Page 32 of Falling for the Enemy

Her brow lifted cutely. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but I’ll take it, and at the moment—I’ve got nothing. It could go either way.”

I chuckled. “Even I could have told you that and I’ve barely got control of the five senses. What do you say? Should weplate up some delicious, rehydrated chicken and rice? Guava for dessert?”

Ava’s green eyes glittered at the word dessert. “Hmm, a fudge brownie or chocolate pie sounds way better. Any chance you know how to make dessert with powdered eggs, dried food and guava, but have it taste like a fudge brownie?”

“Yep, just need to grab my Harry Potter wand from my backpack. I’ll get dinner going. Your little pack of budding mushroom experts are going to be hungry soon.”

“Be right there.” She got up. “Just need to grab a glove.” Ava stepped over the log and caught the top edge with her foot. She pitched forward into my arms. I found myself in no hurry to release her.

She stared up at me. “Not sure I can stand any more humiliation today.” She didn’t hop out of my grasp right away. She finally stepped back. “Maybe I’ll just supervise. I’m not sure the stars are lined up for me today.”

“No? Well, let’s hope those stars start to behave soon; then maybe the storm will fly right past us.”

Ava walked next to me. “You like this, don’t you?” she asked with smirky grin. “Mr. Stomp My Feet and Complain Loudly is enjoying himself.”

“Only because I’ve gotten to see Professor Lovely humiliate herself, and since you are usually so darn pulled together and sure of yourself, it’s a nice boost for my own ego.”

Ava laughed. “I’m not sure a boost was needed, but so glad I could help.”

Chapter Twenty-One

AVA

My students were tuckered out after the long day. They ate the reconstituted chicken and rice, then we all sat around the fire lamenting the fact that we had no graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallow for s’mores before everyone dawdled off to bed. I’d taken a short nap after cutting my finger, so I was wide awake. I was also on edge. Harold had given us a brief and not terribly encouraging update. The storm was still heading toward Costa Rica, and while the winds hadn’t reached hurricane levels, it was still on track to do some damage.

I hadn’t been much help with dinner preparation, but my thumb had stopped throbbing, so I picked up the towel to dry the dishes that Jack washed. “You were quiet at dinner, Lo. What are you thinking?” He handed me a plate. Our gazes caught and held for a second before I pulled mine away.

“I’m thinking the insects and animals are very quiet out there tonight, which doesn’t bode well. I hate to have the trip cut short, but if a storm blows through here, and we have to evacuate, I can’t see hiking back in afterward. I’m not sure what the grant foundation will say, but we can’t stick it out here if it’s not safe.”

“I agree. It’s not ideal but then Mother Nature doesn’t really give a hoot about scientific expeditions or anything we humansget up to. She’ll roar through if she feels like it. I’m worried about the rather primitive, slow evacuation plan. Harold and Mia riding back and forth on dirt bikes, and slower on the way back with two riders, isn’t exactly ideal.”

“Do you think we should just assume the worst, pack up and head out in the morning?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s see what things look like when we wake up. If we do go with Harold’s plan, we can send Pam out on the first run, since she obviously has shut down about this whole adventure. Then I suppose we can pull names, or maybe there’s someone who wants to leave more than the rest—like Norm. And, of course, we’ll go out on the last ride.”

I took the next plate to dry. “Sounds like a plan.” Jack was staring into the tub of soapy water. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

“A little. Although after our lengthy discussion about how to make the perfect s’more, I wouldn’t mind getting back to real food, and by real, I mean laden with fat, salt and sugar—you know, everyone’s favorite nutrients.”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t mind a long hot shower or possibly even a bubble bath.”

Jack stopped and turned to look at me. “Never pictured you as a bubble bath type, Lo.”

I shrugged. “That’s because you only ever picture me as your nemesis, and it’s hard to think of a nemesis sitting in a floaty pile of iridescent, fragrant bubbles.”

Jack rolled his eyes up in thought.

“Oh my gosh, you’re trying to picture it right now, aren’t you?”

A sly smile crossed his face.

I whipped him with the dishtowel.

“Sorry, only human,” Jack said and turned back to the wash bin. He paused and looked over at me. “Lo, were we—not even sure if I should say this out loud—were we flirting just now?”

“Momentary lapse of sanity that I’m blaming on blood loss, the heat and the feeling of impending doom.”

Jack pushed the frying pan into the water. “Not sure if you bled enough to call it ‘blood loss,’ really. And, of course, the one thing that Brimley would frown on more than the two of us as adversaries, is the two of us as—well—as whatever the opposite of adversarial would be.”

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