“That sucks.”
She let out a breath. She was meant to climb Everest, and after Everest Denali, then Elbrus…“It all seems rather pointless at the moment.”
His hand fell to her shoulder and squeezed. “I’ve got a phone you can borrow, if that helps.”
“I’d like that, thank you. I should speak with my daughter.”
“You’ve got kids?”
“Just the one. She’s in New York.”
“Oh, yeah? Where at? I live in Elmhurst.”
Rosemary must have looked as perplexed as she felt, because he clarified, “Queens. It’s in New York.”
“Oh. Yes. She’s a student. A film student. In Manhattan.”
“What’s her name?”
“Beatrice.”
He nodded.
They kept nodding at each other. Rosemary began to feel the prickling unease of sitting naked in a sheet next to the stranger she’d shagged, ignorant of his name, blandly agreeing with everything he said, relying upon him for the mobile she’d need to reach her daughter.
“How did you find me?” she asked. “My room, I mean.”
“I was keeping tabs after we landed. I figured I should check up on you.”
“They gave you my room number?”
He shrugged.
“I’m not sure what that means,” she pressed.
“I just asked at the desk. They don’t have much security.”
She must have seemed very much in need of caretaking, to inspire him to take such measures to check up on her. Rosemary didn’t like to think of that. Didn’t want to be so needy that she’d inspired this man to bend the rules.
Though he may not be the sort of man who felt bound by rules. She didn’t know him. He could be a different sort—the sort who had one-night stands all the time.
On the other hand, he was an ice doctor, and they were generally understood to be careful. And he’d made such a generous speech about the reason they’d done what they’d done, as though he’d required such an explanation to put his own mind at ease.
Her thoughts spun around in lazy circles, and she blinked, unsure what was required to bring herself to heel.
She’d lost the boat, cast up on the spit of sand, with river monsters crawling toward her. She was meant to light a fire, or pick up a stick and start beating them off.
She thought of her daughter. Her bright eyes. Her soft, round face.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You want to get something to eat? After you talk to your kid, I mean?”
His eyes were kind. She wanted to be able to tell him that she could sail her ship quite capably without assistance from here, thank you. That she would procure her own breakfast after a proper bath to rinse the evidence of their poor decision-making off her—
Oh. Bloody hell.