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Global Geography wouldn’t love learning that Rafael had splurged on a three-hundred-dollar cab ride, but when he’d texted his boss that he’d missed the bus, he’d told him, “Do what you need to do” to get to Manacapuru. He figured that gave him free rein to spend GloGeo ’s money as he best saw fit. Spending an extra hundred for some random stranger to tag along, though? Yeah…But what was he supposed to have done? Leave her there? By the look of things, her day had been even worse than his. It’s what any Good Samaritan would have done and had nothing to do with the fact that he was thoroughly charmed.

Okay, fine. It had everything to do with that.

He hadn’t meant to stare when he’d first crouched down to pick up the errant Pringles, but her sapphire eyes entranced him from behind her glasses. And as the playful words gushed out of her mouth like a faucet that couldn’t be turned off, clearly not an attempt to impress him, well…he’d been downright captivated. Something about her whole nerdy-glasses-and-messy-bun combo was doing it for him.

Not that he was in Brazil looking for romance. But given the unwelcome hellish couple of weeks he was in for on this trip, he deserved a momentary distraction.

“Here.” The woman handed over a wad of cash from the pouch underneath her shirt. “I have fifty-two dollars, but I can get you the rest when we get to Manacapuru.”

He waved her off. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Consider it an apology.”

She tilted her head to the side.

“For the bathroom earlier,” he clarified, and her terrified look of mortification flashed through his mind. “Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything.”

Her cheeks flushed. “You promise?”

“Promise. You’ve got lightning-fast reflexes.”

“You didn’t see me trying to run down the bus that we both missed,” she said, half chuckling, half wincing.

“Was it smooth?”

“Oh, the smoothest.” She smiled and ducked her head, pushing a loose strand of her light brown locks behind her ear. “Thank you, by the way. I’m Miriam, or you can call me Miri,” she said, extending her hand.

“Rafael. Or you can call me Rafa.” His hand enveloped hers and he fought the urge to stare. “American?”

“Is it that obvious?” Her face twisted, and he snickered.

“I can say no if you’d like.”

She let out a breath, blowing her bangs up. “What gave it away? Super posh accent? Stylish clothes? General lack of awareness when changing in a public bathroom?”

“Fanny pack.” He tried to keep a straight face when he said it, but he couldn’t help his lips quirking.

“Hey, this is a money belt, thank you very much,” she said as she puffed up her chest and smiled.

“Exactly.” That smile was something. The woman was wearing a fanny pack, yet he found her utterly adorable.

“I take it you aren’t American?”

He shook his head. “Canadian.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Canadian, aye?” It came out more like a pirate than a Canadian.

“Quebecois,” he responded, his gaze homing in on her. “Grew up in Montreal, though I live in Washington, DC, now. Avez-vous déjà été?”

“Oh.” She clearly had no idea that he’d asked if she’d ever been there, but her hungry eyes shot to his lips, as was customary—and as he intended—whenever he opened his mouth and released his French-Canadian je ne sais quoi. Every. Time. One didn’t look and sound like Rafa and not know how it affected women.

Or use it to their advantage from time to time.

“I thought you may have been a local when I first saw you at the airport,” she continued.

“First time here. Though my mother was Brazilian.”

“Are you here to visit family?”

He paused for a moment, debating how to respond. Stranger or not, no one was supposed to know he was in Brazil, and especially not what he was doing there.

The reasons for his travels were to be kept top secret: document a private archaeological expedition in the Amazon to find the lost Cidade da Lua. His employer—top world culture, travel, and exploration magazine Global Geography —had learned of the excursion from the team financier, some wealthy businessman named Eugene Larity, who wanted to chronicle this momentous occasion. Or, at least, potentially momentous, seeing as dozens of explorers had undertaken this very same quest to no avail. But GloGeo had been involved in many great discoveries, and somehow Mr. Larity was familiar with Rafa’s work as both a prize-winning journalist and an accomplished photographer.

Too bad he wasn’t familiar with the fact that Rafa had recently tried quitting his job.

But this was it. One last mission and then he was done. Or he would be, once he could convince his dad that leaving GloGeo to pursue writing novels wasn’t the career suicide his father made it out to be.

So, fresh off his prior assignment and with less than a week’s notice, Rafa had packed his bags, done some rudimentary research on the Moon City, and set off for his next—and hopefully, final—adventure.

Tchau, DC, olá, Brazil.

All that to say, though the chances were slim to none that Miri would A) know what the hell he was talking about or B) care enough to do anything about it, he didn’t need her making even a casual reference to her friends and family about the GloGeo journalist she’d met who was on his way to the Cidade da Lua.

“Yeah, meeting my uncle and some cousins,” he answered before the pause came off as too suspicious. “And, hopefully, exploring a bit of my mother’s homeland while I’m here.”

Was that believable? Though, honestly, it would be nice to finally get up close and personal with his heritage. He knew so little about the maternal side of his family tree, only the things his father told him, which wasn’t much given his parents’ whirlwind romance. Many years ago, Rafa had tried tracking down whether he even had relatives in Brazil, but, unsurprisingly, ancestry websites weren’t all that useful when the only thing he had to go on was his mother’s first name: Andressa. No birthplace. No former addresses. Not even a last name, since it seemed she’d used a fake one on his birth certificate.

But now that he was here…well, maybe he’d finally be able to get some answers.

“That’s awesome,” Miri said, interrupting his thoughts. “I always wanted to do that—visit my parents’ birthplace.”

Phew. He let out a breath, thankful for his convincing delivery. Lying wasn’t really his forte, although it would be good to start getting in some practice before the expedition heated up.

“And where would that be?”

“Poulsbo, Washington. I mean, not nearly as sexy as Brazil, but I hear it’s beautiful. They met there in the seventh grade and, well, you know how the saying goes.”

He quirked his brow.

“ The rest is history ,” she offered. “Sorry, maybe they don’t say that in Canada?”

“Yes, we say that in Canada,” he said with a chuckle. “So, what’s stopping you? From visiting Poulsbo, I mean.”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Time. Money. Motivation.”

“Yet you’re in Brazil? Some would say that’s the opposite of the usual.” He said it with a smile, but her face instantly fell, and her cheeks blushed.

“I, uh…I’m here for work, so that doesn’t count.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“Oh…” Her eyes shifted. Hmm. “I, uh…I’m a consultant,” she said.

“What kind of consultant?”

“Um…I…” she murmured, twisting her hands in her lap. “I, uh, am a…a backpack consultant.”

Backpack consultant? Rafa cocked his head. “Is that an actual job?” he asked.

She snapped, “Yes, it’s an actual job.” Her eyebrows knit together.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. I’ve never heard of a backpack consultant before, is all.”

“There are consultants for everything.”

He nodded. “I suppose that’s true. What does a backpack consultant do?”

“Oh, you know…” She raised her head, looking everywhere but at him.

No, clearly he didn’t .

“We test out backpacks for manufacturers and tell them what works and doesn’t work.”

“You’re going to be backpacking through Brazil?”

“Yep.”

“Alone?” The Amazon didn’t exactly seem like the most hospitable place for a test run, with its giant green anacondas, red-bellied piranhas, electric eels, and a whole host of poisonous bugs, frogs, and snakes. Not to mention poisonous Amazonian plants and Cannonball trees, dropping giant bowling ball–sized fruit from the sky onto unsuspecting tourists’ heads. Traveling in a group expedition was dangerous enough. Rafa didn’t want to imagine encountering these dangers alone.

She tilted her head and offered an overly confident smile. “Don’t think I can handle myself? Need I remind you of my lightning-fast reflexes?”

He had to hand it to her. She certainly had spunk. “I retract my last question.”

Where had this woman come from? Maybe this was a sign.

A sign of what, exactly, he had no clue. But visiting this country had been a pivotal moment in his dad’s life. It had been the place he’d found purpose. Found…love.

Rafa glanced at Miri, and then he quickly wiped the ridiculous thought away. Was he seriously daydreaming about love four thousand miles away from home and hours before he was scheduled to set foot in the Amazon on an uncharted adventure? He’d only just met this woman. Arrête d’être niaiseux.

“Address?” the driver called out, stealing Rafa’s attention.

“Here,” Rafa said, pulling out his phone and pulling a text up on his screen. “Hotel dos Sonhos.”

“Wait,” Miri said, placing her hand on Rafa’s forearm, sending a pleasant jolt through his body. “That’s where I’m staying.”

He turned toward Miri. “You’re…you’re staying at the same hotel?”

“Unless there’s more than one?”

“Only one,” the driver called out.

This is definitely a sign.

No…no. Rafa waved off the absurdity of it all. He’d taken this job for a reason, and he couldn’t disregard it simply because this woman had made him smile half a dozen times in less than thirty minutes. Besides, not to judge a book by its cover, but Miri didn’t quite seem like the type who partook in casual rendezvous with strangers. That she could barely look at him without blushing didn’t exactly mesh with his usual meet me in my room in an hour routine he’d grown accustomed to on the job.

And yet, Rafa had a tough time accepting that the universe put the two of them on the same bus platform, hitching a ride to the same hotel in Brazil, for shits and giggles.

“So…” Rafa patted his hand against his thigh, debating his next move. Time slowed to a near standstill. Now what? Would they spend the next hour riding together in silence before she’d eventually thank him for the cab fare? Then would she wish him a nice life and a good visit with his family, to be followed by him spending the next who knows how many weeks in the fucking rainforest, drenched, miserable, with nothing but the memory of her sapphire eyes keeping him warm at night, leaving him to regret passing up the opportunity to spend more time together when it presented itself?

He erased the thought from his mind. That didn’t seem right. It didn’t need to end with a handshake, even if his job had to take priority and even if she didn’t seem like his typical hookup companion. Or maybe…maybe he needed to let the universe play its course.

And to quit making assumptions about whether Miri fit some preconceived mold Rafa had concocted. Maybe she was a backpack consultant during the daytime, but a bedroom consultant at night.

Hmm …

They sat staring at each other for another few moments as Rafa weighed the pros and cons of his next couple of words.

“I’ve got this thing tonight, but—” he started as she simultaneously said, “Did you know the Amazon is home to—”

They paused. Fuck . Guess he’d read that wrong. “You go,” he said.

“No, you first. I insist.”

Aside from an awkward taxi ride, what did he have to lose?

“I was going to say, I’ve got a thing I have to go to this evening, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a drink afterward? What were you going to say?”

“I…I…”

Rafa’s body tensed at her hesitation. What… was this sensation? He’d never been nervous around women. On the rare occasion that a woman passed on his advances, it never bothered him. And he certainly didn’t get anxious when he awaited a reply.

“I was going to ask if you knew the Amazon is home to some amazing bars and if you’d like to get a drink this evening?”

He exhaled internally. “No, you weren’t,” he said, smiling at her. But cute that she’d tried.

“You’re right.” She smiled back. “Technically, I was going to ask if you knew the Amazon is home to two point five million insect species. But I’d…I’d like to get a drink…” She blushed. “Unless after this car ride you decide you can’t handle all this awesomeness. And by awesomeness, I mean, this,” she said, motioning her hands over her fanny pack like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune .

Rafa burst out laughing, garnering a raised eyebrow from the driver in the rearview mirror. Mind your business.

“I’m only coming if you wear that, Pringles. And bring your snack bar.”

“Well, you’re in luck, my Quebecois-nian friend. This thing doubles as a snack pouch.”

He bowed his head to partially conceal his smile.

“Sounds great.”

He may be there for work, but he could still have a little fun after the team meeting. Who knew how long it would be before he had another chance to let his hair down, so to speak?

But after that, he’d focus. Because Rafa was here for one purpose and one purpose only—to sabotage any attempts Mr. Larity’s archaeological team had at finding the Lost City of the Moon.