Words of Love - By Hazel Hunter Page 0,8

sound of pounding rain finally registered.

That’s right. The monsoon. The tent.

She looked at her wet clothes, draped over the top of a wooden crate and looked under the light blanket that covered her. She was naked.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

It hadn’t been a dream.

Outside the tent she heard someone moving around in the cavern. That had to be Brett. She suddenly sat up and clutched the blanket to her chest as her face flushed hot.

“Oh my god,” she whispered again.

How could she face him?

In her life, she’d never done anything like that before.

Even now, it was all a blur–the storm, the lightning, him.

Her heart was pounding and a sudden wave of dizziness swept over her. She closed her eyes and steadied herself with a hand on the bed.

But as quickly as it started, it stopped. She slowly opened her eyes and they landed on her suitcase. She couldn’t stay in here forever. She’d have to get dressed and go out.

• • • • •

Brett removed the black beans from the camp stove and substituted the rice. The small stack of corn tortillas was already on the table with a bottle of salsa. Beans, rice, and tortillas would be their steady diet until they left–about a week if things went as planned.

Right, he thought. Things had already not gone to plan. He stirred the boiling water and rice without really seeing it.

What had he been thinking last night?

He shook his head. That wasn’t the right question.

Why wasn’t he thinking?

And to that question, he already knew the answer. He’d been terrified. For himself, he admitted, but mostly for Jessica. He blinked as he remembered the lightning strike. Even now, his palms got sweaty. She’d come very close to dying. They both had.

And when he’d reached the safety of the cavern, he’d felt almost giddy. But she had reacted differently and it was her reaction that had finally brought home what had happened. It had all been too much, and then one thing led to another, and–

The rice was starting to boil over.

He quickly lifted the pot from the flame.

As he looked at it, he remembered the scorched shirt and the pinkness of her back. He took in a deep breath. It hadn’t helped that she was beautiful and that he hadn’t suspected that in the least. In fact, it’d been a shock.

He lowered the flame and put the pot back down.

He sighed.

You’re making excuses, so just stop. You knew what you were doing.

And with a student.

In the field.

It was the one thing he’d been accused of almost his entire career and the one thing he’d never done. People just assumed it because of his looks. They probably also assumed that’s why he was divorced, but it wasn’t–not even close.

He looked toward the interior of the cavern, though the light of the propane lanterns didn’t penetrate far.

This was the reason his wife–his ex-wife–had divorced him. His obsession had stopped being her and it had become this site. Rather than divulge the real reason for his divorce, he’d let the wild rumors about himself and students circulate–rumors until now that is.

“Good morning,” he heard from behind him.

“Good morning,” he said automatically, as he turned.

Jessica was back in uniform–the baggy clothes and baseball cap and the overly large glasses. Even so, now that he’d seen her, it was hard to put that sight from his mind.

She self-consciously adjusted her glasses and he realized he was staring.

He looked back down at the rice and turned off the flame. It was an awkward situation and he had no idea what to do. For once, he wished that the rumors were true because maybe then he’d have a clue.

“I hope you like rice and beans,” he said, and turned to her with a smile. But when he turned around, she was quickly walking to the front of the cave. “Jessica?” he said, calling after her.

She started to run.

He put the rice down and ran after her.

“Jessica!” he yelled.

No matter how awkward he’d felt, he hadn’t expected this. But as he got closer to the cave entrance, he realized what was happening. She was retching. He stopped to give her some space. She was hanging her head over the edge of the ledge, in the rain.

When she was finally done, she cupped some rainwater in her hand and started to wash out her mouth with it.

“No don’t,” he yelled. She froze. “You’ve got to use filtered water,” he said. “I’ll get some.”

He trotted back to the stove and brought