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“Yes, but it’s not that easy. I would guesstimate they’ll need to search an area of about ten-thousand square miles.”
I feel a surge of horror washing over me. It’s a strange calm that washes over me. “What?” I repeat.
“It’s going to take longer than a couple of hours,” he says. “We need to sit tight. There’s not much else we can do.”
The thought of sitting idly by, waiting for rescue makes me crazy. Sitting tight isn't something I know how to do. I've spent my entire life forging ahead, taking charge, and making things happen. The idea of being at the mercy of someone else's timetable is utterly galling.
"How long is 'soon'?" I demand, my voice bordering on hysteria. "I can't just sit here and wait. I need to do something."
Travis's expression remains impassive. "It's going to be a while," he says simply, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You better get comfortable."
I bristle at his nonchalant attitude, the urge to lash out rising within me like a tidal wave. But before I can give voice to my anger, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone on the shore.
I watch him go, frustration simmering beneath the surface. What does he know that I don't? Is he hiding something from me, or is he simply as clueless as I am?
"Are we in the Hawaiian Islands?" I call after him, my voice tinged with desperation.
He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "No," he replies. "It's likely privately owned or just a blip in the middle of the ocean. Some of these little blips disappear with high tide."
Panic surges through me at the thought of being stranded on a disappearing island, at the mercy of the unforgiving sea. "What happens then?" I demand, my voice rising with fear.
Travis turns to face me, his expression unreadable. "I don't know," he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "We’re going to have to wait and see."
I trudge after him, the absurdity of my situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. Here I am, stranded on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean, wearing a designer dress. My toes sink into the sand. That’s when I remember I lost my shoes.
“You brought your bag?” I ask, suddenly furious.
“I used my bag to grab what I could from the pantry.”
“What about my suitcase?”
He gives me a dry look. “Your suitcase weighed about a hundred pounds. I thought food and water were more practical. I couldn’t make the swim back with your suitcase. I put it on top of the fuselage. Hopefully, it will wash ashore. The tide is coming in.”
My mouth drops open. “My suitcase is just out there floating around? What if it doesn’t come ashore?”
He turns to look at me. That’s the first time I realize he’s shirtless. I notice the tattoo over his heart and some kind of tribal band around his upper left arm. There’s another one in Chinese letters trailing down his ribcage.
“Lady, I’m not sure if you’re paying attention, but we just survived a crash that should have killed us. You’re alive and in one piece. You don’t have more than a few scratches on you. I would think your designer shoes and clothes and God knows what else in your suitcase would be the least of your worries. Maybe you should thank me for keeping your sweet ass alive.”
I flinch at his words, but suddenly I realize how ridiculous I sound. He’s right. My Louboutins and Gucci dress don’t matter. What am I going to do, put on a designer dress while I build a hut to live in? While I eat a coconut?
“Fine,” I say. “What do we do?”
He runs his hand over his face, drawing my attention to the jagged cut on his forehead. “We should probably build a fire. It’s warm now, but it’s likely to get cold when the sun goes down.”
Once again, panic washes over me. “You think we’re going to be here overnight?”
“I think we have a couple of hours before sundown and it’s very likely,” he nods.
“How are you going to start a fire?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Any chance you have a lighter in that purse?”
My first reaction is to say no. That’s what I always say.
He smirks and holds out his hand. “Trust me, babe, I pegged you for a closet smoker the moment I laid eyes on you. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I don’t smoke,” I snap.
