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Needing to distract myself, I make my way over to a tree, count to three, and smash the coconut against the trunk. Examining it, I sigh when it didn’t even make a dent. Saint makes it look so easy. I try again, each strike helping me forget the way my body undulated under his touch.
“Here, give it to me.”
I jolt, startled as I didn’t hear him approach me. Gingerly, I pass it to him and step aside. His muscles bulge when he slams the coconut against the tree, the unmissable sound of it splitting into two following. I notice him flinch slightly as if he’s in pain, but he extends his hand, indicating he wants to use my knife.
I pass it to him without hesitation.
A small cut where I pressed the blade into his throat is red and a little puffy. I wonder if he should put some ointment on it so he doesn’t get an infection. I’ll suggest it after we eat.
He severs the coconut into two, using the knife to dig out the flesh. He passes me a piece, and I thankfully accept. When he places a portion into his mouth, a trickle of juice slides down his lip. He instantly laps at it with his tongue while I stop mid chew, transfixed by the sight.
Saint is aware of my gawking, but I can’t help it. I attempt to distract myself by looking elsewhere. But it’s no help as I take in the inked feathers running down his arms. And then the blood red roses on his chest. “I like your tattoos.”
He smiles. I wish he’d stop doing that because it just adds to the appeal. “You don’t have any?”
I shake my head.
He has seen me naked to know that I don’t, but I guess we both need this small talk. The fact he’s seen me naked has my cheeks heating yet again.
He offers me the remaining flesh of the coconut. I accept as it’ll give me something to stuff my mouth with other than gibberish.
We sit by the fire, eating our fish in silence. There is an unspoken current between us because it seems neither of us knows what to say. I want to ask him about last night, but ask him what exactly? He got me off, is that all it was?
My appetite is suddenly shot because I want it to have meant something to him. It meant something to me. “I’m going to check out some plants I found early this morning,” he says, hinting there will be no morning-after talk. “There has to be something on this island we can use.”
So far, Saint and I have both searched for anything green to eat with little success. I tested his theory, and he was right. Everything I pressed to my wrist or lips tingled or gave me a rash, so I knew consuming them wasn’t an option.
I’m getting sick of fish and coconuts, so the prospect of finding something else to eat has me offering to help. “After I bathe, I’ll come with you. The water is becoming stagnate so the rain will be welcomed,” I say. “Maybe we can find something to collect the rainwater in?”
He finishes chewing and nods. “Good idea.”
We’re being awfully polite with one another, but the tension lingers. I can’t stand it any longer. “Saint, about—” But I never get to finish.
He stands up quickly, grabbing his spear. “I’ll meet you near the cave.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to get a word in edgewise as he disappears through the trees, leaving me and Harriet Pot Pie alone.
I understand this is awkward, but I need to acknowledge it happened. It appears, however, that Saint doesn’t feel the same.
The dismal afternoon corroborates Saint’s prediction. A storm is coming. The temperature has dropped and turned quite cold.
Saint fishes and transports our things to the cave while I hunt for food. So far, I’ve found nothing that looks edible. This is really Saint’s forte as he’s proven to be quite the outdoorsman with his knowledge, but the fact he doesn’t want to get within a hundred feet of me has me rummaging on my own.
I don’t know how I feel. Pissed off. Hurt. Overall, nothing has changed as these emotions have rocked me since this ordeal began. Even though it’s only been sixteen days, it feels like a lifetime. I don’t feel like the same person I once was.
Under normal circumstances, doing what I’ve done with someone like Saint would have never happened. Yes, my whirlwind romance with Drew happened in six short weeks, but during that time, I never allowed him to invade my soul like I have with Saint. Nor did I engage in such perverse acts.
Everything has changed, and the only person I have to talk to has suddenly gone silent.
Sighing, I focus on finding something to eat because I don’t know how long this storm will last. When I pass a low growing plant that looks like spinach, I drop to a crouch and decide to investigate. When it passes Saint’s tests, I’m elated to have finally found something useful. I may not know what it is, but it hasn’t set my skin on fire, so it’s okay with me.
“Harriet Pot Pie, did you see what I found?” I’m expecting her to cluck, just how she always does, but I don’t hear a sound.
Standing, I turn around to see that she’s not here. She was moments ago.
The sky begins to rumble as the white clouds give way to gray. “Harriet Pot Pie!” I call out, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Here, girl.”
It’s frightening how quickly the weather turns. The wind howls, and I grip a branch to stop from blowing over. Panic grips me. “Harriet Pot Pie!” I shout loudly, but a sudden crack of thunder drowns out my voice.
