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He smiled against her lips, couldn’t help it, and then he kissed her back.
When she pulled back, she let out a loud whoop.
“You’re wild,” he said.
She laughed. “You make me wild!”
Then she bent down, picked up the box, and unlatched it.
Cash couldn’t take his eyes away from her face. He wanted to see every expression as she won the million dollars for her charity. What a woman. A kind, loving, beautiful, sweet, fun woman.
A woman who could never be his.
He pushed the stupid and too-familiar angst of that away and waited for her to break into smiles, show off the money, jump in the air, throw her arms around him, and kiss him good and long.
Her mouth was curved up and her eyes lit with anticipation as she lifted the lid of the small box open. Her expression changed to puzzled and then to maybe disappointment and then relief.
“Hold it up for the camera,” he told her, forcing himself to pick up the backpack and angle the camera at her. This was a huge moment for the show, and Mercedes had been very kind and generous. “Give us all that beautiful, beaming smile.”
He hoped he was being cute and supportive. He was trying, even as the end of their time together smacked him harder than a shot from a .50 caliber at point blank range. Game over. That’s what that shot and this moment was.
At least they had a plan. At least they had tonight.
She glanced at him and gave him the cutest little smirk. “Joke’s on us.” Then she tilted the box so he could see and the camera could pick it up.
The box was empty.
Empty, except for a white note taped to the bottom.
KEEP TRYING!
YOU’LL FIND IT!
What? This was worse than finding the flags and nothing. Much worse.
Cash set the backpack on the ground. “Oh, Bry, I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged, dropped the box back in the hole and said into the camera, “Make sure your team cleans that up, Mercedes.”
“Brylee? Are you okay?” Cash couldn’t imagine how disappointed she was.
“I’m fine. Another flag down. How many are left? Fourteen? Am I counting right? We can find them in two and a half more days.” She lifted the shovel and grabbed some huge leaves off a banyan tree and wiped it clean. Then she stowed it in his backpack.
Cash studied her, not sure if she needed comfort, encouragement, to vent, or a hug. He would happily give her anything she needed. Ah, crap. Unless … Did she need space? Maybe she was one who liked to cry by herself. He didn’t want to give her much space; he had to keep her safe and close to him.
She picked up her backpack and strapped it on. Then she looked at him and burst out laughing. “Cash. You should see your face. I’m fine.”
“You are? You’re not disappointed?”
“Heck no. I get two and a half more days with you.” She gave him such a brilliant smile the tropical sun couldn’t dream of competing with that light and radiance.
“Ah, Brylee.” He found his throat thick. Was that emotion?
“Do you mind chopping your way through this jungle until we hit the beach, as per our original plan for the day? Then we can go eat, bathe, and kiss the night away.” She winked at him.
“I can do that. Do you care if I take an angle toward the beach? I have an idea.” He hefted his backpack and strapped it on, the machete case over top of it. Then he lifted the machete.
“Sounds great. I trust whatever idea you have.” Brylee reached in and squeezed his bicep. “These beautifully formed biceps can hack their way through any mangy obstacle.” She sounded British. “I fancy your toughness, inability to complain, and your brilliant muscles, oh Captain my Captain.”
