Love In The Jungle (5 page)

“Mine too,” he remarked. I watched the way his large hands
gently set his bag on the ground, easing it underneath the seat in front of
him. “I’m sorry. I
am
happy to see you again. I thought”

“Thought what?”

He seemed surprised by my tone, but as he settled back in
his seat, an easy smile touched his lips. “I thought I might not ever see you
again… It wasn’t a very pleasant thought.”

I hummed in response, doing my best to keep my expression
appropriately skeptical, despite the fact my stomach knots were slowly morphing
into butterflies.

“Last night was—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on this flight?” I asked,
cutting him off and holding his gaze. He shrugged in a way that would have
seemed disrespectful on anyone else, but on him, it made my knees weak. He was
casual without being a laidback slob. Business casual. That was his whole aura.

He countered my question with, “Why didn’t
you
?”

“I…” I trailed off, trying to find the right words, but
unable to. Instead, I quickly licked my lips and pressed them together, a vivid
sensory memory flashing through my head of running said lips over his muscular legs.
He was obviously a runner. I tried very hard not to let my eyes dart down to
his legs.

“We were both strangers,” he sighed after a brief pause. I
pursed my lips. We definitely weren’t strangers anymore. “Neither of us were
obligated to share travel details with the other… This is just… a happy
coincidence.”

“We seem to have a lot of those,” I mused, and he nodded.

“That we do.”

I leaned back in my seat, my eyes darting to the flight
attendant and the passenger arguing about the size of her carry-on. The
attendant insisted it ought to be checked in. The passenger half-yelled that
she could make it fit under the seat. Everyone around them pretend they did not
see or hear the ordeal.

“What are you doing in Togo?” I asked, speaking the question
before I considered the consequences. “I mean, since we aren’t strangers
anymore, I figured you could tell me that much.”

His head bobbed up and down again. “I’m working with a rural
village… They need schools built, houses updated, water lines done. My company
does a lot of pro-bono work. We partner with this volunteer organization, and
I’m donating six months of my time to…”

I noticed his frown quickly matching mine, and he asked,
“What is it?”

I gave the name of the volunteer organization that I was
traveling with, then the name of the village. His face blanched—as did mine. We
were headed to the exact same place.

“Wow,” he breathed, and I placed a hand on my forehead. His
voice had gone very quiet. “Imagine that.”

“Another happy coincidence,” I muttered, fiddling with the
corner of my book. My eyes shot to him, hoping to catch an in-the-moment
reaction to the news. He didn’t look upset by any means. Surprised, yes. We
were both feeling a bit of that, I think. swallowing hard, I drew in a deep
breath, ready to tell him that he didn’t need to feel like he owed me
something—I could handle myself on my own—while we were at the village, but he
beat me to it.

“Do you want me to switch my seat back?” asked Grant. His
eyebrows arching in a way that was oddly adorable. It was like he didn’t want
to ask the question, but did so anyway. I shook my head.

“No. Stay.” I didn’t want him to leave. I wasn’t sure how I
felt about him beyond the fact that we had killer sex and his body was that of
a god, but I guess we had time to figure out if there was the potential for a
friendship in there. I mean, we had at least six months to be around each other
anyway; a relationship of some kind, good or bad, was bound to form in that
time period.

“Is this your first time volunteering?” he asked as both of
us buckled up, as per the flight attendant’s request. The plane rumbled,
shifting jerkily as everything got started up. The cabin grew louder from the
gears and cogs and mechanisms snapping in to place.

“I hope the damn engine is working now,” I said, ignoring
his question. He didn’t need to know I was a newbie. I didn’t want—or
need—special treatment from him just because we had some awesome sexual history
all of a sudden.

“I’m sure the mechanics know what they’re doing,” he
replied. I froze when his fingers touched my hand, as if to reassure me. “Don’t
worry.”

“I’m not,” I lied, keeping my hand still as he patted the
top of it. “I was just saying.”

“Okay.” He pulled his hand back, maybe realizing that he was
touching me for a little longer than necessary.

Or maybe not long enough. Another hard swallow. I turned my
gaze out the window, as if to watch us rumble down the tarmac. I might have been
sassier than I needed to be, but I didn’t know him. I didn’t know how he’d
react in this situation, how he’d treat me now that we were, in a way, working
together in a foreign place. I wasn’t sure if he’d feel obliged to stick by my
side, but I’d hoped to express to him that he didn’t need to do anything for
me. He didn’t owe me something. I didn’t need to cuddle up next to him at
night.

There was always the benefit of the doubt. I mean, he could
have been a totally sweet guy who was genuinely excited that we’d be traveling
together. Again, I didn’t know, and I probably wouldn’t know for a few more
days at least—not until we were settled.

But still, despite my newfound worries, I couldn’t ignore
the flicker of happiness in my stomach. The knots had hatched into full-blown
butterflies now, and they were making big arcs in there. Big, loopy arcs.

O
ur destination was a miniscule airport on the
edge of a stunning strip of thick forest. The landing was a little
questionable, and neither Grant nor I said anything about the wrist clutching
incident. I’m pretty sure my nails left some permanent marks on the underside
of his wrist, which I had clutched when we made a particularly sharp drop
toward the ground. Our little plane cresting over pockets of air in a way that
undoubtedly had everyone concerned. Once the plane leveled off, I pulled my
hand away and kept it squarely in my territory, mortified.

Grant barely reacted to the grab. He had a death grip on
both armrests, however, so I guess it’s safe to assume he didn’t even notice
the added pressure.

The airport was barely bigger than a warehouse, but given
the location, it made sense. Most of the planes landing or taking off were
smaller than ours, and I figured it was more for local short-range trips than
big, cross-country ventures.

People were moving before the seatbelt sign was off, but I
merely took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off the back of my neck with my
equally clammy hands. Grant mimicked me, and I noticed a slight tremble in his
hand when he brushed it through his hair.

“That was rough,” I heard him mutter over the commotion
around us. All I could do was nod. We were at the back of the plane, which
meant we were last to leave—and it was going to take forever to get out of
here. All I wanted to do was suck down a satisfying gulp of fresh air. I didn’t
care how humid or thick it was; I just wanted to get off this tiny death trap
and onto solid ground.

With Grant, apparently.

We kept the short flight civil. I read my book, ignoring the
way reading brought a twinge of a headache out behind my eye, and he read the
in-flight magazine with more focus than it deserved. The air was still a little
awkward between us, but I could only hope that that would fade in time. There
was no way I could spend six months feeling uncomfortable around him.

Mind you, there was no guarantee we’d be spending all six
months together. We hadn’t talked about why we volunteered or what we were
doing, but I didn’t really get the teacher-vibe off him. But then again, I
probably didn’t radiate said vibe either.

I took another deep breath, my eyes briefly drifting closed.

“Clara?” Grant’s tone was gentle, almost a delicate whisper,
and my eyelashes fluttered as they opened. Most of the plane had emptied out at
this point, and I wondered how long I’d been sitting with my eyes closed—not as
brief as I thought, apparently—as I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Are you
okay?”

“I’m fine,” I remarked, sitting up and tugging my backpack
out from under the seat. He already had this laptop bag ready to go, its thick
strap resting on his shoulder—a shoulder I’d clung to last night. I licked my
lips and blinked the memory away. “Just a bit of a headache.”

“It’s stuffy in here,” he offered, and I nodded. Using the
seat in front of me to hoist myself up, I sidled out of the tight space after
him, preferring to let him lead the way down the aisle. We were among the last
to get off, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a small shuttle van waiting
for us. After boarding, squished between Grant and the door, we rumbled along
the tarmac to the airport.

By now, all this passport nonsense and security checks were
a breeze. One of the upsides about landing at such a small airport was the lack
of fellow travelers: I was waiting at one of three baggage tracks twenty
minutes after landing. Grant strolled along the oval-shaped track, his hands in
his pockets and eyes peeled for his bag. I, on the other hand, couldn’t fathom
moving much. My lack of sleep from last night was catching up with me fast, and
I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the nearby metal bench and snooze the
afternoon away.

I mean, sure, I was also bursting with excitement. I was one
step closer to the village that I’d call home for the next six months—
of
course
I was amped. But also tired. The bags under my eyes probably told
the whole world that I needed an extra six to eight hours before being a
functional person again.

A jolt of wakefulness shot through me when I spotted the
neon green tag I’d attached to my duffel bag. It was sitting on top of an old
brown suitcase on the conveyor belt, moving at a snail’s pace around the black
oval. Whew. At least all my things made it the last leg of the air portion of
this journey. I grinned and headed straight for it, darting around a few of my
fellow travelers, eyes leaving it for only a second.

And a second was all someone needed, apparently. Once I’d
maneuvered around a rather large, loud family, I realized my bag was gone. I
stopped dead in my tracks, frowning. The brown suitcase was still there, but
there was no sign of the bright green tag I’d chosen specifically to help
distinguish my bag from the rest.

My eyebrows furrowed as I hurried around the crest of the
belt. Gone. Grant was along the other side of the oval, his hands still in his
pocket and his expression relaxed. I wanted to flag him down—two pairs of eyes
were better than one—but I quickly discovered that wouldn’t be necessary. I’d
found my bag: someone else had decided to make off with it.

“Excuse me!”

I jogged after the man clutching the familiar handles. I
could see where the pointed end of my hairbrush was poking out of the fabric.
The green tag was still there, along with the small lock I’d added too. The man
was only a young guy, probably in his early twenties, who looked like he
belonged on any American college campus—surrounded by clouds of marijuana, that
is.

“That’s my bag,” I said, keeping my tone friendly and civil
as I pointed down at the duffel. He shook his head.

“Nah, that’s mine,” was all I got as he tried to step around
me, his eyes darting up to the exit sign in the distance. But I stood my
ground. I hadn’t spent all these years in the corporate world without
developing a brusque, thick outer layer.

“No,” I snapped, my hand up to keep him from going anywhere.
“It’s mine. That green tag will have all my information in it.”

“Not smart to just leave your info exposed like that,” he
told me, weirdly serious about it. “I got the same tag. Can you stop causing a
scene?”

“What?” I wasn’t causing a scene. I hadn’t even managed to
catch the nearby security guard’s attention with my efforts to reclaim my bag.
“Just open the tag and I’ll show you—”

“Gotta catch a ride, man,” he chuckled, and then managed to
sidestep me with surprising speed. “See ya around.”

My eyes narrowed, and before he could get more than a foot
from me, I reached out and grabbed the back of my bag. “Nope.”

“Let go!” He gave a decent tug, which made me stumble
forward, but I managed to keep my grasp. My nails bit in to the black fabric.
He wasn’t leaving with my stuff.

“Is there a problem here?”

Grant’s presence should have made me relax, but for some
reason, I dug in more, as if I could handle this on my own.

“This bitch is trying to—”

“Hey,” Grant barked, immediately blocking the guy’s escape
route. He towered over the kid, those glorious shoulders completely
overshadowing him. I tried to hide my smirk. I’d never had someone intimidate
another person for me before. “Watch the language, pal.”

“This is my bag,” I got out, cutting the guy before he could
say anything else. “He’s trying to steal my bag.”

I grabbed the green tag with one hand and flipped it over.
Sure enough, my name was there in big, chunky letters, etched in permanent
marker by dear old dad the day of my flight. Grant’s eyes widened, and he
grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. Now the security guards were
looking. I noticed a few heads turn over Grant’s shoulders.

“You have five seconds to drop her bag, or you’ll be walking
out of here with no bag
and
no front teeth,” he hissed, the threat plain
as day. The thief dropped the bag instantly, and Grant gave him a shove in the
opposite direction. I didn’t bother to watch him flee. Instead, I clutched my
cushy duffel bag to my chest, thankful I’d been around to catch the guy in the
act. Surviving six months with no comfort from home would have been rough.

“Thanks for that,” I offered, cradling my bag to me, my
cheeks flushed. “I didn’t really want to wrestle it out of his hands, but…”

“You look like you could use a little extra muscle.” Grant
watched the guy barrel through the last security check-point with a slight
clench in his jaw, and the butterflies started to do their dance again. Once he
was gone for good, Grant’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he shot me a small smile
before adding, “I didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

“You were a welcome addition to the duffel rescue effort,” I
assured him with a nod. Our eyes met for a few moments, holding one another’s
gaze, and I was the first to look away. Pretending to check over my bag for
further infarctions, I nodded again when he told me he spotted his bag. In his
absence, I let out a deep breath, one I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and
hoped that this would be the last of the surprises for the day.