by Ava Miles
Michaela walked toward Hargreaves in the short aisle. Part of her wished her aunt’s first husband were still alive so she could kick him to death. Instead, she said, “You named a boa Peanut? I love you, Aunt. Here, Marvin, don’t be scared.”
He croaked seeing her, his light blue eyes blinking up at her.
“You poor baby, being awakened out of sleep by all these people. Boyd should have introduced you properly. He’s a bad man, isn’t he? Oh, I’ve missed you.”
“You know this beast, Michaela?” her uncle asked, sucking in a breath.
“Oh, he’s no beast.” Clara leaned forward from the middle row she and Arthur had chosen. “Look at his coloring. He’s splendid.”
“Yes, he’s Boyd’s. And I’m glad you see the beauty of him, Aunt Clara. He’s a very special Tokay gecko.” Her ability to gain the gecko’s trust had shocked Boyd, and he often said it was the reason he’d decided to live with her. Love him, love his reptile, he’d said on their second date. His tone had made it sound like a joke, but she’d known better than to believe that. And so she’d enacted a patient campaign to make Marvin love her. Losing him in their breakup had been hard on her. She’d missed his loud croaking and surprisingly playful spirit.
“A Tokay,” her aunt said. “Amazing. You’ll have to tell me more about him.”
“Sure thing, but first, Hargreaves, I’m going to open my hands. If you’d put Marvin down in my palms, release him, and step back quickly, he won’t bite you.”
Hargreaves gave her an inscrutable look. “Am I to understand this reptile will be accompanying us, miss?”
“How do you like my little fella?” Boyd asked, appearing in the doorway of the plane. “He’s good to have along in the field. He chases off unwanted animals that wander into camp at night. One time, Marvin terrorized a male baboon who’d torn open my tent. Remember, Mickey? You got up to pee and found them squared off in mortal combat.”
She’d almost screamed, but she’d caught herself. Baboons were notorious for being both ill-tempered and unpredictable. “It was a Hallmark-card moment for sure. Okay, Hargreaves. Drop the lizard.”
Hargreaves did as she’d instructed. “I’m delighted this fellow will be joining our party, miss, as I’m sure everyone else is. I only hope you don’t expect me to converse with it. I’m not versed in reptile.”
“Just talk to him like he’s a friend, Hargreaves,” Michaela said, stroking the top of his head, eliciting a croak.
“I didn’t know scientists spoke to their reptiles,” Hargreaves said.
Michaela shrugged. “I talk to every reptile I work with. Maybe I’m weird.”
“If she is, I am too,” Boyd said in solidarity.
“We lose one reptile in Customs only to pick up another,” her uncle said dryly. “What’s next?”
“Did I hear you call Iggie a lizard, Mr. Hale?” Boyd asked in delight, coming up behind her. “A poisonous one for sure.”
She felt his body heat and knew he was using the opportunity to touch her hair, likely on the pretext of calming Marvin, who was peering up at him.
“First, it’s plain old Arthur, and yes, I called Iggie a lizard, although ‘asshole’ seems more apt. Now, any more surprises, young man?” her uncle asked, giving Clara’s arm a comforting pat even though he seemed the most upset of the group.
“None I can think of except that we’re sleeping in tents tonight,” Boyd said. “Michaela, let’s resume with the repack. We’ll be airborne in a jiffy, everyone.”
“Tents?” she asked. “You said, and I quote, ‘super nice accommodations.’” She didn’t mind personally, but she’d hoped for one night in a safari lodge to help her family acclimate.
“They’re nice tents,” Boyd said. “Of course, if anyone wants to stay here in Nairobi at the InterContinental Hotel, I won’t say a word to Connor.”
He was hoping they would bow out. She gave him the stink eye to let him know she saw through his devious plan. Now who was playing games? He only laughed and ruffled her hair.
“Like we’d turn around now,” her aunt said in her best haughty tone. “Young man, see to my repacking before I poke you with my knitting needles for suggesting we’d abandon our niece.”
“We’re along for the entire ride, Boyd,” her uncle said, no-nonsense to the bone. “Stop insulting us and trying to make us beg off. Trust me, we’re much tougher than you imagine.”
“You’d have to be,” Boyd said, caressing her nape. “This one is so stubborn I call her Rocks For Brains sometimes, but I love her. Come on, Mickey. Let’s handle this luggage situation and get going.”
“I have this horrible feeling I’m going to want to kill him before we finish this trip,” her aunt said after Boyd left, buckling herself in as everyone took their seats. “Is that how you felt, dear, when you were dating?”
“Some days.” She stowed Marvin against her chest and followed Boyd out of the plane to see about her aunt’s luggage.
And then there were the other days, she thought, when she hadn’t wanted to kill him at all.
She’d wanted to stay with him forever.
Chapter 4
Michaela’s family—Boyd was including Hargreaves for efficiency—was tougher than he’d expected. At eighty and newly retired, Arthur clearly hadn’t lost any of his grit. His wife was still something of a mystery. He knew from Michaela, who’d told him the story before they broke up, that Clara had been estranged from the family for decades over a business matter. Seeing Clara back in the fold gave him more hope.
But he still planned to lose Michaela’s chaperones—without offending them, of course.
Hence their camp. Although there were plenty of high-end tented safari camps in the Maasai Mara, this wasn’t one of them. Theirs was a simple setup in the literal middle of nowhere. Only her relatives hadn’t seemed peeved. They’d practically cooed over the sweeping vista of golden grasses swaying on the savannah and a trio of giraffe running to the west as the golden sun descended in the turquoise sky. Okay, Boyd had to admit the scene took his breath away too.
After all the gasps and awe, Clara had led Arthur over to the tent that had been assigned to them, her posture that of a French aristocrat on the way to meet Madam Guillotine, and swept the canvas aside as if bracing for the worst. She’d disappeared inside, and he’d cocked his ear for any muttering as her husband joined her, closing the flaps tightly. Hargreaves seemed to be inspecting the small mess tent and their makeshift dining area.
Michaela strode up to him and poked him with her finger. “You’re purposely trying to get them to turn tail and run.”
“Ouch.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest, hoping she wouldn’t kick him next. “When was the last time you got a manicure?”
“Don’t try and distract me. You’d better be nice to them. They’re my family. Now let go of my hand.”
Nice? A nice man wouldn’t have bribed that Customs official to detain Iggie for a few days. If he’d learned one thing about his former supervisor, it was that the man had a knack for offending everyone he came across. Which was exactly what they didn’t need. He’d figured a few days of Customs hell might humble Iggie. Or perhaps convince him to take the first flight back to California.
He still didn’t buy Connor’s motivations for including Iggie on the trip. His gut told him the Merriam brother known as the Big Bad Wolf was up to something. Maybe Boyd was a little paranoid, but he’d learned to trust his gut.
“We can talk about it in my tent,” he said, looking her square in the eyes.
“You mean these accommodations?” She swept her free hand toward one of the tents. “They’re too basic to be called tents.”
Yeah, he was keeping them basic. No swanky safari lodges for this crew. Upriver and at the Valley of Stars, they’d have to turn real basic. If the city slickers couldn’t hack it, it was best for everyone if they figured it out sooner rather than later.
“You know perfectly well this is a decent campsite,”
Boyd said, stroking the sensitive backs of her knuckles, causing her to gasp. She hadn’t pulled her hand back, and so he was continuing their dance. “I rented beds for Pete’s sake, Mickey, instead of just going with bedrolls by the fire. We also have a cook named Jaali, and Simon’s here to help set up and be our park guide. If it were just you and me, you know we wouldn’t have anyone else along besides Joseph. We—”
“After close inspection,” Hargreaves suddenly called out, approaching them, “I believe this setup is acceptable.”
Michaela tugged on her hand, and Boyd frowned as he relented and let it go. Damn butler seemed to be in the chaperone camp as well. “I’m glad it meets your standards, Hargreaves.”
The man’s inscrutable face didn’t alter one bit at his sarcasm. “I have met Masters Jaali and Simon, and they are both professional and proficient in their work. The bush kitchen is quite innovative, I must say. Shall I assume we’re having the chickens in the icebox for dinner? I can help with the preparations, sir.”
Dear God, what was he going to do with this man? Michaela bit her lush bottom lip, struggling not to laugh. “Hargreaves, please call me Boyd, and should our cook and other helpers need anything, I’ll be sure to ask you. For now, why don’t you go to your tent and get cleaned up? I had them warm water for showers for everyone. Each of us gets two minutes given our water rations.”
“Since the shower is basically the size of a flower pot,” Michaela said, “two minutes is optimistic.”
“I did say basic, Michaela. Actually, Hargreaves, my mother used to serve in a capacity not unlike yours. Why don’t you treat this as a vacation? She always said her work was never done too, a quality I admire, but surely everyone needs a break.”
Michaela cleared her throat. “Boyd’s mother is a maid at a luxury hotel in downtown San Francisco, Hargreaves.”
“Has been for over twenty years now, working herself to the bone,” Boyd said. “I’m hoping this find will change all that. She deserves retirement like everyone else and a nicer house in a safer neighborhood.”
Michaela gave him a sharp glance before turning back to Hargreaves. “Of course, a butler’s duties are very different than a maid’s, I expect, but I’m no expert.”
The man’s face didn’t slip an inch, his formal but welcoming smile still in place. “I’m sure Mrs. McClellan is an admirable woman, but yes, miss, my role as Mr. and Mrs. Hale’s butler is very clear. I serve them in their every need. This trip will be no different.”
He didn’t begrudge the man his duty, but seriously, he was going to have to put his foot down. It struck him that he could take a different tack. “Hargreaves, I appreciate your stance, but these men I’ve hired to help us… They need the money to feed their families. You take that away, I won’t have any use for them. Also, it’s an insult in their culture, and not one I’ll abide.”
There, that was a more compelling argument, and it had the benefit of being somewhat true.
Michaela put her hand on his back, a gentle warning.
Although her touch pleased him—it always pleased him—he wasn’t going to heed her this time. “Also, when was the last time you roasted anything on a spit over a campfire? Or cooked with local ingredients like banana leaves or matoke and dhania?”
“Matoke are plantains and dhania is fresh coriander,” the man informed him. “It has been some time since I’ve cooked fresh fish in banana leaves, but the dish is quite satisfying as I recall.”
A snort came from Michaela, and he had to give her points for not laughing outright. This man was a marvel. “Fine, you know your ingredients. All I’m saying—obviously poorly—is that this isn’t your usual show, and it might be better for you to take a back seat. Help Clara and Arthur in whatever ways they require but leave the rest of the arrangements to us. Okay?”
“Your view of butlers is quite limited, isn’t it, sir?” Hargreaves asked, cocking one perfect eyebrow in his direction.
“Growing up where I did didn’t afford me a view, Hargreaves,” he said, his smile tight.
“Oh, stop,” Michaela said, pinching his back before dropping her hand. “Hargreaves, you always seem to find a way to help people without making a big deal out of it. I trust you’ll do the same here. Boyd isn’t used to working nicely with others, which is why the concept is so foreign to him.”
“Hey now—”
“Boyd also likes to be in charge,” she continued, waving her hand in the air. “Let him think this camp is his purview. You and I know better.”
“Yes, miss,” Hargreaves said, his mouth tipping up more on the right side.
So the man was amused. Terrific.
“I’ll see to my ablutions before dinner then, if you’ll excuse me.” Hargreaves bowed and then turned around and headed to his tent.
Michaela poked Boyd in the chest the moment he disappeared. He didn’t mind. If he could get her to keep poking at him, he could get her to listen to him and reconcile.
“You should have told him it upsets you to see people working so hard in hospitality, especially at his age, because of your mother.”
Bull’s-eye. “Leave my mother out of this.” She was still cleaning up after rich people, and he was counting the days until he had enough money to pluck her out of that life. He just hoped she wasn’t too prideful to accept what he wanted for her.
“Fine,” she said after a moment, her face falling. “We won’t talk about your mother issues. Just stop pissing people off.”
He sucked in a long breath. “Who am I rankling? I’m a likable guy.”
Her snort carried across the camp, making Joseph and their two helpers look over. “Now, tell me where we’re going?” she insisted. “I’m tired of all the secrecy about our itinerary.”
“I love this game of cat and mouse, if only because it’s rankling you so. You’re so hot when you’re rankled,” he said.
“Is a knee to the balls enough rankling?” she asked.
He laughed and leaned into her a little. She cleared her throat, a move he knew covered a whimper. “That wouldn’t be nice.”
“You don’t think?” She reached up to touch him, trailing her hand up his chest and into his hair. That slow, hot touch had him caging her hips with his hands. Was she going to kiss him? Could it really be that easy?
Then she yanked on the ends hard.
“Ouch!”
“You deserve it for rankling me. I’m taking my brief shower since the water is warm. I’ll see you at dinner.”
He stepped in front of her before she could leave. “Wanna conserve water?”
“You never give up, do you?” She laughed but trailed her hands across his chest again. “I think I’ll pass.”
The way her fingers trailed across his muscles said otherwise. “What about sharing a tent? We’ve never been apart on a trek before. I’ll be lonesome without you.”
She cast a lingering look at his crotch before lifting her eyes to his. “I was wrong to kiss you at the overlook. Now it’s all we can think about. But we’re both adults, and giving in to it would be madness.”
“At least you admit it.” That was progress he could work with.
“I’m off to clean up.”
“Come on, Mickey,” he called after her. “You know it’s only a matter of time.”
She gave him a rude gesture before disappearing inside her tent. All in all, things were going pretty well. Iggie was out of the way, and Michaela was touching him back and talking about wanting him. He signaled Joseph over.
“Any word from your cousin?” he asked softly.
“Sironka will be at the meeting point the day after tomorrow,” the man replied just as softly. “He will lead us to the boats on Tuesday as planned. Of course, something could delay him, but it’s unlikely. Even if he wasn’t moran, he’s protected by strong medicine.”
Boyd knew enough of the Maasai language to know Joseph meant warrior. “Always good to send the baddest guy from the village protected by the gods.”
&
nbsp; Joseph laughed. “His mother named him Sironka on purpose. She had a vision of him being a strong warrior but not one who sought out fights. It means ‘the pure one.’”
More talk of visions. The modern world often felt divested of magic and a sense of wonder, but both things still thrived in certain places, and Boyd mostly loved it. He knew Michaela did too. Unless, of course, it turned too dark. Legends could end up hurting people too.
Regardless, he doubted he could use the visions to persuade Michaela to embark on the trip without waiting for Iggie. She’d need some solid convincing. The more miles he put between them and the head scientist, the better. Once they got into the restricted area and dense forest, Iggie wouldn’t be able to follow without a guide.
“Joseph, I’m going to sing in the shower and change before dinner. Everything set for tonight?”
The man smiled. “Yes. Simon even gathered wildflowers for a bouquet for Michaela like you asked. Said he ran into a lion who looked him over before moving on. He joked that maybe the lion had a fight with one of his lionesses and needs flowers to get back in her good graces.”
Boyd had run the risk of telling Joseph about his “temporary” fight with Michaela, but time was ticking on his plan. Would the medicine man and woman reject them if they showed up and they weren’t back together? He didn’t want to go there.
“Let’s keep those flowers for tomorrow morning. I bought a bouquet in Nairobi for her.” Flowers were easier to come by in the city market, and these had looked to be a combination of local blooms and ones flown in from South Africa, whose flower season was in its final throes.
“Dr. Michaela is not as mad as I expected her to be after your description,” Joseph said. “Still, she isn’t sharing your tent.”
“Hopefully a temporary situation, Joseph,” he said, waving a hand at himself. “Who can resist all this? She’ll be like the tick bird to my rhino. See you at dinner.”