by Giulia Skye
Oh. That. Evie’s failure to make a baby.
There was an extended pause, two wincing seconds at the most, the length of time it took Mum to play out the one sentence that had been plaguing Evie ever since she’d received Zac’s email. The fertility problem lay with you then …
“So, who’s Adam?”
Evie was grateful for the change of subject. “That guy I’m hiring to drive me through the Kimberleys.”
The one who had thought about kissing her but who’d decided against it.
She still couldn’t believe the other night, nor how she’d managed to act like such things happened to her all the time when in reality, they didn’t. She’d been with Zac since she turned seventeen and had been so happy and content that she’d never been tempted to look elsewhere.
“Is this Adam just a guy you met?” Her mother’s voice was laced with concern. “I thought he was part of a tour company.”
“No, he’s … independent,” Evie said, cringing a little at the half-truth. So when she’d first emailed Mum to tell her the new plan, she may have made it sound like Adam was more than just a guy to whom she was handing over her money. She hadn’t wanted her mother to worry and definitely hadn’t wanted her to think that her daughter was the type of idiot who’d get into a car and drive off into the desert with a stranger.
But she couldn’t lie. She began telling her mother that she’d met Adam at the campground in Broome, obviously leaving out the details of how. Evie and her mother were good friends, but they rarely talked about anything salacious or—heaven forbid—girlie. Mum was a loving woman, but she had little time for men and what she called their limited uses. She didn’t do matters of the heart, often having bigger fish to fry. “And then Adam had to swerve to miss a kangaroo and punctured the tire on a rock or something, and we needed to wait for someone to come by to help us change it.”
“You needed help to change a tire?”
Mum had taught Evie basic mechanics when Evie had passed her test at eighteen, but Zac had changed the only flat tire she’d ever had in her entire driving life. Mechanics were his thing, not Evie’s. Traditional male-female roles that would send her mother spiraling into one of her women-can-do-anything-men-can-do speeches. Again, entirely true, but … so bloody what? If there was a man around to do such things and he wanted to do them, why not let him?
“This wasn’t like changing a tire on a Nissan Micra, Mum. Adam’s truck is so high my nose is level with the door handles.” But she braced herself for what she was about to say next. “It was just that Adam hadn’t noticed that the guy he’d got the truck from … well, he’d taken out the jack.”
“What type of idiot doesn’t check things like that?”
It was a fair enough question but, blimey, her mother could be judgmental sometimes. “He’s not an idiot but if it’s any consolation, he felt like one and wasn’t afraid to admit it.” And before Mum could start on her men-never-think-ahead speech, Evie told her about meeting Webbo and Daisy.
The distraction tactic didn’t work.
“You’ve known this boy for less than a week. Are you sure you can trust him?”
Evie twisted in her chair and glanced out of the café’s tinted window. Even though she was fifty-eight herself, Bernadette called all men under the age of fifty boys, but this wasn’t the time for Evie to point out how she knew Adam was all, one hundred percent, fully matured man.
“Of course I can trust him. What’s not to trust?” She recalled his exasperation the other night when he’d rugby-tackled her to the ground to stop her from losing herself in the bush. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life! His indignation had cut through her fear, and he’d been kind and patient, listening to her cry over Zac. “He’s nice, Mum. He’s just a normal guy.”
“But can you trust him to drive you safely?”
Ah. The leap of faith bit. Evie shifted in her seat again. Adam had told her he had no problem handling the truck, but she had to admit she was heading into the unknown with this one. She only had Adam’s word that he was capable, and to realize this was both exciting and dreadful at the same time.
Would she put so much faith in him if he weren’t so nice to look at? She’d asked herself more than once how much her little crush on him had to do with wanting him as a travel buddy. On paper, her plan to travel with a man she’d known only a few days was crazy. Totally nuts. But in his company? It felt … natural. She liked him and not just the way he looked. She liked his calm, quiet manner and the way she made him smile, like there wasn’t much, other than her, that would.
“It’s the perfect arrangement, Mum. He’s got a four-wheel drive and no money. I’ve got money but no four-wheel drive. We’ve both done a load of research on what to expect in the Kimberleys. And Adam spent most of yesterday practicing his off-roading.”
Or so he’d said. She’d hardly seen him yesterday as she’d spent most of the day with the Glaswegians on a boat tour of King Sound. Adam had returned at sundown with the truck caked in red earth, briefly talking about tires and gears before telling her he was spending the evening in the internet café again.
“Off to do my homework,” he’d said, but she’d fallen asleep on the back seat and had only seen him briefly at dawn when he’d set off for a run. She wouldn’t know how his homework had gone until they were on a supremely remote and vastly corrugated track. By which point it would be too late to have any doubts as to whether or not he could handle the truck.
She heard the echo of his disclaimer. “I’m confident driving off-road but I’m an outback amateur.” Surely, a man who freely admitted his weaknesses was telling the truth about his strengths?
Evie rubbed her goosebumped arms again, dimly wondering if condensation would form on her skin the moment she’d step outside. She took a deep breath. If nothing else, Mum had taught her to be positive.
“The Kimberleys aren’t as inaccessible as people think,” she said, trusting in what the gray nomads had told her, along with the many guides she’d read on the area, and the advice given to her by the helpful staff in the visitors’ center. “And I’ve hired a satellite phone should anything happen to us.”
That seemed to please Mum, her edge of concern smoothing off as Evie continued to chat about what she’d learned about the Kimberleys and the places she planned to see. Her mum was never one to incite fear and anxiety in her daughter, and she was incapable of remaining negative for very long. It was one of the things Evie admired and loved most about her.
“So how much are you paying this Adam?”
“A hundred dollars a week.” That launched a deeply satisfying discussion about the financial and travel planning surrounding Evie’s homemade Kimberleys tour.
“And just think, this time last week you wanted to come home. I’m so proud of you for sticking it out.”
Evie was proud of herself too. She’d succeeded in ignoring the cloud of doubt that constantly hung over her head, the one that made her wish she felt as confident as she sometimes looked or acted. She glanced at her wristwatch. “I suppose I’d best get going, Mum.” She’d arranged to meet Adam at the corner of the street in a few minutes’ time. “I’ll message you whenever I get signal but it might not be for a couple of weeks.”
“You be careful, baby.”
“I will.”
Evie said goodbye to her mother with the usual lump forming in her throat. She disconnected the call before her voice cracked, letting out a big old sigh as she waited for that waft of homesickness to hit. It wasn’t until she’d paid for her internet time that she realized it hadn’t. There was just a mild poke in the ribs, more a nudge really, and by the time she’d stepped out onto the street, it had been replaced with the same nerves and excitement she’d felt when leaving Broome. Only better.
This time, she was in control.
Adam had ten minutes before he was due to meet Evie. Ten minute
s before it would be just him and her in the middle of nowhere.
Adam checked the cheap wristwatch he’d bought yesterday during a quick shopping spree, buying more clothes and much-needed underpants. He should be getting in the truck now, blasting the air conditioning to cool it down. It was almost time to go, but first there was something he needed to do. Something that he’d wanted to leave to the very last minute. Just in case.
He glanced around the campground. It was quiet, virtually empty. The Scottish ex-pats had moved on at dawn—he’d raised a hand in goodbye as he’d set off for his run—and there were still no signs of life from the Aussie guys with the roof tent.
Adam walked the twenty meters from his truck to the shower block and placed the plastic carrier bag he used to contain his toiletries on the shelf by the sink. He broke the small pair of shiny silver scissors out of their packaging along with a new razor. He was desperate to get this damn hair off his face.
His skin itched raw underneath, and he knew it would only get worse out in the dry, dusty outback where washing facilities weren’t guaranteed. Not only that, but yesterday, when he’d tweaked tire pressures and checked the truck’s oil, he’d gotten grease in his beard which had been hell to get out. Adam could still feel the matted clumps now, a reminder that a beard needed a certain level of maintenance, unless he wanted to look like a rough mountain man. Which he certainly didn’t.
The only reason he’d started to grow the damn thing in the first place was to piss Saskia off during his hellish last week in Vancouver. She’d said it made him look dirty, so of course, he’d refused to shave. The stubble back then had been a big screw you, telling her exactly what he’d thought of her opinion, and the beard had come in useful as a disguise after his impromptu break for freedom. But, it hadn’t always proven to be a hundred percent guaranteed as Burly Man in Broome had had no trouble recognizing him. If the Kimberleys were as deserted this time of year as he was led to believe, he figured he’d be okay getting his face back to normal for a couple of weeks. Back to being comfortable again. And he’d take any comfort he could get in this heat.
Adam snipped at his beard, gathering up the fallen hair in intervals and discarding it in the waste bin by his feet, trying not to remember how Evie’s fingertips had felt on his lips.
After not kissing her, he thought they could both do with some space. He’d done a good job of keeping his distance from her yesterday, though the task had been made easier knowing they’d be spending the next month together. If they lasted that long—and he hoped they did. Damn if it wasn’t the strangest thing to realize he was now actually looking forward to this trip; he hadn’t been excited about anything in such a long while.
He snipped some more, and once Adam was sure he’d be able to get the razor through what was left on his face, he slathered on the shaving foam. He reveled in the ssshhhhh of each razor swipe, banging out the plastic handle against the sink, rinsing off the blade, then ssshhhhh ssshhhhhing some more. Up his neck, down his cheeks, along his jaw. Each swipe making him feel more like himself.
After rinsing out the sink, he poured a clean basinful and bent over, splashing water over his smooth cheeks. Adam fumbled for his towel, dabbed his skin dry, and, ready to see his old face again for the first time in weeks, peered into the mirror.
Then looked past his reflection to the person standing behind him.
Skinny Pete stared at him, his mouth gaping wide like he’d just seen a ghost.
Or a runaway celebrity worth fifty thousand bucks.
“Holy fuck,” Pete said.
Yeah. Adam grabbed his stuff. It was time to go, all right.
CHAPTER 16
Four minutes later, Adam revved the truck at the curb, watching Evie buy fruit from an outdoor fruit-and-veg stand a few doors down from the internet place. She hadn’t yet spotted him, and it took all his patience not to yell out her name. He checked his mirrors again.
No sign of Skinny Pete, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t right now running up the road with his phone or camera in hand, his friends following close behind in that Jeep of theirs. How long did it take to pack away a roof tent, anyway? Five, ten minutes? Adam hoped to be gone and on the highway in less than one.
If only Evie would hurry the hell up.
She was taking her change now from the fruit seller but was still deep in conversation. What the hell was there to talk about when buying pineapples and oranges? He revved the truck again, an impatient roar that finally made her look his way. She raised a hand to a wave, looked behind her to say goodbye, then ran toward the truck, the carrier bags of produce knocking against her leg.
“So that’s what you look like!”
Her smile was wide-open, totally unguarded. He stalled the engine. “I had a shave,” he said like a dunce, fumbling for the keys in the ignition. “Let’s go.”
After placing her fruit bags in the footwell, Evie climbed in, but while she’d been shuffling for foot space and putting on her seatbelt, a delivery truck had pulled alongside and was now partially blocking their way as it reversed into a loading bay.
Adam’s foot tapped the accelerator, and he knew then he’d made a mistake running away. He should have dealt with Pete at the campground, and now he was going to be found out in front of Evie—and he didn’t want that.
He wanted a vacation.
He wanted to lose himself in the Kimberleys.
He wanted to be Adam.
Then, two things happened at once. The delivery truck moved over and Evie waved at someone out of the window—someone who was running toward them.
“There’s Pete from the campground,” he heard her say as he threw the truck in reverse. “What on earth is he doing?”
Adam kept his eyes trained forward as Evie twisted in her seat. “He took a photo of us.” She laughed as if she couldn’t quite believe the randomness. “Why would he do that?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” In his mirrors, he saw Skinny Pete getting smaller and smaller. “Perhaps he’s still got the hots for you.”
“No way.”
“Well, it wasn’t my ass he was staring at the other night.”
Adam turned right toward the highway, struck by something else from that party. Had Evie told Skinny Pete about their travel plans? They were due to spend tonight at Windjana Gorge—the first stop for most people traveling this well-known route, one that Pete and his brothers had just completed, and it was only a leisurely two-hour drive away from Derby. Adam checked his mirrors again, slowing for the T-intersection ahead. There were no other vehicles behind them, no Jeep following them out of town, but Adam knew he only had a matter of minutes.
“Evie,” he began, leaving the truck idling. “How would you feel about delaying the start of your itinerary for a day?”
“How come?”
“I found this awesome place yesterday. I’d like to show it to you.”
“Really?” She nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of adventure. “Where is it?”
“About an hour that way.” He pointed in the direction opposite to the Gibb River Road. “And before you ask, there’s a campground nearby. I saw the signs for it.” Evie shot him a look. “Hey, I’m not a total idiot, I can make plans too. So, what do you say? If you don’t like it, we can still go to Windjana later but I think you’d love it.”
Or rather he’d make her love it. Because like hell was he going to camp at Windjana tonight. Not when that little punk was bound to turn up and blow his cover.
For the second time in two days, Evie held her breath as Adam lifted her down from a rocky ledge.
“Pretty amazing, eh?”
Evie looked beyond his broad chest, trying not to notice how the strong ocean breeze, that coursed over the mudflats, pressed his T-shirt against well-defined pecs. She took in the sandy inlet before them. The colors were breathtaking, dee
p reds and varying shades of yellow and green brought to life under a brilliant and relentless sun.
As they’d driven here, she’d followed their journey on her map as much as she could and knew they weren’t far from the mouth of the Fitzroy River, feeding into King Sound.
“So this is where you came yesterday to practice your off-roading?” she said. “How did you find this lookout?”
“I followed the dirt track from the highway, then kinda stumbled across it.”
She studied his profile. Without the beard, he looked more angular now. There were patches of irritation along his jaw and neck where his beard must have itched, and she wondered what had possessed him to grow it in the first place. He had a nice face. He wasn’t boy-band pretty, but still, he looked pretty good to her. And he reminded her of someone … someone she’d seen in a film or on the telly.
“You’re right,” she said, still insanely flattered that he’d seen something amazing and had wanted to share it with her. “I do love it.”
She shouldn’t read too much into him bringing her here, but this silly crush she had on him was making it difficult to remain neutral to anything Adam said or did, no matter how many times she warned herself to be careful. Evie glanced across at him as a stupid little flutter somewhere below her navel worked its way up to blush around her neck, and the question she’d been driving herself nuts with for the past two days swelled to the tip of her tongue.
Why didn’t you kiss me?
But he was staring intently at the patterns the tidal waters had created in the mud flats, deep in thought. There was something going on in there. Something private. Something that wore heavy on his shoulders.
“It was just a shave,” he said without taking his eyes off the water. He sighed. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
“I like the look of you.” She wanted to rib him some more, bring a smile back to his serious face. “Without the beard, you remind me of someone.”
“Who?” His dark-green eyes fixed sharply on hers and his brow creased in anticipation. “Who do I remind you of?”