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Then, I jumped off that gondola.
As I’ve done every time I’ve bungeed, I focused on one thing I want more than anything else as I stood at the ledge. The thing that I’m going to never take for granted again if I survive. Because, no matter what I said to Regan, I know that anything could happen. Not just here, but anywhere. I’ve seen babies go from looking perfectly healthy to being dead in minutes. I don’t take anything for granted.
The first time I bungeed I thought of my brothers. I’d been slacking on calling them regularly and vowed to remedy that. The second time, it was my fellowship.
Today, I expected my thoughts to be focused on the job I’m waiting to get a confirmed start date for. This wasn’t just the culmination of years of sacrifice and hard work. This job, and the prestige attached to it, will also go a long way to proving myself worthy of my stepfather's priceless gift – the last name he gave us when he adopted Dare, Beau, and me. He also left us each a small fortune in annuitized trusts and college tuition funds.
I’ve only touched that money to pay for school and to put a roof over my head. But until I could be a credit to his name, I lived on what I earned. This job is my chance to make him proud and to show that we were worthy of his gift. That I’m nothing like my mother.
But as I stood at the open door, poised to jump, all I could think about was her. I plummeted down thinking that if I didn’t get to hold her hand all day again, kiss her in an alley again, bury myself inside her again, that I might as well die now.
I rode back up to the gondola, exhilarated by the knowledge I had her all to myself for the next few days. And when they pulled me back inside, I pounced; kissing her until we both couldn’t breathe. Any reservations she’d had before we came seemed to be gone. She kissed me as ardently as I kissed her. On the two-hour drive to Balandra, she spread her thighs so I could finger her while I drove. I leaned back when she lowered her head to my lap to suck me off. We held hands like our lives depended on it.
But, by the time we were walking down the pier to catch the boat that would take us from La Paz to the Island Isla Espiritu Santo, reality started dropping reminders.
We were halfway to the boat when we heard a woman’s panicked voice calling out “Regan!” over and over from the dock. She dropped my hand like it was on fire. And we turned toward the shout. It was coming from a woman standing by the food stalls on the dock. Regan watched her, eyes wide with fear, until a little girl broke through the throng of people and ran into her anxious mother’s arms.
We laughed in relief, but we didn’t hold hands while we walked the rest of the way. She sat on my lap for the short ride over. With the wind whipping our faces as we flew through the water, and her warm body burrowing into mine, I started to relax and think about all the ways I’d have her tonight.
Then our boat captain started singing a song I’d never heard before, and she said, “That’s Marcel’s favorite song.”
That brought reality back into focus in a way that I didn’t like.
A lot has changed in the time since we last saw each other. But one thing is as true as it was when I was ten - no matter how much I want her; Regan Wilde isn’t mine to have.
By the time we got to our tent, all I could think about was the way she’d looked on her knees the night I stabbed that asshole.
It’s not that I don’t know if she wants me. She’s been giving me come-hither looks all night. But I think she’s still buzzing on the adrenaline from her jump and those looks aren’t enough to convince me that she wants me as much as I want her. It’s self-preservation more than pride. It’s going to make me crazy if I walk away from this wondering if she wasn’t just rolling with it. I don’t just need her to say it. I need her to initiate it.
“Excuse me, sir,” A soft hand lands on my bare shoulder. I turn and look up into the smiling, but anxious face of a young woman. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but my sister and I are having some trouble with our tent flaps.” She trails off, biting her lip and watching me with expectant eyes
“Okay, did you ask the Jorgens for help?” I ask in as patient of a voice as I can manage when she doesn’t say anything else. The camp is staffed with a husband and wife team who are supposed to be available twenty-four seven.
“We can’t find them. And... you’re the only other person not dancing,” she grimaces in apology. I glance around and give a groan of self-loathing when I realize she’s right.
“You look so upset, I hated to bother you—” she begins again. I stand up, shake off my self-pity and smile in apology.
“You’re not bothering me and I’m happy to help.” I stand, relieved to have a reason to end my self-flagellation. “Give me a second,” I say and jog out to where Regan is holding court on the dance floor.
I tap one of her shimmying shoulders and she turns around, a wide grin already on her face. Delighted surprise brightens her eyes when she sees me, and she flings her arms around my neck. “You came,?
?? she croons. Her soft body is warm and slightly damp from sweat.
“This is so much fun, I’ve made all these new friends and I’m so happy.” She squeals and tries to draw me into a dance. If I hadn’t been beside her at dinner, I’d swear she was drunk.
I pull her hands loose and hate myself a little when her smile dims. I glance back in the direction I came from. The young woman’s watching us with a fretful expression. I hold up a finger to signal that I’d be right there.
“Who’s that?” Regan’s voice has lost all of its glee and her eyes are narrowed in suspicion and trained over my shoulder.
“I don’t know her name. She needs help with her tent.”
One of her dark arched brows lifts in question and she turns her gaze back to me. “Isn’t that what that couple’s for?” She crosses her arms and taps her foot.
“She can’t find them. I’m going to help.”
“Well, that’s nice of you I’ll see you back at the tent, then?”
I frown at the tight smile she gives me. “It won’t take that long. I’ll be back.”
