Page 4 of Enticing Her Love

When he wasn’t looking at her like she was in trouble with the principal or saying something cutting, she could almost pretend he wasn’t a hard-ass jerk. “I can’t believe you’re not angrier about this assignment.”

“Who says I’m not angry?”

“You don’t seem bothered.”

“What do you want me to do, stomp my feet like a toddler when my boss says something I don’t like?”

“Is that supposed to be a dig at me?”

“You didn’t hear that from me.” He sipped his coffee.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you.” She took another drink, so grateful for the warm deliciousness, she couldn’t hold it in. “This is really good. Thank you.”

“You were looking pretty feral,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of you losing your shit and figured it might take the edge off.”

Mouth opens, hard-ass jerk returns.

SUTTON WAS TOO bleary eyed to be bothered by the sheeting rain when they finally landed in Coca, Ecuador, at five thirty a.m. They collected their massive waterproof backpacks and the gear bag the company had sent, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and caught a taxi for the ride to the airstrip where they were meeting the pilot who was going to fly them into the rainforest.

She gazed out the window at the stunning views of the mountains in the distance as they drove through Coca, a town known as the gateway to Ecuador’s Amazon rainforest because of its proximity to the Coca and Napo Rivers. Taking in the colorful concrete buildings lining the roads and the lush foliage, she wished they had time to explore the area and was hit with a familiar wave of gratitude for the chance the company had taken when they’d hired her. Her trouble with Flynn aside, she’d traveled all over the world, seeing and learning about people and places she’d never imagined having access to, and through Discovery Hour, she shared that knowledge to help raise awareness about plights that might otherwise go largely unnoticed. She’d also learned a lot from Flynn about in-depth reporting, presenting the news, and understanding and working with different cultures. Despite their strained relationship, it would be hard to leave all that behind.

It was a long, silent ride to the airstrip, and it rained the whole way. The one-story concrete building beside the airstrip had seen better days. Sutton pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head as they grabbed their backpacks from the trunk, but it promptly flew off. She squinted against the rain. “I imagined getting here and sleeping in the sun for a few hours, not drowning in a downpour.”

“We’re going to a rainforest, not the desert.” He strode toward the building.

Toying with the idea of burying him alive with tarantulas, she followed him into a crowded waiting room. Speaking in Spanish, Flynn told the two dark-haired men behind the counter that they were looking for Santiago Macías. The older of the two men rose to his feet, standing eye-to-eye with Sutton at five eight. Flynn towered over them at six three or four. In Spanish, Santiago introduced himself as their pilot, offering his hand and a warm smile, and proceeded to explain that he couldn’t fly in this weather but said they could wait with the others until there was a break in the rain.

Sutton asked how long the other people had been waiting. When he said several hours, she looked at Flynn. “If that’s the case, maybe we can give him our phone numbers so he can call when it’s safe to fly, and we can find a nearby hotel where we can shower and get a few hours’ sleep.”

“We finally agree on something.” He presented the idea to Santiago, who agreed and told them there was a hotel run by a friend of his less than a mile away and offered to drive them there.

After exchanging numbers, they followed him out to an old, rusted truck. Sutton slid onto the center of the bench seat, and Flynn packed his large body in beside her, squishing her between him and Santiago. She couldn’t wait to have some breathing space.

Beyond exhausted, she said, “How good does a hot bath, plush towels, and a comfy bed sound right now?”

“It won’t suck,” Flynn said.

A few minutes later, they turned onto a narrow dirt road and into the driveway of a small house that wasn’t in much better shape than the building at the airstrip. The yard was a mix of dirt and grass, and there was a small Hotel sign out front. Sutton knew better than to judge a book by its cover. They grabbed their packs, thanked Santiago, and headed inside to the reception desk.

“Hola,” said a plump woman with friendly eyes and tawny skin. She introduced herself as Ana, and they asked if she had two rooms available.

Sutton’s stomach sank when she said there was only one room available.

What had she done to deserve this kind of punishment?

Flynn must have seen something in her expression, because he said, “What’s the matter, Steele? If you can’t handle sharing a hotel room, maybe I should get you a ticket home.”

She glowered at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She forced a smile for Ana and in Spanish said they’d take the room. After Flynn paid for the room, Ana gave them the key and directed them down the hall.

Flynn unlocked the door, and Sutton could do little more than stare at the postage-stamp-sized room with peach walls, one double bed, a small dresser, and just enough space to walk between the bed and a beige love seat that was missing an arm, like a misplaced piece of a sectional sofa. There was no door separating the bathroom from the bedroom. A maroon sink stood against one wall beside a small shelving unit with towels and travel-sized bottles of what she assumed were shampoo and body wash. Just beyond the sink was a toilet alcove with saloon-style shutter doors that were almost a foot off the floor. To the left of that was a step-down shower, separated from the rest of the room by only a shower curtain.

“So much for a hot bath,” Sutton said.

Flynn walked into the middle of the room, making it feel even smaller. “The couch looks comfortable enough.”

“Good, then you won’t mind sleeping on it.” She dropped her backpack by the dresser.

“You’re kidding, right? Look at the size of that thing. Which of us do you think would sleep better on it?”