Mary wondered how much he knew, or if anyone had caught sight—or sound—of their pool activities the night before.
“We’re all happy to see Neal smiling again,” Tex said warmly as he put the sweating glass down in front of her.
Mary’s cheeks felt even hotter. “I, uh. Yes, me too. I mean, it’s a great smile.”
“I wouldn’t flirt with that bartender.” Neal’s voice surprised her from behind, and Mary swiveled on her stool to find him standing at the back entrance, shirtless and dirty and sweaty.
It was a heady combination, and Mary wondered exactly how red her face could become.
She gulped down some of her cold water as Tex protested, “Come on, now. Why shouldn’t she flirt with me?”
“You’re unlucky in love,” Neal reminded him.
“It’s a tragic truth,” Tex agreed mournfully. “You’re better off with this one,” he said to Mary.
“I think so, too,” Mary squeaked.
Neal’s shirtless proximity was terribly distracting.
“I thought we might take the boat out snorkeling this afternoon,” Neal told her, accepting his own glass of water from Tex and downing it in a few determined gulps.
Mary felt the color finally drain from her face. “Oh no,” she protested. “I don’t… not in the ocean. I couldn’t.”
Neal shrugged. “We could head over to the mainland with Travis, then. Do some shopping, or take the horseback shore tour.”
“Horseback?” Mary shivered. “I can’t ride. They’re so big, and no. No. I can’t. I don’t need to go shopping. No. Boats, no. Can’t.”
Tex and Neal blinked at her.
“I’m afraid of boats,” she confessed sheepishly, feeling their surprised scrutiny.
Tex found some glasses to wipe, politely looking away.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Neal suggested, looking baffled at her terror, but her look must have expressed her distrust adequately, and he counter-offered, “How about a hike, then? There’s an easy loop that goes up by a really gorgeous waterfall. It’s about five miles, no boats. We’ll take a picnic lunch.”
Mary wanted to balk. There were bugs, and snakes, and scorpions out there in the wild jungle, and she’d already had closer relations with a spider than she ever wanted to again. But she didn’t want Neal to think she was a complete ninny, either.
“That sounds nice,” she said weakly.
“I’ll grab a shower and get us a bagged lunch,” Neal said briskly.
“I’ll change clothes and pack a few things,” Mary offered with a brave smile. How bad could it be?
‘A few things’ proved to be her entire purse stuffed full, and Mary was glad she had opted for the kind that swung over a shoulder; bottles of water were heavy, and she wasn’t planning to go out without sunscreen and bug spray, or the pocket first aid kit. Spare socks and her raincoat made the bag bulky and awkward, and when Neal caught sight of her, his expression said more than he needed to.
He was carrying a single water bottle in one of the cargo pockets of his shorts, and, aside from the wicked-looking machete that hung from his belt, appeared to have nothing else extra on him.
Mary had changed into long, lightweight travel pants and sneakers, and she wished she’d brought heavier shoes, especially once they had hiked out the first mile.
Neal’s idea of an easy walk was clearly not her own, even though they stopped several times for Neal to hack back the encroaching jungle vines.
Mary was sweating and itchy and hating the smell of the bug spray she had saturated herself with by the time they stopped for lunch. She picked a rock to sit on that at least gave her a view of any insects that might try to sneak up on her, and could barely eat the lunch that Neal had packed for keeping an eye on the beetles and ants that were crawling around on the jungle floor. The dappled light through the jungle canopy made everything look as if it were always moving, and Mary spent the meal trying not to twitch at every rustle and skittering leaf.
“I’m sorry,” Neal told her, as they were finally packing up the dirty wrappers. The crumbs were swarmed by ants in a terrifying show of swift insect utility.
“There you go apologizing again,” Mary said with a weak attempt at a laugh.
“You’re not having fun.”