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“You don’t like riddles?”
“I don’t see the point of this whole day. Why is Westwood making us do this?”
“Networking, team building…” With a smirk, I add, “Matchmaking?”
She blushes and looks at me. “That’s all you.”
“Is it working yet?”
“That’s still to be seen… Wait, sitting on the fence!”
“What?”
“The clue! If you can’t make up your mind, I might be where you’re sitting… The fence has to be the answer!”
Okay, we’re not discussing feelings yet.
“Read the next part again.”
“Reach the part where I let people in, find my clue, and you will win!”
“We have to go to…”
“The gate!” we say in unison.
Blake stands up. “All right, Indiana Jones, let’s go.” Without waiting for me, she hops down the rows of seats of the amphitheater.
I chase her with a grin, jogging to catch up. My legs cover the distance between us in seconds.
“Trying to shake me off already?”
“I’m not holding your hand for sure.”
“Come on, isn’t it exciting?” I tease her as we reach the bottom of the arena. “An adventure can’t be bad, right?”
After exiting the amphitheater, we take a left on the way to the resort gate.
Tied to the metal bars, another rolled-up clue waits for us.
Blake stares at it questioningly. “How many pairs are there in this treasure hunt?”
“About fifty, I think?”
“And Westwood planned individual clues for all the couples?”
“I doubt he did it himself, but his staff? Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“It seems a lot of work to keep a bunch of billionaires entertained.”
I shrug. “His conference, his rules.” I untie the roll of parchment from the gate and unveil the next riddle. “I have hands that move but can’t hold a thing. I can sing but cannot talk, and certainly can’t go for a walk. Cuckoo, find me for your next clue.” I re-read it silently and ask, “Any ideas?”
“Can you read the last sentence again?” Blake asks me.
“Cuckoo, find me for your next clue.” I read and look up at her.
At her fish-eating grin, I catch up that she’s just messing with me.
I bark out a laugh. “You’re going to pay for that later.”
