Wild

by Jill Sorenson

  She scrambled to put on her panties under the water, face flaming. Then she held a towel to the front of her body as she stepped out of the spa. Mateo seemed amused by her modesty. Maybe everyone in Panama was a free-spirit nudist. Tucking the terry cloth around her chest, she went to retrieve Emma.

  “Thank you,” Chloe said, embarrassed.

  “No problem.”

  God, his accent. His smile. His body. Flustered, she glanced around for the backpack with their extra clothes. He must have left it in the room, because she didn’t see it. She wondered if he wanted to go in the spa to wash up. He probably didn’t care that much. The dip in the pool had looked refreshing enough, and he seemed content. So did Emma. She sucked her fingers and rested her head against his shoulder. Not reaching for Chloe.

  An hour earlier, Chloe had been touched by the sight of Emma holding Mateo’s hand. Now their easy bond disturbed her.

  Emma had never been shy around people. She’d grown close to Josh in a short time, and she often chatted with strangers. But this situation was different. Chloe’s feelings for Mateo weren’t brotherly.

  She hadn’t dated since her breakup with Lyle, for good reason. Over the past year, she’d been focused on healing herself and taking care of Emma. She didn’t know if she wanted her daughter to get attached to a strange man.

  Especially a man Chloe knew nothing about. One who wasn’t from here, and might not stick around.

  Mateo carried Emma to the lounge chair and set her down. He said something in Spanish and pointed to the second-floor terrace. Chloe clutched the towel to her chest, shivering. As he walked away in his wet shorts, she identified his underwear as basic white briefs. Both layers were soaked to near transparency.

  Goodness.

  Chloe had never seen a man in tighty whiteys before. The few boys she’d been with before Lyle had worn baggy boxers. Lyle preferred skinny jeans with no underwear at all, which was pretty gross. Maybe Mateo’s briefs offered more support for athletic activities. Soccer had apparently developed his butt into a work of art.

  She sat down with Emma, remembering how his body had felt against hers this morning. His erection nudging her bottom. His thumb brushing her nipple.

  “Milk,” Emma said, patting Chloe’s chest.

  This request extinguished all of her sexy thoughts like a cold splash. “No milk.”

  “Hungwy.”

  “We’ll have a snack as soon as we get dressed.”

  Mateo reappeared with the backpack and handed it to Chloe. She found the teddy bear, which Emma threw down on the ground in a fit of pique. Chloe wrestled Emma into a diaper and a clean T-shirt while Mateo stood nearby.

  Emma wasn’t very cooperative, and Chloe’s towel slipped down to her waist. To her surprise, Mateo stepped in to take the squirming child off Chloe’s hands. He picked up the teddy bear and tried to distract her.

  Emma flung it into the pool. He laughed at her antics and retrieved it.

  Shaking her head, Chloe donned the yoga pants and T-shirt she’d tucked away for herself. She offered him his soccer jersey. He thanked her and put it on. After she laid out their wet clothes to dry, they went inside to raid the café. There was bread with butter, canned corn and garbanzo beans. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, and the kitchen smelled sour, but the chocolate chip cookies they ate for dessert were very tasty.

  After dinner, Emma got cranky again, which was typical tired-toddler behavior. Chloe hobbled upstairs with her cane to put Emma to bed. The room was a double, with snowy white pillows and plump comforters. Emma crawled into the blankets with her damp teddy bear. Chloe stroked her daughter’s hair until she fell asleep.

  Chloe straightened to study Emma, who looked so sweet and angelic in repose. Her little mouth was pursed, curly hair in disarray. Even on bad days, Chloe’s love for her daughter grew. The tantrums and trials brought them closer together. She tucked a blanket around Emma and kissed her chubby cheek. When Chloe rose, she found Mateo watching her. He’d put the first-aid supplies on the table.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, anxious. Her bandage needed to be changed, but she wasn’t eager for him to do it. His doctoring skills left a lot to be desired.

  She lowered her yoga pants carefully and sat down in a chair by the table. He didn’t insist on helping her take off the old bandage. She put it aside, noting the stained material. Her thigh was discolored with bruises, the laceration ugly. It needed more than a Band-Aid, but she’d have to make do. She smeared some antibiotic ointment on squares of gauze and secured it to her leg with heavy white tape.

  When she was finished, Mateo gestured to the clock radio beside the bed. She nodded her permission. Emma was a very sound sleeper. He fidgeted with the channels at a low volume until he found a clear station. Chloe listened to the emergency information with interest. The entire city was under evacuation. Survivors had been advised to head east on foot. Recovery efforts were underway, but access to the affected areas was limited. The closest shelter was the football stadium, miles beyond Balboa Park.

  Chloe’s heart sank at the news. What if the naval hospital was deserted? They’d have an even longer journey tomorrow.

  Mateo put away the first-aid supplies and took out the map, spreading it across the table. She pointed to the football stadium. He put his finger on the hospital first, and then moved it to the stadium. She agreed to this plan.

  The radio station switched from harsh warnings to soft music, as if playing nostalgic songs might ease some of the world’s suffering.

  Mateo folded the map, staring at the remnants of the sunset through the open patio doors. The sky was brilliant again, a rapidly fading haze of orange fire and salmon pink. “Regreso,” he said, leaving the room.

  He came back with a surprise: two candles, two wineglasses and a bottle. Her stomach fluttered with a mixture of delight and dismay. She was thrilled by the thoughtful gesture, disappointed she couldn’t partake.

  When he set the glasses and candles on the table, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t drink wine.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  He muttered something under his breath, maybe a mild criticism of her failure to enjoy the finer things in life, such as red meat and fine liquor. Before she could tell him to go ahead and drink the wine, he left again, returning with Perrier.

  She lifted her glass and smiled.

  He poured sparkling water into both glasses. It wasn’t cold, and it didn’t taste that great, but she felt classy. He lit the candles and took the seat across from her. Slow, melancholy music continued to play on the radio. Songs of unrequited love, she imagined. Last night she’d joked that she’d never been on such a fancy date. This topped it. Drinking tepid Perrier by candlelight with an apocalypse view.

  She should have felt letdown by the realization that this was her most romantic moment. Somehow, she didn’t.

  “I need a fancy dress,” she said lightly.

  His face brightened with an idea. Standing, he walked over to the closet and opened it, as if he’d forgotten something inside. There was a dark suit hanging on the rack, along with a garment bag. The room’s inhabitants must have left the items behind. Chloe rose from the table to join him, smothering a giggle. He unzipped the garment bag. It contained a gorgeous champagne-colored gown, several sizes too large for her.

  Mateo grabbed the suit and held it up to his body, wagging his brows. It wasn’t his size, either, but he didn’t appear to care.

  “Should we try them on?” she asked, scandalized.

  He didn’t have to say anything, because she already knew his answer: yes.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JOSH DIDN’T THINK Helena appreciated his valiant rescue.

  When he saw the badger go after her, he’d reacted on instinct. His attempt to grab the animal by the scruff had backfired. Instead of thanking him for trying, she’d scolded him and treated him like he was stupid.

  He was stupid. But that was beside the point.

>   Blood trickled down his left arm and dripped from his fingertips as he and Helena exited the ruins of the shop. He wiped his hand against his thigh in annoyance. The bites hurt—that little fucker had sharp teeth—and Helena’s indifference added insult to injury.

  “I’ll drive,” she said.

  He fished the keys out of his pocket with a wince. The honey badger weighed about twenty pounds, tops. He felt as if he’d gone a few rounds with a grizzly. His arms were scratched raw and chewed to shreds. Now that the adrenaline had started to wear off, he was woozy. His knees wobbled as he opened the passenger door and eased into the seat. That was all he needed, to faint after being attacked by a glorified rodent.

  Then he’d look weak and stupid.

  Helena drove the short distance to the animal hospital. “I’ll grab some bandages.”

  “Why bother? They’ll just get wet when I wash up.”

  She ignored him and hopped out, returning a minute later with a box of first-aid supplies. He really needed a shower now. The mixture of blood, dirt and rabid-badger dander made his skin itch. But he didn’t argue as she wrapped his arms in gauze. He endured the contact, hoping she wouldn’t notice how shaken up he was. When she cut the strip of gauze and tied it to his wrist, he saw that her hands weren’t steady, either.

  Maybe not so indifferent, after all.

  “I’ll put on a permanent bandage later,” she said.

  He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. Tough guys shrugged off flesh wounds. They spat out loose teeth and dragged broken legs behind them. Hoo-yah.

  Taking a deep breath, he channeled his navy training. SWCC didn’t show fear or weakness. They had nerves of steel and muscles to match. Just as he was regaining his composure, an angry roar echoed through the park. The sound sent a fresh chill down his spine. No rest for the wicked.

  “That’s Tau,” Helena said, listening.

  “He sounds mad.”

  “It could be the cage he’s upset about, but he usually doesn’t roar like that unless he’s protecting food.”

  “Do you think Zuma took the bait?”

  “Maybe.”

  “We should check it out while there’s still enough light.”

  She glanced at his mummy arms. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “Of course I’m up to it,” he said, feigning surprise. “What more do I have to do to prove to you that I’m a badass? I’ve taken nonstop abuse from wild females over the past few days. I’m still standing.”

  “You’re sitting.”

  “Yeah, but I do my best work lying down.”

  Her lips twitched with reluctant humor. He was growing on her. He’d like to grow on her some more. “I guess we could ride the Skylift.”

  “You want to ride the Skylift?”

  “It’s quicker and safer, especially at dusk.”

  He couldn’t argue that.

  She drove to the loading dock, checking for Bambang before they exited the vehicle. They brought the guns, just in case. He felt bruised and bitten, but no longer in danger of keeling over. He should probably eat a snack, however. There were two broken vending machines by the entrance to the Skylift.

  “You want something?” he asked her.

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  He grabbed two Snickers bars and soda. That should tide them over until dinner. Shoving the snacks in his shirt pocket, he hit the go button and helped her climb into one of the tram cars. Then he joined her, and they were off.

  The aerial tram was relaxing for him. It was slow. It didn’t climb to dizzying heights or sail through the air at top speeds. He popped open the soda and settled into his seat, watching Helena for signs of anxiety. Her mouth looked tense. Her dirty hands gripped the safety railing too tight. He couldn’t blame her for being scared, after this morning.

  He passed the soda to her. “Here. It can help with nausea.”

  “Caffeine?”

  “Sodium bicarbonate.”

  She accepted the offering and took a sip. “Thanks, Dr. Josh.”

  Several inappropriate ideas about playing doctor sprang to mind, so he considered himself fully recovered. He unwrapped one of the candy bars and bit into it with relish. She watched him, moistening her lips.

  “I brought you one,” he said.

  “I’ll eat it after the ride.”

  He offered her his chocolate bar. She surprised him by leaning forward to take a bite. Of course, it looked sexual. But he also enjoyed the sharing aspect, and the fact that she felt comfortable enough to let him feed her. They finished the candy bar and the soda before they arrived at Heart of Africa.

  She had a better view of the ground from her side. He didn’t want to scare her by tipping the tram car, so he stayed still while she examined the area.

  “The meat’s gone,” she said, excited. “She took it!”

  He was able to get a glimpse of the area as they passed by. There was a drag mark near Tau’s cage, and the bait itself was gone. Instead of celebrating, he kept his eyes peeled for Zuma. Unfortunately, he didn’t catch sight of the lioness, and it was getting dark. “Will the drugs wear off by morning?”

  “No. They’re the long-acting kind. She’ll be drowsy, if not completely out, for at least twenty-four hours.”

  He held up his palm, impressed by her foresight. She slapped him a high-five. This was damned good news. Tau was caged. Zuma was drugged, presumably. They’d fixed the fence and freed a badger. Wild hyenas might be terrorizing the city streets, but that was beyond their scope. For now, the zoo seemed calm.

  It was the best they could hope for.

  Josh was looking forward to rinsing off the blood and sweat. He could let Helena nurse his wounds. Then he’d cook her dinner. Maybe if he played his cards right, she’d reconsider hooking up with him. He’d promised not to touch her—unless she wanted him to. So the option was still on the table, as far as he was concerned.

  He studied her as they rode back to the dock, contemplating what she’d said about men trying to make her feel small. He couldn’t blame her for suspecting him of doing that. He’d ignored her discomfort and continued ribbing her over the years. Now that he knew about her father’s death, and the kids who’d teased her for being somber, and the asshole who’d tried to put his hands on her, he regretted his actions.

  The story about the old creeper at the stables infuriated him. Josh was aware that women were the victim of harassment and attacks too often. But Helena was so tough that he couldn’t imagine anyone messing with her. She looked like she chewed nails for breakfast. It had never occurred to him that her size and strength might make her a more likely target. There were men who couldn’t stand being on a level playing field with women.

  Weak men, in his opinion.

  Josh hadn’t meant to belittle Helena with his jokes. He wasn’t trying to take her down a peg. He wanted her underneath him, yeah, but not in a passive-aggressive, grudge-fuck way. His caveman instincts weren’t about putting her in her place.

  Were they?

  He didn’t think so. Some guys had pent-up anger or trust issues. Josh wasn’t one of them. He loved his mother and sister. He hadn’t been betrayed by any ex-girlfriends. He’d never slept around out of spite.

  On the other hand, if sleeping around was so great, why had he stopped? He hadn’t been waiting for Helena to drop her boyfriend. Even if his desire for her had been a factor, on a subconscious level, he had other reasons. He wasn’t just bored; he’d changed. Chloe’s situation with Lyle was part of it. Josh hated Lyle for hurting Chloe, and her experience had caused him to reevaluate his own actions toward women.

  Josh had avoided commitment for a reason. He’d made the choice to have one-night stands and short flings; they hadn’t just fallen into his lap. After fulfilling his navy service, he’d wanted to have fun and live it up. He’d relished the freedom of doing his own thing, surfing when the mood struck, chilling out when it didn’t. Working hard but not breaking his back. Low stress and low stakes. N
o serious relationships, no dependents. No one expecting him to be a military hero.

  He wasn’t sure he liked what he saw when he looked at himself from this perspective. Maybe Helena was right, and he was just a goofball jackass who got lucky by making women laugh.

  Well, fine. If that’s what he was, he’d embrace it. He hadn’t heard any complaints when she’d put her hand on his dick. Her sharp intake of breath was pure compliment. He’d enjoyed it. So why was he scowling?

  As soon as they reached the loading dock, he jumped out and hit the switch. It was all clear, so they headed to the truck. She gave a concerned glance as she climbed behind the wheel. “I didn’t think to bring any pain pills.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “It’s no trouble to go back.”

  “You can dart me after the shower.”

  She smiled at this, no longer so guarded with her expressions. “I should give you an antibiotic injection, actually.”

  “Will I turn into a flying monkey?”

  “Only if we do it after midnight.”

  He couldn’t resist smiling back at her. Helena’s dry, quirky sense of humor was like a cherry on top of her other good qualities. He enjoyed bantering with her almost as much as he enjoyed kissing her.

  The greenhouse was on the other side of the loading dock, past the butterfly exhibit and garden trail, at the edge of the Lost Jungle. It was the area of the park where they did educational activities and hosted the bird show. There were a number of displays about recycling and alternative energy sources. The state-of-the-art greenhouse wasn’t open to the public, and it wasn’t just a showcase. A lot of the zoo’s produce was grown right here. As an environmental science major, Josh was proud of that.

  It was dark, so he brought a flashlight from the truck, along with the rifle. There was a rain cache system and a storage tank outside the greenhouse. Inside, there were drip lines hanging from the ceiling and an industrial-sized sink in the corner.

  He did a quick inspection of the interior. The roof and side panels were made of polycarbonate, not glass. Although the building had sustained damage, it didn’t appear unsafe. There were no doped-up wildcats or feral honey badgers lurking in the shadows.