Page 23 of Chasing Paradise

Was I just looking for things again, or was there something cagey about what he was saying? Or, maybe,notsaying?

He scrambled my instincts.

I didn’t like it.

“We can drink from the cactus, right?” I asked as I peeled my orange.

“Yeah. It’s not pleasant, though.”

“Why not?”

“Tastes something like a cross between okra and green beans.”

“Ew.”

“Not a fan of vegetables?” he asked, shooting a surprisingly open smile at me.

“I like them just fine. Chopped up and served with fried corn chips. Or sprinkled on top of tacos. Maybe mixed into a burrito…”

“Eat,” he said as I held my peeled fruit in my hand. “You haven’t had anything but that blueberry muffin, have you?”

“Well, you haven’t exactly given me a chance to have a nice, sit-down meal, have you?” I popped a piece of juicy orange in my mouth. My eyes closed, savoring the taste. “Or even a damn cup of coffee.”

“There was some amazing coffee back in Guayaquil.”

“Shut up.”

To that, his lips curved up, but he had the good sense to keep his chuckle to himself as he finished his banana and reached for an orange.

“Where’s your backpack?” I asked, my gaze watching his hands work the peel off the orange. Which was totally not a sexy thing to do. So why was my sex clenching hard enough for me to have to press my thighs together to ease the ache?

“Left it around that bend,” he said, nodding his chin off in the distance.

“Why? Aren’t you worried about it?”

“What’s gonna happen to it? We’re the only people here.”

That was a fair point.

“Do you have any water?” I asked. Sure, the fruit from the juice was good and all. But I was reasonably sure it wouldn’t be enough. At least not if we were stuck here for longer than a day or two.

“We’re good on water.”

Again, there was something kind of… strange in how he said that, in the way he wouldn’t look at me.

Before I could read more into it, though, he was done peeling the orange… and held it out to me.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

I reached for it. But the immediate sizzle as his fingers brushed mine almost had me snatching my hand back.

Wick’s gaze cut to mine, something simmering behind those brilliant green eyes, and I found myself wishing I knew him well enough to know what that look meant.

“How are the bananas?” I asked, carefully taking the orange out of his hand without coming into contact with his skin again.

“Not sweet yet, but they’re decent.”

“Is there a lot more of this?” I asked, gesturing toward the shirt still loaded down with fruit.

---