Page 45 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
Ivy wipes her brow with a bandana she tucked into the back pocket of her jean shorts, and takes a long swig of water. “Well, I think I may have found the ultimate cure tothe Hawaiian bonfire hangover—a fourish-mile hike to a campsite in the Na Pali park.”
“Yeah? You think you’re cured?”
“Absolutely. I was either going to be cured or die somewhere back there.”
He laughs and swigs water, too. “You’re right. I feel like a million bucks now, out of pure survival instinct.”
They get to work setting up camp, and Ivy finds it just as satisfying as drawing. She likes the way she knows exactly what to do, from years spent camping as a child and teen, as she sets up her tent and then helps Oliver find a flat rock to set up their camp stove, solar-battery-powered cooler, and a plastic bin filled with their provisions.
The sun is high in the sky by the time they’re finished.
“Hungry?”
“Yes! Especially after that hike.”
“Hang on, I packed some sandwiches and fruit in the cooler. Let’s have those, and then let’s both head off and get to work.”
She watches him as he sorts through the cooler. He seems perfectly at home out here, too, and incredibly happy. He’s got a bandana tied around his hair, and his flannel shirtsleeves are rolled up. Music is playing on the small speaker he brought—not Christmas music this time. She recognizes the same Leon Bridges song that was playing the day he showed her around the apartment.
“Can I help?”
“Nope. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Thanks, I’m just going to go change, then.”
In her tent, Ivy peels off her sweaty hiking clothes and puts on her favorite Roots sweatpants and the only T-shirt she brought, from John’s of Bleecker Street.
Oliver grins as she emerges from her tent wearing it.
“John’s! The best pizza in the Big Apple.”
“Glad you agree. Holly and I go back and forth between John’s and Joe’s, but I think John’s wins the prize on ambience alone.”
“Makes me miss NYC, seeing that shirt. I’ll have to get out there for a visit next year.”
She sits down in a camping chair he’s unfolded and accepts a small plate with a sandwich and some cut-up pineapple.
“Wow, if this is roughing it with you, I think I like it!”
“I’ve never understood why ‘roughing it’ means freeze-dried food or jerky to some people. I even have wine for tonight, to go with my famous campsite pasta,” he says, pulling a soft-sided flask from the cooler box near his chair, then two foldable glasses, which he unfolds and shows off. “Still ice-cold. That is, if you’ll be able to handle it after last night.” He puts the flask and glasses back into the cooler.
“Last night,” Ivy repeats. “It actually feels like that was days ago. I think I’ve hiked enough and sweated enough that my system is entirely reset. Bring on the wine.”
“Afterwe get our work done.”
“Exactly. The perfect reward.”
“Glad Larry convinced you to come out here yet?”
“I’ve been glad since the moment we set off. This place is incredible.”
“It is. I’ve learned over the years that Larry’s ideas are generally good ones.”
“How long have you two been friends?”
“About a decade,” Oliver says. “She came to Hawaii for a surf trip once—she’s from Mexico City—and decided to just stay. I admire that so much. She saved up, bought the dive bar she worked at, and made it into something awesome, earned enough to buy the house. She’s tough and resourceful. She’s been a godsend for me over the years, making sure I have a home base when I’m here, rather than just wandering around the world, aimless.”
She listens to what he’s saying, nodding along—but with every word, the more she learns about him, she finds herself growing more attracted, and it goes beyond the physical. The electricity is back, just the way it was last night. It wasn’t just the strong cocktails, or the cozy bar setting, or the mood she was in. It’s him. She likes him—way too much. She gets up from her chair and takes his plate from him, brushing it off with a napkin along with hers before putting it back in the cooler.
