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“No,” I rasp, already backing toward the door. “That was my fault. Apologies.”
“I—what?” Betty stares at me, baffled, as I wrench the door open, bell ringing. Her name tag got twisted upside down during our clinch, caught in her apron strap. “Are you coming back? Will I see you again?”
“No.”
The door swings shut behind me, but not before I hear a quiet, “Well, screw you too.”
* * *
We make it down to the water’s edge before Betty tears her hand from mine. Base camp is out of sight, hidden by rocks and trees and a long stretch of coast, and the waves out here should muffle our words.
Still, I make a hushing motion as Betty rounds on me. “Youasshole, River! You are such an asshole!”
I know. I know I am. Everything this woman wants to say to me—I deserve it and then some, but we still need to be careful.
“Let’s get out of this mess first, okay?” My ears strain for pounding boots or panicked calls; for any sign the mercenaries heard that and noticed Betty’s missing. Nothing, thank god. “Let me get you to safety. Then you can yell at me all you like, I promise.”
Betty huffs, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She looks so vulnerable, glaring up at me in the moonlight. The ocean sparkles where it laps the shore behind her, and the volcanic black sands are tinted silver.
“I am on anisland, River. With a volcano.”
“I know.”
“And a bunch of strange, awful men who would kill me for fun.”
“I know.”
“And they made me look for you in that jungle. Do you know how much I hate spiders? There are probably tons of spiders in there!”
I bite my tongue, wincing at the memory of that tarantula on her shoulder. If Betty didn’t notice, I’ll never tell her. She’d never stop slapping at her bare skin. She’d be traumatized.
Besides, Betty shouldn’t be here, sweaty and scared, her bare arms scratched up from the jungle. She should be tucked up safely in her own bed, dreaming sweet dreams, and the biggest hassle in her life should be a picky customer at the coffee shop. Notthis.
This is exactly what I feared my interest would bring her. This is exactly why I forced myself to stay away.
“You know the real kicker, though?” Betty’s jaw is set, her eyes hard. A finger jabs the center of my chest as she speaks. “The real kicker is that they brought me out here asbaitfor a man who kissed me once and then never bothered with me again!”
I catch her wrist, my heart hollow. I’ve done so many things wrong with this woman.
“I was trying to protect you,” I say, willing her to believe me. Her pulse beats rapidly against my thumb, but Betty’s glare is unimpressed. I stroke her soft skin, and every part of my body aches at having her near again.
I gave this up. Forced myself to keep away, even though being away from her felt like sawing off a limb.
Now we’re together again, alone under the stars, and there’s no reason to keep away anymore. The worst has already happened. The agency knows she’s my weakness.
“Protect me?” Betty repeats, her tone acidic. “Well, great job. Five stars.”
And she’s right to be mad—but that’s not why I step closer. It’s the way her chin wobbles, and the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Betty’s not just angry. She’s also scared and tired and vulnerable. And she thinks I don’t want her—that our one kiss was enough.
Fuck that.
A shiver ripples through her whole body as I cup the side of her face, just like I did all those weeks ago. But there’s no counter between us this time; no mop clutched in her hands. There’s just the two of us, sweaty and bruised and swaying toward each other.
“Is this okay?”
Betty huffs out a sigh and steps near, our clothes brushing together. “It’s okay. You giant jerk.”
