Page 12 of Out of Luck in the Outback

This is the thirteenth hotel or hostel I’ve been to today, and I’m starting to think I’ve come on the Australian equivalent of spring break in Florida. “Do you know of anything nearby? An associated chain? Anything with a room? At this point, I’d take a manger in the back.”

The woman squints and looks over the desk at my stomach. “Are you going to give birth in it?”

“The manger would be for me.” It’s that or a bus bench for the night.

The woman shakes her head at me without a care in the world that a single woman traveling alone could have to spend the night on the streets. Maybe I should just cut my losses, max out my credit card, and take a train back to Sydney. I could spin my adventure article about cross-country train accommodations.

Then again, Mr. Gosnell said I need to make him want to travel to Australia. Nobody that reads about the sleeper train accommodations is going to start saving for two years to come here.

“Thanks anyway,” I mumble, and the woman at the desk goes on with her work, shuffling papers aside and picking up the phone to help a guest that probably needs more towels or shampoo.

I’d give my left hand for a hot shower and a warm bed. I haven’t showered since last night after we switched trains in Adelaide. I did my best to keep cool with Maddox yesterday, but he went to the bar car, and I went to the quiet car. It worked out after the awkward and arousing romance book reading and being interrupted by the twins. I felt awkward and said a hasty goodbye to Maddox and the twins this morning.

I’ve looked for a room since noon and can’t find a thing. I look at my watch and lament that it’s almost eight at night, and I have no idea where I’m sleeping.

I walk out the door to the hotel and get punched in the face by cool air. It was about ninety degrees when I went in to ask about a room. But the sun has gone down, and I rub my naked arms as goosebumps form on my skin. Great, at least I thought it would be warm at night if I had to sleep outside. Stupid me, but when have I ever been to a desert?

“Calvert?” a voice behind me says, and I almost throw up with relief.

My toes curl in my sneakers, my stomach swoops, and my knees feel like they don’t have bones. I turn and almost fall over. He notices and sticks his arm out to catch me, touching my elbow. “You’re still here,” I mumble.

“Yeah, I was going to see if they had a room.” He nods to the hotel I just came out of.

“Full. I tried.”

“Damn. Everything’s full.” He doesn’t seem upset about it. If anything, he’s at ease. His hands are tucked into his pants pockets, and he’s looking at the sky as it darkens around us, like he doesn’t care that we’re essentially homeless for the night.

“This is like my romance books.”

“I don’t have a motorcycle, and I’ve never killed anyone.”

My arms itch to pull him to me so I can melt into him. I’m in a foreign country with a limited budget and no place to sleep, and I feel safe with him, even if I avoided him for the last day. He’ll figure it out, or we’ll figure it out together. Sure, he could still be someone like BTK, but he didn’t kill me on the train. I think I can trust him. Mostly because Ireallywant to trust him.

“I like to read the one bed trope in addition to motorcycle and mafia. There’s probably one bed left in this town, and we’ll have to share if we find it.”

He flushes and rubs his knees together. Did I turn him on and he’s trying to adjust himself without making it obvious? Something about that strikes me as funny…and incredibly sexy. I’m about five seconds from rubbing my own thighs together.

“Well, I don’t think there’s even one bed. You needed spontaneous, and you sure got spontaneous.” He looks at the sky and the buildings around us before pulling his phone out of his pants. “I have an idea.”

“Do the twins have a room? We could sleep on the floor.”

“I didn’t really ask where they were. My bad. How are you at camping?”

“Camping? Like in the outback with the poisonous snakes and spiders?”

“You have poisonous snakes in Illinois.”

“Notthatpoisonous. Our snakes have the good grace to give us an hour or so lead to get to antivenom. Australian snakes are not that charitable. They can take a person of my weight out in about five seconds.”

“Good point, but we’ll find a good spot. Also, it’s getting cold. Snakes won’t be out. Here,” he says, clicking on his phone. His eyes light up. “There’s a free camping area not too far from here, and they even have camp rental equipment. What do you say? I promise I’ll stomp on your sleeping bag before you get in it, and I’ll keep you safe.”

“Free is on my budget.”

Maddox spins my shoulders around in the direction of the campground, and we start walking. This is an adventure, right? I’m supposed to go with the flow, write an amazing adventure story, and keep my job. Mr. Gosnell will have no room to complain about me camping in the bush under the stars. I slip my hand into the nook of Maddox’s arm and let him lead me to the camping rental place.

Two hours later, I’m tucked into a questionable-smelling sleeping bag we’ve rented from a woman named Charmaine and out of breath as I look above me. “Those stars can’t be real.”

Maddox rolls out his sleeping bag and stomps around our camping area a little. My sleeping bag is closer than I’d normally put it when I’m camping with someone who’s practically a stranger, but no way in hell I’m going to sleep in a sleeping bag out here without being two inches from someone that can kill a spider or snake.

---