Page 46 of Surviving Love

“What’s the parental situation?”

I hesitated. “My dad left when I was five. Got a new family in another state and never looked back.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t like having a sick kid. But it’s fine. I don’t remember him. I don’t miss him.” I wouldn’t bother mentioning how hard it had been growing up with classmates who had their doting dads around. My mom had done the best she could to be both parents, but a dad was a dad, and a mom was a mom. When one was missing, you noticed.

“Is your mom still alive?”

“Yes, she’s still alive. Shereallydidn’t want me to come on this show.” I winced. “She was sobbing when I left her at the airport.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. It was humiliating. I’m twenty-five, and she was acting like it was my first day of kindergarten.” I gave an embarrassed laugh.

His chuckle was husky. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“Only because she’s not your mom.”

“That’s probably accurate.”

The shelter shook, and another crack of thunder rattled the ground. Anxiety rippled through me, and I hugged myself, staring apprehensively up at the palm frond roof. “This isn’t just a regular storm, is it?”

“I suspect it’s verging on a cyclone. The winds outside were pretty extreme.”

I swallowed hard. “How are we supposed to survive something like that in a makeshift bamboo structure?” If I hadn’t been so nervous, maybe I’d have been bothered by the fact I sounded scared. But it didn’t seem unreasonable to be afraid in this situation.

“I was talking to one of the camera guys earlier, and he said the weather service was predicting this wouldn’t be an actual hurricane. They felt it would be a tropical storm at worst. I’m trusting they’re right.”

“Shouldn’t they have evacuated us?”

“They hoped just the edge of the storm would hit us.” He grimaced. “It’s possible this is just the edge. Even being near a cyclone is hairy.”

I shuddered. “If this is just a taste of the storm, how terrifying is a full-blown hurricane?”

“I’ve never been in one.”

I smiled weakly. “No. I don’t suppose Colorado has a lot of hurricanes.”

“Nor does LA, I’m guessing.”

“Nope. I’d give anything to be home right now, sitting in front of my fireplace, sipping a hot toddy.”

He laughed. “My dad drinks those.”

I winced. “No one ever accused me of being cool.”

He licked his lips. “Speaking of beverages, I’m thirsty. I’m going to snag us some rainwater.”

“How?”

“I found an old plastic soda liter bottle. I propped it up to catch the rain.” As he spoke, he crawled toward the front of the shelter and pushed the palm frond door open. The wind rushed in, along with a wall of rain, pelting Jack and me. I cowered at the back of the shelter, and he tucked his head down and left the shelter. After a few minutes, he returned, scrambling inside and cussing under his breath.

He pulled the makeshift door closed, breathing hard. “Jesus.” He had the soda bottle tucked in the curve of his arm, and some splashed out onto his shirt. Since we were both soaking wet, he probably didn’t even feel it. His short blond hair was plastered to his head as he sat down with a grunt.

Without even hesitating, he held the bottle out to me first. I was so thirsty, I didn’t argue. I gulped the cool rainwater down, amazed by how just that small amount of liquid made me feel so much better. Wiping my mouth, I handed the bottle back, and he drank. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his tanned throat as he swallowed, and I was once more aware of his raw masculinity. This wasn’t the time or the place to notice that stuff, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

He set the bottle down, pushing his wet hair off his forehead so that it spiked up slightly in the front. “That’s better. I was getting pretty dehydrated.”