Page 56 of The Unlikely Pair

Relief shoots through me that Toby is doing the same.

Because those glimpses I was getting of his strong thighs weren’t helping me to maintain my composure.

Our jackets take longer to dry, but eventually, the wool of my coat is dry enough to wear.

Unfortunately, the light is beginning to fade.

“It’s starting to get dark. We need to extinguish the fire,” I say with regret. Somehow, this cheerfully flickering fire has made our current circumstances seem not quite so grim.

But we only saw one helicopter leaving. And our clothes are dry now. Fire at night increases our risk of being spotted.

Luckily, Toby doesn’t argue with me. Together, we reluctantly scoop up handfuls of dirt and throw them onto our fire.

“It’s like letting go of a friend,” Toby says mournfully. “Goodbye, precious fire.” He throws another handful of dirt. “It was fun while it lasted. In fact, it was more than fun. It was hot. Scorching even.”

Toby’s tendency towards melodrama can be infuriating. But it’s also amusing, and I feel my lips twitching upward.

Toby’s eyes drop to my mouth, and another part of me gives a twitch.

Bloody hell.

I concentrate on smothering the last of the fire with more dirt.

When I’ve finally finished, Toby’s examining the sleeping hollow I created.

“Um…so…we probably need to replicate last night’s sleeping arrangements,” he says.

I swallow. “I think that would be prudent.”

“It’s my turn to start out as the big spoon.”

“The ice cream scoop, you mean,” I say, and I’m rewarded by another flash of a smirk.

“The ice cream scoop holding the salad fork,” he agrees, and it’s my turn to hide my amusement.

We nestle into the hollow, one survival blanket beneath us, providing a barrier against the cold, unyielding ground. The other blanket is draped over us, a makeshift cocoon. We use our coats as bedding, arranging them meticulously around our bodies to serve as improvised blankets.

Toby’s arms hesitantly encircle me, and I make a concerted effort to avoid stiffening at the contact. The weight of his forearm rests across my waist, a solid presence that feels possessive. I catch the faint scent of smoke and pine that clings to his skin. With our bodies still radiating heat from our proximity to the fire and the layers carefully arranged around us, it’s almost…dare I say, cozy.

“We almost died today,” Toby whispers into the silence.

“But we didn’t,” I counter.

“Only because of you.”

“You are the one who came up with the idea for dummies.” I feel obliged to point it out. “We’d still be trapped behind the waterfall if it weren’t for that.”

He shifts position slightly, and the warmth of his breath is now on the back of my neck.

“Hopefully, we’ll survive tomorrow too,” he says.

“We’ll give it our best effort,” I reply, and Toby huffs a half-laugh.

I try to relax into the cocoon of warmth, but my mind starts to flicker with images from today.

Toby, with his careful ministrations to my feet. Toby in the river, clinging to the survival kit. That moment when the current was hurtling him towards the waterfall, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach him.

I suddenly find it hard to breathe.