When Adam Met Evie

by Giulia Skye

  He passed a group of backpackers sitting on a wall, German, maybe Dutch, drinking cola and laughing at something one of them had just said. Shane’s advice to hang out with other travelers came to mind again. Adam knew he was right. He was tall and built, and he knew he’d best always keep a shirt on if that English girl’s reaction to seeing his bare chest was anything to go by. He didn’t want to be stared at like that again. He had to blend in more, travel in a group, or at the very least with one other person. It was also the safest thing to do. What if he got hurt or something happened to the truck? This was a remote and harsh part of the world, and he was traveling off-season.

  But the only other person he knew here was that very English girl—Princess Flo of the freakishly big brown eyes.

  The tiny woman at the campground had told him she was the one looking for adventures along the Gibb River Road, but he’d packed up and left without pursuing it further. If he had to travel with someone, he’d prefer to travel with other guys. He’d had enough of women. He couldn’t relate to them anymore. He didn’t understand them, and he couldn’t be bothered to try—not even to get laid.

  He’d wondered if something was wrong with him in that department but couldn’t muster the energy to care. All he had to do was remind himself about his forced living arrangement with Saskia after their wedding jamboree—how that had made his life pure hell for the past five months and how the one time she’d tried to seduce him had been such a disaster that just the thought now of getting to know a woman enough to take her to bed felt too much like hard work. The flirting, the testing of the water, the sitting through drinks or—heaven forbid—an entire frickin’ meal talking. No thanks. He’d rather see to things himself.

  Adam reached the surplus store and pushed the glass door open. An awesome wall of ice-cold air greeted him, and he raised his arms a little to let the cool air circulate beneath. He could stay here all day, enjoying the respite from the relentless heat outside, but the sweat on his back had barely time to dry when a store assistant asked if he needed any help.

  “No. Thank you,” he replied, wishing people would just leave him the fuck alone.

  The young girl scurried away, and he walked over to the self-inflating mattresses hanging on display along the far wall. He quickly flicked through what was for sale and chose a chunky double mattress. He could already see himself spread out on it under the stars in blissful solitude. He found the rolled-up version wrapped in cellophane on the shelf below and took it to the counter. The young assistant was busy unpacking boxes in the corner, so he waited for the big burly man out the back to notice him waiting to pay.

  “Two secs, mate,” he called out. “Be right with you.”

  Something about the man’s double take made Adam brace himself. The shelves above the counter had already caught Adam’s attention. They were full of trophies and framed photos of sportsmen and sportswomen, from tennis to fishing, golf to soccer. Sporting nut, Adam thought, and with a sinking heart, he just knew this man wouldn’t be handing him a cardboard box to throw in the trash or slamming a door in his face, like Big Eyes had back at the campground.

  Adam reached into his pocket for his wallet. His bribery money—the thousand bucks he kept stashed in the truck—was now ridiculed by Saskia’s $50,000. He couldn’t compete with that amount out here on the road, not without following certain protocol with his accountants. Not without alerting his father and Howie. He could only hope news of the bounty hadn’t yet reached Broome. So far, people still thought Michael Adams was in Perth.

  “G’day. How’s it going?”

  Adam kept his smile even. “It’s going good, thanks. How much?”

  Burly Man scanned in the rolled-up mat and told him the price. Adam flicked through his wallet for the cash. He only used his cards these days to withdraw large amounts from ATMs.

  “Enjoying Broome?”

  “Yeah.” Adam kept his expression neutral and friendly. He searched the man’s face for those obvious signs of recognition, and when the man handed over the change and receipt, grinning like he’d just worked out a puzzle, Adam knew it was game over.

  “I like the peace and quiet,” Adam said, emphasizing the word quiet as he pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and stuffed them in the collection box on the counter, labeled Broome Disabled Riders.

  Burly Man guffawed like he’d just won some jackpot prize. “Thanks, mate. I knew it was you.” And so it began. “Michael Adams. Who would have thought?” Burly Man shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “I heard you were in Queensland.”

  And no doubt he’d heard the rest, too. Adam gave the man his best sheepish smile. “My vacation there was cut short.”

  “Those paps have it coming, mate. But we’re glad to have you here, even though some still might harbor a grudge about that gold you took from our Shane McDermit in China.”

  “McDermit should have got that one.” Adam conceded kindly despite groaning inside. A decade ago, he’d competed against Shane enough times to learn just how passionate the Aussies were about sport.

  “Only fractions of a second in it,” Burly Man continued. “I remember it well.”

  And Adam hoped the rest of Broome didn’t, though he had no time to dwell on it further. Burly Man was holding up a phone.

  “Mind if I take a snap for the shop?”

  Posing for a selfie would risk exposure but walking out would make him look a total prick. Adam forced a smile, his heart sinking deeper. “No problem.”

  Burly Man called to the young assistant, who approached looking warily at Adam. He flashed her one of his best smiles as if he’d just seen her for the first time and waited, with remarkable patience, for Burly Man to set the camera on his phone and hand it to her.

  “This is Michael Adams, an Olympic swimming legend,” Burly Man announced. Adam winced inside but managed to keep his smile in place. At least he hadn’t been called an ex. “Too bad you’re not an Aussie, mate.”

  Adam made his laugh sound affable and natural, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as humanly possible so he could get the hell away before anyone else entered the shop. He put his arm around the man like they were old friends and grinned into the phone, his heart sinking further and further, dripping to his feet as he kept one eye on the door.

  He didn’t want this simple shopping trip turning into a nightmare, like that day in Vancouver when he’d gone to the mall to buy new running shoes and ended up being pulled out by security from a mob of so-called fans. That day, he’d been escorted to the rooftop parking lot—and there, like some reminder he did not need—he’d come face-to-face with the cause of the frenzy: the Strive Sportswear campaign.

  The billboard on the building across from the mall had been plastered with the black-and-white image of his body, oiled and bronzed. He was naked but for the wet swim trunks shrink-wrapped over his skin, revealing a distinct hang to the left. Christ, he could even make out the ridge of his foreskin through the tight fabric if he looked close enough—and at thirty feet tall, a lot of people did.

  He was faceless in that particular photograph, but everyone knew it was him because of the woman lying next to him. Saskia. She’d draped a delicate, long-fingered hand over his abs and a long silky leg across his thighs, her limbs encasing him like a spider’s web.

  Adam’s heart beat fast at the memory of that mobbing now. He was having trouble keeping up with Burly Man’s questions and forming his replies, and the more he wondered if Burly Man noticed his growing discomfort, the more Adam wondered if this was what it was like to have an anxiety attack.

  Several minutes later, the heat outside hit him like a freight train. Adam escaped to the safety of his truck, fighting the urge to run. A man running in this heat would only bring attention, and it was more important now than ever before to keep a low profile.

  Turning a corner, he glimpsed the truck farther
down the street and tried to control his breathing. His heart began to steady the moment he opened the door. He chucked his new mattress on the back seat and jumped in behind the wheel.

  The truck was greenhouse hot, but Adam rested his head on the scorching steering wheel anyway, feeling pathetic as he waited for his breathing to return to normal. It was obvious—now that he’d stopped panicking and reliving the past—that Broome was nothing like Vancouver, but still, he knew one thing. The beard, sunglasses and cap no longer cut it as a disguise. He needed more.

  But how else could he hide his identity? He could try hair dye, but turning himself into a blond or redhead would only bring more attention. At least brown was neutral, innocuous.

  Just then, he raised his head off the steering wheel and saw her.

  Miss Bug Eyes.

  There she was, sitting alone in the café’s window seat sucking on a milkshake as she stared at a phone nestled in her palm, a stuffed purple backpack standing upright by her feet.

  Was this some kind of sign? Some funny fate thing going on?

  His fingers drummed the steering wheel.

  She wasn’t the travel buddy he had in mind, but perhaps a man and a woman traveling together would go more unnoticed than a man and another man? He had no idea really, but as he knew she was looking for a ride and he needed extra cover, he stepped out of the truck and crossed the street.

  You’ve no right sending me shitty emails.

  Evie blinked at Zac’s text message. She’d actually stopped breathing the first time she’d read it, and now, reading it for the fourth or fifth, she still couldn’t believe it. No right after fifteen years? She was angry—surely he could understand why?

  You lied to me. How do you expect me to feel?

  She sent her reply, regardless of the time in England—whatever it was. Well, he had a newborn, he was bound to be awake, and if he wasn’t? She didn’t give a shit.

  Seconds later, a message buzzed through. He was awake after all.

  I expect you to be happy for me.

  And then he sent a picture of the baby, as if seeing a baby that wasn’t hers would make it all better. Evie sucked on her ice-cold milkshake, hoping the brain freeze would hold back the teary breakdown that threatened. She’d look a complete lunatic sobbing alone in the café, and she wasn’t quite ready to lose it just yet, even though she felt like she was losing everything else.

  She swallowed back the pain, ignoring the image of Zac’s baby by reading the WhatsApp messages she received from her best friends, all expressing their shock at Zac’s news.

  No wonder we hadn’t seen him out for ages ... We’re here if you need us.

  But—sadly—they weren’t. Not physically. Evie couldn’t even call them because they were likely to be either at work or battling through the British rush hour to get there. Not even her mum was around because she’d gone on her music school retreat for the week. But wouldn’t hearing their voices only bring on the tears, anyway?

  Feeling totally alone, Evie looked up from her phone. She didn’t know anyone here in the café. She’d already said goodbye to Lorraine and returning to the Camel’s Back would only make her feel worse, like she’d failed. And besides, she didn’t have time to go there and back. Her night bus would arrive soon.

  There was only one thing to do. Evie had to just suck it up and carry on, just like her mother had raised her.

  Adam ordered a fruit juice packed with crushed ice and watched Miss Bug Eyes while he waited for his change.

  She was sitting on the edge of a leather sofa next to the floor-to-ceiling window. He’d first taken her for a college graduate, but she looked older now, her huge bush-baby eyes crinkling at the corners as she scowled at her phone. He pegged her at twenty-eight, thirty at a very hard push, just a few years younger than his thirty-three.

  The woman at the campground had told him her name was Evie, but the name was too feminine—too cute—for someone who looked like her, particularly when she frowned like she was doing now. She wasn’t ugly, not by a long stretch, just plain in a nothing-to-write-home-about kind of way.

  Certain that he’d shaken off the experience in the surplus store, he walked over to her.

  “Why the long face?” he said, dumping himself next to her on the sofa. “Did someone ignore another of your signs?”

  He’d made her jump, but her voice sounded just as haughty as it did yesterday. “Oh, it’s you.” She gave him a tight smile. “I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”

  Which was a load of crap, he knew. He’d seen the way she’d stared at him across the campground. “Yeah, about that. Pretty unfortunate incident, eh?” And because he didn’t want to offer her a lift and get out on the highway to realize she’d figured out who he was, he pushed for signs of recognition. “You could make a lot of money selling that story.”

  Her quick bark of laughter had him raising one eyebrow, and he heard her swallow back words sounding a lot like, In your dreams. Adam hid his smile.

  “I’m guessing you’re from England,” he said, enjoying the fact that she didn’t have a clue about him.

  “You guess right.” She cast those eyes over him. “And I’m guessing you’re from America. Whereabouts?”

  “Edmonton.”

  “Edmonton?” She frowned. “But isn’t that in Canada?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.”

  She turned back to her phone.

  Right. He’d never been the funniest guy in the room, but he’d hoped that attempt at humor was worthy of at least a half-smile. Instead her quick dismissal told him he’d just come across as an idiot. Not that it seemed to bother her much because just then her phone buzzed with an incoming message and he lost her.

  He drained his juice, crunched on an ice cube, and tapped the bottom of her grubby backpack with the toe of his running shoe, making the point that—hello?—he was sitting beside her.

  “You leaving Broome today? I heard you were looking for a ride to Darwin along the Gibb River Road.”

  Now, that got her attention.

  “Lorraine told you,” she said, her eyes wide.

  Lorraine? The campground woman. “Yeah, I didn’t think much more of it until I saw you here.” He nodded through the window toward his truck, took a deep breath and hoped his teeth weren’t grinding together. “I’m looking for a travel buddy to share costs and adventures.”

  Evie angled her head, hearing the words she’d written for her ad, as she laid eyes on the dusty truck across the street. It was a big beast of a four-wheel drive, with chunky tires and a snorkel exhaust fitted to the side of the cab, meaning true outback business.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her pulse quickening. “Did you say you were looking to car-share along the Gibb River Road?”

  “Yeah, I’m leaving for Derby now. Wanna ride?”

  Adrenaline pumped through her, like she should grab this opportunity or be forever stuck. She thought of Lorraine as a young woman several decades ago, jumping on a boat in Somalia moments before the military descended to close the port. Evie felt like taking that same leap, the last of Zac’s messages burning a hole in her hand and her heart.

  We didn’t tell you before because we didn’t want to ruin your travels.

  And there it was again. We. Zac and Teagan, not Zac and Evie as it had always been. We. Zac snuggling under the duvet next to Teagan, her full breasts nursing their newborn son. Just then that old dream of bumping through the outback in a trail of red dust, holding on to her seat, hair flying wild, flashed before her so bright and bold it already felt like a memory. The vision blew away the image of we that had lodged painfully in her mind like barbed wire.

  Wanna ride?

  Yes! Hell, yes, she did.

  CHAPTER 6

  Evie took a step back as they stood up from the sofa. She always tried to look ta
ll men in the eye but sometimes even she could admit it was a hopeless cause. “We should draw up a schedule and a budget,” she said, knocking awkwardly into the coffee table behind her.

  “Okay.”

  “And we should make a list of supplies that we’ll need,” she added, following him to the door. “We’ll need to make a list of how much it would all cost.”

  “Sure.”

  He held the door open for her and she stepped out onto the pavement, drenched in heat and sunshine. She turned to him. “We’ll split things down the middle of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve got a list of campgrounds from Derby to Kununurra,” she continued, squinting against the brightness while he slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “We’ll need to get camping permits and day passes for the national parks if you’ve not got them already, and—oh.” She finally noticed her enormous backpack slung casually over his shoulder. She rubbed her forehead. “You didn’t have to carry that.”

  “It’s no problem.” They crossed the street to the truck, where he offloaded her backpack onto the back seat. “Jump in.” He strode to the front looking, for the briefest of moments, like he’d drive off without her.

  She walked quickly to the passenger side and yanked the door open. The truck’s high clearance meant she had to pull herself up into her seat. It added to the excitement. This wasn’t a vehicle for commuting, shopping and errands—this was a machine for tearing along tracks and trails through unchartered land. She sat up straight, tapping out an eager tatt-a-tatt-tatt on her bare knees.