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The right side of the space is dominated by a pair of twin beds, which I’m guessing are generally pushed together but now have been awkwardly separated to accommodate the two new residents. I set down the pile of fresh bedding on the closest mattress, but then I am immediately distracted by a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. I spy well-thumbed paperbacks with sci-fi-looking covers. Glossy hardcovers cataloging everything from fish life to seashells to flora and fauna. Travel guides from an assortment of countries. Places Vaughn has gone, wants to go?
And framed photos. Vaughn, with his arm around a beautiful dark-haired woman, in sweat-stained safari clothing. Vaughn with a group of six, laughing in the middle of an undulating red desert. Vaughn and the same woman again, except now he’s all cleaned up in a white dress shirt, unbuttoned to expose the bronze column of his throat, while she’s in a black graduation gown. Girlfriend? Sister? I’m desperate to know. Workday Vaughn is ridiculously sexy enough. Well-groomed Vaughn with his lean cheeks freshly shaved and vivid blue eyes practically popping out of his head…
I force myself to walk away.
There’s a small dresser near the table. The top is covered with random piles of paperwork and a reading lamp. Of course he brings his work home at night. I give a cursory glance, but even by my standards it feels invasive to sort through the stacks or tug open drawers. A pity, because I’m itching to learn more.
I drag my attention back to the beds, engaging in various acts of gymnastics to wrestle on fresh sheets in such a limited space. By the time I smooth out the seashell-embroidered quilts topping each bed, I’m all hot and bothered.
I blow clinging strands of hair away from my sweaty face, roll up the dirty sheets, and trudge out into the blistering sun. Crabs scatter at the base of the stairs, while small fish go shooting through the clear water at the edge of the point. I eye the ocean longingly, then turn around and march back to the bathhouse.
And I spot Charlie sitting in front of a neighboring cabin. I don’t even think about it. Sharp turn right and I’m standing in front of him, laundry still in hand. He’s settled into his front rocker, nursing a steaming mug of something fragrant. He appears freshly showered, his wild salt-and-pepper hair briefly subdued in damp curls around his face, while a clean strip of bandages wraps around the top of his head, holding a giant square of gauze in place. He watches my approach with the eye that isn’t swollen half shut.
“How do you feel?” I ask at last.
“Skull’s a bit hammery,” he allows, “but nothing that can’t be fixed by a proper cup o’ tea.”
“Jasmine?” I finally deduce the flowery scent.
“Yessiree, Bob.”
I take it he’s back to Aussie speak this morning, or some variation thereof. I lean against the railing, settling the dirty sheets more comfortably in my arms. Then I regard him for a bit.
Charlie raises his mug, takes another sip. I stare at him. He stares at me. Even injured, the man refuses to blink.
“You’re going to make me ask?” I break first.
“Whatever would you need me to be telling you, luv?”
“Why were you out there last night? Disturbing a grave in the middle of a tropical storm?”
“Wasn’t disturbing no grave. Just out for a frolic. No better way to feel alive, man versus Mother Nature. ’Course, Mother Nature’s a right bitch.” He grimaces, gingerly fingers the patch of gauze.
“Liar.”
Charlie’s gray eyes widen at the direct accusation. He takes another sip of tea.
“If you were out just to have fun, you would’ve taken a radio.”
“Forgot.”
“You’re not that stupid. Not a man with your experience. What, you thought the penguins were going to save you?”
He finally cracks a smile. For all his bravado, he looks like hell. He may be doing his best to play his usual devil-may-care self, but he isn’t feeling it. Something’s going on with him, and it’s serious enough to keep him from leaving a remote island in order to seek proper medical attention. Which even he would agree is a very dangerous decision.
I go with a different approach.
“MacManus is scheduled to arrive this afternoon.”
“Right-o. Heard the same from the boss man.”
“Running late, though. They forgot his kale.” I whisper the second part in a scandalized tone.
Charlie snorts. Then, proving once again he’s a hard man to fool, he lowers his mug to his knee, stares me straight in the eye, and states: “I’m not returning to Honolulu on that plane, boss man’s orders or not. So if Vaughn sent you to work your feminine wiles, you can sod off now and save yourself the trouble. I’m staying. You can’t have a team stationed on this remote outpost without a proper engineer. Even one with a touch of the loopies is better than none at all.”
“You’re serious.”
“Deadly so. Which is what I’ve told Vaughn three times already this morning. Not going, no way, no how. Skull’s already mending. By tomorrow, right as rain.” He nods firmly. We both pretend the motion doesn’t cause him to wince.
