When Adam Met Evie

by Giulia Skye

  He made her want to grab her mascara and lipstick, put on those skinny jeans and heels she had stored in her mum’s loft so Adam could see her as a sexy woman. A woman he could—

  No.

  She was going to be spending an intense amount of time with him and she couldn’t become a slave to his good looks, getting embarrassed every time she did something his Barbie girlfriends would never do—like scramble awkwardly down an outcrop, wee in a bush, or use her clothes as a tissue.

  She had to be herself at all times, and it was time to be direct. “What was all that muscle flexing in the shower the other day?”

  “You kept staring at me.”

  “Could you blame me?”

  He released her, raising one questioning eyebrow.

  “Oh, come on, Adam,” she teased, already feeling a lot more in control of her crush now that she’d addressed the white elephant they’d both been ignoring. “You must be used to women staring at your body. Back home at your gym, you must have an endless string of female clients queuing for training of the personal kind. Cougars, gym bunnies. I bet you’ve got a whole female menagerie to pick from.”

  He flashed her a smile. “Like I said, it’s a tough life.”

  But she could tell she’d surprised him. “And it’ll get tougher yet.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’re going to be stuck with me.” She made a point of skimming her eyes over him. “You’re a very attractive man.” She looked up into his deep green eyes. “And of course, we both know I’m paying you because I’m only really interested in seeing one thing.”

  He swallowed. “And what’s that?”

  “The scenery.”

  She then slipped in front of him, taking the lead on the path back to the truck.

  CHAPTER 11

  The tiny dark shape on the horizon looked like a bug shimmering in the heat haze. Adam stood in the middle of the highway, his hands resting on his hips. “That’s not a big-assed truck with a big-assed jack, is it?”

  So far, the only vehicle to pass had been a motorcycle. The biker could only help by offering one of the them a lift back to Broome, which meant whoever went could have bought a jack then hitched a ride back. But Adam couldn’t have left Evie out here alone if he had been the one to go, and sending Evie off with the Lone Rider hadn’t been an option either.

  Evie came to stand next to him. “It’s too small for a truck,” she said. He’d been thinking the same thing. “It’s probably just another motorbike.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it’s taking its sweet time.” Adam glanced across at Evie who’d gone back to dangling her legs out of the truck. She was helping herself to the tin of pineapple chunks he’d found in his kitchen box, and if she was disappointed or anxious that nearly an hour had passed and they were still here, she didn’t show it. No fuss and no whining.

  No games, either, despite her mischief earlier. I’m only interested in seeing one thing. Fine by him. He was only interested in getting some peace and quiet, staying far away from crowds and cameras.

  “I am so desperate for a cup of tea.” Evie sighed dramatically. She speared a pineapple chunk with a plastic fork and eyed it up as if it were a roast chicken mirage. Okay, there had been some whining, but as his own stomach was cramping with hunger, he’d give her some leeway. “And I could really do with some bacon, eggs, toast, mushrooms and beans.”

  “I’d take that twice over. But I’d trade the tea for black coffee.”

  She stuffed the pineapple into her mouth and pushed it to one side. “I’m not sure I agree with your black coffee.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “It’s too bitter without milk. It’ll take the taste away from the food.”

  “I’ll be the one drinking so it won’t be your concern.”

  Adam looked ahead again. He had a futile hope that whatever was heading toward them would somehow come quicker the more he stared. He didn’t like this waiting around, not knowing what or who was going to stop by.

  “You need to get out of the sun,” Evie called out to him.

  “What I need is an ice-cold bath and to eat my body weight in pizza.”

  But he left his post in the middle of the highway anyway and flopped against the back seat, partially shaded by the truck’s roof. Come midday, if they were still here—and he sure hoped not—they’d have to go back among the trees or the outcrop to find shade.

  Evie hopped out of the truck and passed him the almost empty tin of pineapple before stepping out to the middle of the highway. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she stared at the shape coming toward them. Adam forked a couple of chunks into his mouth, his eyes wandering up and down the length of her.

  He’d lost count of the number of times his naked dream of Evie had come back to taunt him. You’re going to be stuck with me, she’d said, but that wasn’t a hardship as far as he was concerned. She was proving to be very easy company, and something about her kept his attention. Something about the way she looked at him that reminded him that once upon a time, women had been fun. That sex had been fun, too.

  Evie reminded him of his past girlfriends, the ones from a previous life, back when he was either concentrating on training and competitions, or involved in school fitness programs, rather than the sponsorship deals, the uninspiring TV show appearances, and those endless photo shoots. His girlfriends had been cool to hang out with, comfortable to sleep with. He’d never been like his father, who had a conveyor belt of perfumed women flowing in and out of his bedroom. Casual sex was his father’s lifestyle, but never Michael’s—he’d never even had a one-night stand.

  He popped the last of the pineapple chunks into his mouth—the sweet, juicy pieces doing nothing to ease his appetite—then continued to watch Evie over the rim of the tin as he drained the juice.

  I bet you’ve got a whole female menagerie to pick from.

  She had no idea.

  No idea that he was … what? What was he? Sexually challenged? Were they the words to describe someone who no longer cared for it?

  He recalled his wedding night, five months ago.

  Not getting it up for me tonight, baby?

  Go away, Saskia.

  Aw, sweetie-pie. Our first night as man and wife, though I reckon “man” may be stretching it a little too far, don’t you think?

  Go to hell.

  “It’s too slim for a car and too slow for a motorbike,” Evie was saying, pulling him out of his memory pit. He blinked and dragged himself back to the here and now. “Maybe it’s a pushbike.” Then came one of her theatrical gasps. “It’s a camel.”

  “Give it a rest, Evie.” Adam crushed the empty pineapple tin. “I’m not in the mood.”

  But she had started to whoop. “It’s him! That guy with the camel. Haven’t you heard about him?”

  Adam peered over the truck’s open door and saw that the black dot had now turned into a longer shape that was slowly separating in two, fragmented by the sunlight bouncing off the tarmac. Evie turned to him, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “This is ah-mazing.”

  Adam dropped back into the seat.

  A frickin’ camel?

  “He’s this guy, walking around Australia—just him and his camel. I read about him in Sydney months ago.” She ran over to her bag on the back seat behind him. “I need my camera.” She zipped and unzipped pockets, moved things aside and finally pulled it out. “Oh, my God, I can’t miss this.”

  “He’s still five minutes away,” Adam said, irritable from heat and hunger and his recent trip down memory hell. He glanced over at Evie who was frantically checking her camera’s battery life. “What’s the rush?”

  She stared at him like he was a simpleton. “If you come across him, you’ve got to walk with him. Aren’t you coming?”

  “No.”

  A
dam watched her take off, thinking big whopping deal. He hadn’t heard anything about this camel guy so wasn’t going to work up any excitement over him, and the chances were that any stories Evie had read about him were a load of engineered media bullshit, anyway. He knew firsthand how it worked, and he’d lost count of the amount of times he’d been misquoted or misrepresented, falling prey to eager hacks and sloppy journalists who replaced facts with fabrications. It wouldn’t surprise him if Camel Guy turned out to be some full-of-crap, exhibitionist bragger. Or a complete nutcase.

  With that in mind, he stood up and kept a watchful eye on Evie. He saw her join Camel Guy two hundred meters or so up the highway and could just about make out that she was taking a selfie. No, not a selfie—her arm had been extended for too long—she was taking a video. Awesome.

  What was he going to do now if she turned that camera on him next? He should have made that a fourth condition, but her weirdo radar, always eager to bleep, would have made it impossible for him to do so without her asking a billion questions why.

  Adam hung his head, the irony hitting him between the eyes. Even on a deserted highway—waiting for a camel no less—he was still needing to avoid cameras. Why couldn’t anything just be easy for a change?

  He sat back in the truck’s shade but when Evie and Camel Guy got nearer, his manners propelled him out of the seat to greet them.

  “Adam, this is Dave Webster,” Evie said. “But everyone knows him as Webbo.”

  Shaking the guy’s hand and exchanging pleasantries, Adam took in Webbo’s green legionnaire’s hat that flapped about his neck when the breeze picked up and his cheery round face—no older than his early forties. Webbo had the look of someone who had lived on a hot dirt road for weeks, as he held on to a pair of dark leather reins at the end of which stood the camel, its wide rubber-looking mouth moving like a teenager chewing gum.

  “Is this thing male or female?” Adam asked.

  “Female.” Webbo turned to the creature and patted her neck. “This is my lady, Daisy.”

  “Eighteen weeks on the road and they’ve done roughly one thousand, two hundred kilometers already,” Evie said. “Only two thousand, eight hundred to go.”

  “Four thousand kilometers?” Adam looked to Webbo. That was a worthy distance to brag about. The flag on the side of the camel’s hump caught Adam’s attention. Daisy’s Brain Tumor Trust: Target $250,000. Adam stroked Daisy’s flank, guilt and shame of his earlier cynicism clawing at him. “That is amazing. How much have you raised already?”

  “About half.”

  “Got a support team?” Adam thought back to the celebrity charity cycle race he’d once participated in along Icefields Parkway from Banff to Jasper. The road there had been lined with support vehicles, rest stops and paramedics, not to mention sports therapists ready to massage out tight knots.

  “It’s just my sister in Fremantle,” Webbo said. “She’s handling publicity, social media and donations. Everything else is up to me.”

  Evie waggled her camera. “Webbo’s asking anyone who spots him to take a video of him walking.”

  “Anything to get people involved.”

  “And what happens to the video?” Adam asked.

  “You can email it to us, and we’ll upload it onto the webpage. Or feel free to post it on your social media and spread the word by hashtagging the donations page. Sometimes it gets picked up by local papers, and they donate to use any footage and photos.”

  Adam stroked Daisy’s flank. $250,000. He and Saskia got paid twice that much for an hour’s work endorsing overpriced swimwear. “There must be times when you just want to quit.”

  “Yeah.” Webbo wiped the side of his face. “But failure’s not an option, ya know, mate.”

  Adam did know. Failure hadn’t been an option for him either when he’d been winning golds. But then came the tear to his rotator cuff and the bronze, and the thin line between failure and quitting while he was ahead had become blurred.

  Evie tapped Adam’s arm. “Is that someone else coming?”

  Adam turned his gaze away from the camel to look in the direction of Derby. The shape was getting thicker and blockier. No doubt about it this time, the incoming vehicle was sure to have a jack. “At last.”

  Evie turned to Webbo. “You’re just in time to see the completion of the longest tire change in history.”

  Adam sighed and muttered a surly, “Thanks.”

  He moved out to the middle of the road preparing himself for further ridicule. When the vehicle got nearer, he could make out that it was pulling a silver caravan and that not one, but two people sat next to the driver—which was just awesome. The more the merrier. Evie appeared at his side and placed a hand on the small of his back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. It was just a joke.” Her touch traveled through his body and did strange things to his stomach, just like it had done earlier on the outcrop. They really shouldn’t touch again, ever, but she was leaning into him, hot and soft, bringing the naked dream back to haunt him.

  “Don’t be a baby about it,” she whispered. “These things happen.”

  They stepped to the side as the incoming truck slowed, the driver already hanging out of the window and staring open-mouthed in Adam’s direction.

  “Well, I don’t bloody believe it!”

  The driver cranked the handbrake and Adam forced a smile. Great. The icing on the frickin’ cake. He’d deny everything, feign ignorance, but what if they insisted he looked so much like Michael Adams? What then? He’d have to own up to his true identity. He’d have to be charming and become Everyone’s Best Buddy. He’d have to do whatever it took to get back on the road with minimal fuss and exposure. He’d—

  “Webbo and Daisy! It is an honor.”

  Adam whipped around, he’d been so focused on the new arrivals that he hadn’t noticed Webbo and the camel move up behind him. He stepped to the side. Webbo came past, his right hand already extended to greet the driver and his passengers.

  Evie came to stand next to Adam, a big smile on her face. At least she was having the time of her life. “We weren’t expecting to meet a celebrity this morning, were we?”

  “No.” Adam wiped his brow, readjusted his cap. “We weren’t.”

  “Can you believe it?”

  Adam shook his head. Nope, he really couldn’t. When had he become such a self-absorbed asshole?

  With his mouth set in a flat line, he studied the driver and his passengers. They were all in their mid-sixties, all talking over each other in their elongated Australian twangs as they asked Webbo a million questions, petting the camel like a long-lost family member. Webbo chatted amiably back, answering all questions with enthusiasm and affability. The camel kept on chewing.

  “Don’t you think Daisy looks like she’s about to blow out a huge pink bubble any second?” Evie said, reading his thoughts again and giving him the impression that she was trying to cheer him up.

  Did he look that miserable? Probably. His spirits had dipped again, which was strange really, because he’d been okay last night camping out under the stars, and he’d felt relaxed on the outcrop this morning, too. Was he on that rollercoaster Evie mentioned? Always up and down, going backward and forward.

  As the perky Australians continued to chat, Evie filled Adam in on all she knew about Webbo, Daisy the Camel, and, Daisy, the little girl who had died of a brain tumor last year. Adam scratched the side of his face embarrassed at his earlier arrogance and somewhat appalled by his wealth.

  Evie lowered her voice. “Have you ever heard people talk about the gray nomads?”

  “Is that an Australian rock band?”

  “No, you twit.” She giggled. “It’s people of retirement age selling up their family homes to roam around Australia.”

  Adam looked across at the two men and the woman. They were
all gray-haired, all looked retired. The woman had a soft friendly face and an infectious laugh, looking like she’d raised several children and wore a flour-smudged apron when she baked cookies. But it was the men, standing side by side, who were the most striking simply because they had the same face. Evie had noticed it too.

  “Twins,” she said, still whispering. “Let’s go and make friends.”

  Adam didn’t want to make friends. He wanted to change the tire and get back on the road. But he followed her to the gathering anyway. Being unsociable would only bring him unwanted attention, and he didn’t want Evie’s loner gage picking up on his energy again.

  He watched Evie approach the group. He’d only ever seen her by herself, or with him, and was surprised with how quickly she jumped into the conversation. Adam had never mastered the art of idle chitchat with strangers but Evie conversed like a pro, asking questions and listening to the answers like she genuinely cared. Once the attention had moved on from Webbo and his adventures, Evie smoothly asked the gray nomads a dozen questions about where they’d been in the Kimberleys, then moved on to her own life with ease, telling the group that she and Adam were about to embark on their own outback adventure.

  “We were just waiting for someone to come by to help us change a tire,” she said, once she’d explained what had happened yesterday with the kangaroo. “Daisy here is gorgeous but she’s not carrying what we need.” She turned to the gray-haired couple. “I don’t suppose we could borrow your jack?”

  Everyone then turned to Adam, his paranoia ramping up several notches and he felt like he’d been caught naked again.

  “You got a spare, mate?” the driver asked.

  “I’ve got the spare,” Adam told him, wishing he didn’t look like such a complete novice in front of these outback men. They all looked toughened by a life out in the elements, and the twins in particular reminded Adam of steely blue-eyed cowboys who’d swapped Stetsons and chaps for cool linen shirts and khaki shorts. “And I can change it myself, but I don’t have a jack.”