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“Hawaii has geysers. Have you ever heard of Halona Blowhole?”
She sighs and takes a swig of her water. “No.”
“There you go. Who needs Yellowstone?”
“Las Vegas?” she counters.
I pause. Vegas always sounded fun. Shows, lights, food—the works all in one single spot. The opposite of my beloved Hawaii. But still fun. No way I’d want to live there, but a visit…It might be fun to visit.
“Yeah?” she says, though I’ve said nothing. “You should go!”
“It’s the opposite of where I live,” I say, not confirming or denying her suspicions.
“Yes. So, it might be a fun place to experience once.” She lifts one creamy shoulder—not one freckle to be seen—and pulls ahead of me on the trail.
“Maybe,” I concede.
“And you aren’t getting a Disneyland, so you might as well visit California when you come for Vegas.”
I smirk. “Only, I’m not coming.”
“It was worth a try. For a man who likes adventure, you sure are limiting yourself.” She peers back at me, then tugs the tie holding back her sun-kissed, blonde hair. She shakes her hair down around her shoulders and runs a hand over her scalp.
I swallow. My stomach sparks. I may drool—just a little. Meg Miller is a challenge I didn’t expect. I knew I’d be challenging her this week, but she’s goading me.
And I kind of like it.
Not enough to book a trip. I’m truly content with my place and life. It’s more pleasure than pain, more amusement than work, and that’s the way I like it.
Still, she’s fun to banter with.
“And while you’re visiting Vegas and riding Space Mountain, you could…” she slows her pace, finding a spot next to me again, “visit your dad.”
No talk of Eric Jex will ruin my mood. “Ahhh,” I say, shaking a finger at her. “I see what you did there. But I’m not going, and if Vegas can’t tempt me, there’s no way my father will.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, though I haven’t shown any signs of anger. “It must be harder than I realized.”
“It is. But that’s not your fault.” I nudge her side with my elbow.
“Does he visit often?”
“He doesn’t. Malia lives in the States and she visits.”
“Your sister,” Meg says.
“Yes, my sister brings my five-year-old niece and my nine-year-old nephew and occasionally her husband, if he isn’t working.” I give my head a small shake. “Apparently you can’t do dental work on the beach.”
“No, I think that might be difficult.” Meg laughs. But the sound falters on her next step. Her left foot slides out from under her and she slips, coming down hard on her knees and sliding two feet down the incline we stand on. A low grunt escapes her as her body hits, and I reach out my hands, clasping onto her before she can slide any farther.
“Whoa,” I say, heart pounding. “You okay?”
A low giggle sounds from her throat. “Fine. I’m fine.” She wiggles free of my hold and rolls onto her back, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “See, now if I’d had a rope tied from me to you, this wouldn’t have happened.”
I sit next to her, halfway through our hour-long hike. “That makes sense. I wish I’d been smart enough to be so prepared.” I scan over her white shorts and legs, looking for any injuries. Her shorts aren’t so white anymore. And her knee is scraped and bleeding. I hiss when I see it. “And a first aid kit. That would be handy right now.”
She follows my gaze to the blood pooling over her knee. “Oh shoot.”
It must not hurt too badly because she didn’t seem to notice until I pointed it out. I pull my water from my pocket and uncap the lid. “Do you mind?” I ask, holding the bottle above her knee.
