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“Melbourne,” Wyatt said, and I laughed.
“You have no idea how big Australia is, do you? That would take three days of constant driving, at least.”
“The Great Barrier Reef,” Isaac pitched in. I shook my head and refused to give them any clues until I turned into the wide double gates. The huge sign behind them gave it away:Lewinksi’s Wildlife Park, along with an illustrated map and YOU ARE HERE next to a red dot.
“What’s Lewinski?” Wyatt asked.
“Martin Lewinski. The guy who used to own this place,” I said. “He sold it, but I guess they never changed the name.”
I pulled into a parking spot and the guys put on hats and sunglasses that they pulled out of their backpacks.
“Make fun of us all you like,” Wyatt said when I chuckled at how comical it was to see him attempt to tie back his unruly hair under the hat. “But being recognized is one of the hardest parts of this job.”
“You saw everyone at the cafe.” Isaac pointed to a group of school-aged children who were entering the zoo with their parents. “Imagine multiplying that by an entirezoofull of people.”
We made our way to the gift shop, where I bought three tickets and the guys wandered around, picking up toy koalas and kookaburras.
“My niece would love this.” Wyatt used his credit card to pay for his purchases.
“Forget the kids, this is all for me,” Isaac said, as he tucked his toy kangaroo into a bag the sales girl had given him. “I love souvenirs. Not that I’ve seen a single kangaroo yet.”
His face fell with disappointment and I grinned to myself, knowing that he was about to seeplenty.
Along with the tickets, the sales girl had passed me a printed map of the park and I held it up, trying to get my bearings. There were three main paths that led out of the gift shop. One led to the aquariums, one to the large mammals, and one to the Australian section, where there was also a petting zoo.
We started with the path that was aptly labeled Penguin Lane, where we passed through an indoor display that was full of water tanks. The first one contained penguins, unsurprisingly, who seemed oblivious to our presence. They waddled on the ice, dove into the water, and didn’t react to the oohs and aahs from the small crowd on the other side of the glass. I crouched and stepped backwards to get a photo of the penguin that glided under the water and gasped with surprise when my ass came into contact with something warm and soft.
“I’m so sorry!” I turned to see Wyatt standing there, grinning. I’d been so preoccupied by the penguins that I’d backed right into his thighs.
“Don’t be,” he said with a grin, before turning away to look at the seals. I couldn’t believe how clumsy I’d been, and after that I was extra careful to respect their personal space… but it was easier said than done when the narrow corridors were packed with other people and we were all distracted by the animals.
It was the last week of the summer school holidays, and we found ourselves weaving through groups of kids and their fed-up parents, stopping several times to let other people pass us.
To my surprise, their disguises worked: Isaac’s hooked nose and Wyatt’s unruly hair were recognizable even though their faces were half covered by the hats, but the other patrons weretoo distracted by the animals to give us more than a passing glance.
Isaac touched the small of my back to steer me around three children who ran away from their exasperated father, and Wyatt pulled me out of the way when another child freaked out at the sight of a saltwater crocodile and almost barreled into my legs.
Finally, we made it through the aquarium area, and instead of following the crowds downhill to the big cats, climbed a flight of stairs and emerged on a platform above the enclosure that held capuchin monkeys. They moved like gymnasts, swinging from rope to rope, also oblivious to our presence.
“Capuchin monkeys are native to Central and South America,” I read from the information board. “Their life expectancy is fifteen to twenty-five years in the wild, although it can reach fifty years in captivity.”
“Capuchins are polygamous,” Wyatt read ahead of me. His sunglasses covered his eyes, but his dimples popped when he gave a cheeky grin. “Lucky bastards.”
“The female can mate with up to six males inone day,” I read on, and peered into the enclosure, shading my eyes from the sun. “That sounds exhausting!”
Wyatt nudged me with his elbow.
“Is that something you know from experience?”
I wanted to throw back a retort that was clever and sassy, but instead I said the first thing that came to my mind.
“Only if you count imaginary men.”
I elbowed him back with more power than I’d intended, mad at myself for implying that I’d been fantasizing about orgies. Because I hadn’t…. and sure, the idea was a turn-on, but nobody actuallydidthat, did they?
Isaac stepped between us with a hand on each of our shoulders, separating us as though we were children and he was our teacher.
“Now, stop it…”
