’t all that hard, seeing as he seems to be trying for the exact same thing.
By the time we get to our new campsite, I’m dead tired.
So I’m barely looking as I stride up to the place where I’ll set up my tent.
That is, until I hear the hissing.
“Shit,” I groan.
Time grinds to a halt.
Triangular head? Check.
Diamonds on said head? Check.
Grey body? Mother-fucking-check.
Yep, that’s a fer-de-lance snake. You know, the lethal one.
Next thing I know, Greyson’s leaping in front of me, leg jabbing out at the thing. “Run!”
The snake dives, and I take off. I run as fast and hard as I can. Do snakes chase things? What about Greyson?
“Ah!” I say, as a rock gives way under my feet and I’m pitched forward, straight into a… whoa…
Something cracks into the center of my skull, and everything goes black.
**
I’m a snake. Bobbing up and down, up and down. I’m being held by a man. A big strong man. Up and down. Up and down.
My eyes flutter open a crack, and memory slaps back into me.
The fer-de-lance snake. Greyson, saving me. And now… I strain my eyes open further.
Greyson peers into my face. “You OK?”
“I…” My eyes close of their own accord, a pounding ache settling into my skull. “Will have to get back to you on that.”
“I mean it, Harley.” I can hear the intensity in his voice, even though I can’t see it on his face. “You seeing double? You should probably stay awake.”
“I… Yeah.”
We move along in silence for another minute or so, then I ask, “What happened?”
“Greyson saved you,” Samantha says flatly, “Risked his life doing so. Then you ran into a tree and blacked out.”
The last she says in the same tone you’d use to tell some idiot, “You tried eating cement and broke a tooth.”
Wish it were you, I grumble inwardly.
“But we got some good footage of the snake!” Manuel says, clearly trying to strike a positive note. “After we were all safely out of the way, of course.”
“Important thing is that you’re OK,” Greyson says. “And we’re almost back. We made great progress after a shortcut Russel found. May even make it back to the plane today.”
His tone is guarded and somehow I can tell there’s something else he isn’t saying.
“Home tomorrow?” I ask.
“Well…”
“What?”
“You bonked your noggin real bad,” Russel says impatiently. “They may not let you on the plane at all.”
“I may not let you on the plane,” Greyson says. “In fact, I can guarantee that I won’t. Not unless it’s completely safe.”
“Nothing’s… ever… completely safe,” I grumble.
An example, about how a friend of mine accidentally swallowed a toothbrush while brushing her teeth and ended up in the ER, occurs to me, then drifts away. I can barely form coherent sentences, let alone get on a plane. Maybe it’s for the best if I stay here for a bit longer.
But what does that mean? Surely, everyone else isn’t going to stick around until I’m fully healed, right?
The question throbs importantly along with the painful pulse in my head, then ebbs away.
The only thing I really feel like or want right now is… sleep. Nice… sleep…Chapter 15Greyson
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Russel asks me in an undertone as soon as it’s just the two of us in the lead again.
Not counting Harley in my arms, of course. Despite my efforts, she did drift off. But Jorge has some medical experience and claims she looks to be sleeping peacefully, so I’ve decided to let her be.
“Don’t want her worrying,” I tell Russel.
“Worrying.” Russel snorts. “If I got to stay at Nayara Springs, the last thing I’d be doing is worrying.”
“That’s not certain yet.”
Russel makes a skeptical sound. “Come on. Our pretty little señorita is out for the count, and we’ll reach the plane in under an hour. Ten out of ten says that you two are going to be gallivanting off to Nayara Springs, just like you told me.”
“I still don’t know why you can’t come too,” I say.
Russel chuckles. “Oh no, I know what you’re trying to do. But I have previous engagements.”
“You mean the dates you’ve lined up with seven different women on Tinder since this morning.”
Russel smirks, clearly pleased with himself. “What can I say, I’m a busy man.”
“And what am I trying to do?” I press.
“You like her. You’re afraid to be alone with her. Why not admit it?”
“I… No.”
Russel wags his finger in a teasing motion. “I saw youuu.”