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“Oh. Nice.”
Something about his tone told me he didn’t think that was nice at all, and I wasn’t sure what to say about that. I decided a change of topic was in order.
“So, if your interest is in people getting struck by lightning, why don’t you go to where the most occur? Like Africa.”
“You seem to have the preconceived idea and highly deluded notion that there is money in academia that would allow such travels.”
I snorted.
“We knowwhylightning happens,” he added. “Abundant moisture and the mountainous terrain help initiate thunderstorms. That’s why places like Africa, Central America, Asia, and Brunei experience the highest densities of strikes per square kilometre. Global patterns follow the equatorial band, more or less. Tropical storms, with high temperatures, high humidity; it makes sense. But lightning is still largely an unknown entity. We think we understand it, and we can grapple with the physics of lightning, but it’s unpredictable and dangerous, and—”
“And that’s why you love it.”
His gaze cut to mine. “I don’t love it. Far from it. I just want to understand it.” His voice was quiet, so final, there was nothing I could add. He made himself busy looking at data readouts, so I lit up the citronella candles and plugged in the vibration poles at the four corners of the shed.
“What are they?” Jeremiah asked, watching me.
“Critter deterrents,” I replied. “Snakes, mostly. The poles go into the ground like a tent peg and emit a low frequency vibration pulse. It keeps snakes away, but also goannas and other uninvited friendlies. Spiders don’t like it much either.”
“Good,” he said, looking suspiciously up at the ceiling rafters, then his eyes drifted back to the bed. “And the netting thing?”
“We roll it down of a night. The mozzies are big enough to carry you outta here.”
He made a face. “Oh great.”
I put a can of bug repellent spray on the table. “This is your friend. It stinks but it works.” I left him to it and made a start on dinner. “I hope you like beef and rice,” I said. “Because we’ll be eating it a lot.”
“Oh yeah, that sounds great, actually.”
I’d mastered the one-pot rice and beef in my time camping. I’d throw in some veggies or beans, and when I was sick of it, I’d add in different flavours and spices. I’d never much cared for cuisine. I’d just needed to feed myself enough of something to sustain me; I never needed anything fancy. Jeremiah didn’t seem to be the fancy type, but after a week of eating the same thing, he might not be so thankful.
When I handed him a bowl, he took it with a smile. “Oh, wow. Thank you.” He shovelled in the first few mouthfuls like he was starving. “This is really good!”
I chuckled. “We’ll see if you’re saying that at the end of the week.”
He demolished his dinner, and it surprised me just how much he could put away. “I’ll wash up,” he said, taking my empty bowl. “Fair’s fair.”
I watched him at the makeshift sink for a while, with the pump faucet and having to boil water on the gas stove, letting him figure how to use it. He managed just fine. “How was the data you collected?” I asked.
“It was okay.” He wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. “Jeez, it’s hot. The humidity is brutal.”
I smirked at him. “Yeah. You get used to it.”
“Have you lived in Darwin your whole life?”
“Yep. Where the only two seasons we have are hot and really fucking hot.”
He finished washing up, then lifted the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face, giving me a great view of his waist. Trim, muscular even, which I didnotexpect, and a trail of dark hair from his navel down to his...
He cleared his throat.
I shrugged, not one bit sorry. “If you’re hot, take your shirt off. Hell, get around in your undies. I don’t care.”
He made a face. “I might take a shower,” he mumbled, quickly taking his toiletries and towel with him.
“Okay,” I replied, even though he didn’t appear to hear me.
I heard him mumble to himself, then I heard the water...
