‘Have you had those?’
‘Yes, but you have to be careful. If they’re not ripe, they taste horribly sour. If they are, incredibly sweet. You just have to take your chances.’ He picked up a fruit, testing its ripeness with his thumb. ‘Try it.’ The fruit seller quickly peeled the lanzone with a knife and handed her a piece. Warily, she bit into it and then, without thinking, spat the piece out into her hand. ‘Yuck!’
‘Bitter, huh?’
‘You don’t sound surprised.’
He shrugged, and she hit him in the shoulder. ‘You did that on purpose!’
‘Try this one.’
‘Why should I trust you?’ she demanded even as she took the second peeled lanzone.
‘Because even lanzones deserve a second chance.’
Something in his quiet, serious tone made her mouth dry and her heart beat hard. She took a bite, and her mouth filled with the intense sweetness of the fruit. Her eyes widened. ‘Wow.’
‘See?’ He sounded so satisfied, so smug, that Aurelie rolled her eyes.
‘Thank you very much for that life lesson. Message received. Everything deserves a second chance.’
‘Not everything.’ After handing the vendor some coins, he’d placed his hand on the small of her back and was guiding her to the next stall. ‘Just me and the fruit.’
He acted, Aurelie thought, as if he were the only one who’d made a mistake. Who needed a second chance. Yet when she thought of her behaviour at their first meeting—and even their second—she felt as if she was the one who needed to change. Who wanted to prove she was different. Not Luke.
She glanced at him, her gaze taking in his stern profile, the hard line of his mouth, the latent strength of his body. What was he trying to prove?
He’d put several lanzones into a straw basket he’d bought from another vendor, and they added mango, spring rolls and some local sausage and cold noodles to their purchases. The sun was hot overhead even though the air felt swampy, and Luke bought two bottles of water and some sun hats as well.
‘Now to the falls,’ he said, and Aurelie followed him to a tin-roofed garage where he conferred with a young man who couldn’t be more than sixteen before leading her around to the back where a battered-looking Jeep awaited.
‘Your carriage, madam.’
She eyed it dubiously. ‘I don’t particularly relish breaking down in the middle of the jungle.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re not taking this into the jungle.’
‘Where, then?’
‘A car park about five kilometres from here. Then we walk.’
‘Walk? In the jungle?’
‘It’s worth it.’
‘It’d better be.’
Luke stowed their provisions in the bag, handed her a sun hat, and then swung into the driver’s seat. Aurelie could not keep her gaze from resting on his strong, browned forearms, the confident way he manoeuvred the rusty vehicle through the crowded streets of Mambajao and then out onto the open road, no more than a bumpy, rutted track.
The breeze was a balmy caress on her skin, the sun a benediction. In the distance the lush mountains—active volcanoes, Luke had told her—were dark, verdant humps against a hazy sky. Aurelie leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
When had she last felt this relaxed, this happy?
It was too long ago to remember. Smiling, she let her thoughts drift as the sunlight washed over her.
‘We’re here.’
She opened her eyes and saw that Luke had pulled into a rectangle of gravel and dirt that was, apparently, a car park. Their Jeep was the only car.
She rubbed her eyes. ‘I must have dozed.’
‘Just a little.’ There was something intimate about the way he said it, and Aurelie imagined him watching her sleep. Had she rested her head on his shoulder? Had she drooled? More blushing.
‘So where is here exactly?’
‘Well, nowhere, really.’ Luke slid out of the Jeep and reached for their basket. ‘But we can follow a path through the jungle to the Tuwasan Falls. It’s about a mile.’
‘A mile in the jungle?’ She glanced down at her leather sandals dubiously. ‘You should have told me we were enacting Survivor.’
He made a face. ‘Sorry. But it’s mostly wooden walkways, so I think you’ll be okay.’
‘If you say so.’
She followed him away from the car park and onto exactly what he’d said—a wooden walkway on stilts over the dense jungle floor. Within just a few metres of going down the walkway she felt the air close around her, hot, humid and dense. Birds chirped and cicadas chirrupped—at least she thought they were cicadas—and she could feel the jungle like a living, breathing entity all around her. A bright green lizard scampered across the walkway, and in the distance some animal—Aurelie had no idea what—gave a lonely, mournful cry.
‘Wow.’ She stopped, her hands resting on the cane railings, her heart thumping. ‘This is … intense.’
Luke glanced back at her. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes, I guess I just thought, you know, first date, maybe a movie?’
He smiled wryly. ‘I know you think I’m boring, but Jeez. A movie? I think I can do better than that.’
‘I don’t think you’re boring.’
‘You think I’m the human equivalent of vanilla ice cream.’
She gazed at him, the railings slick under her palms. Her heart was still thumping. ‘I do,’ she admitted quietly, and it felt like the most honest thing she’d ever said. ‘Completely trustworthy.’
Luke’s eyes darkened and the moment spun out between them, a thread of silence that bound them together, and tighter still. ‘Don’t speak too soon,’ he finally said, and turned away from her to walk further down the path.
‘You mean you’re not?’
‘I mean you don’t trust me yet, and why should you? It’s something I have to earn.’
Despite the damp heat all around them her mouth felt dry. She swallowed. ‘And you want to earn it?’
He glanced back at her, and his eyes were darker than ever. ‘Yes.’
Her mind spun with this revelation. She wanted to tell him that he’d already earned it, that she trusted him now, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.
They didn’t talk for a little while after that, because the wooden walkway became decidedly rickety, and then it stopped altogether at the bank of a rushing stream.
Aurelie raised her eyebrows. ‘What now, Tarzan?’
‘We cross it.’
‘Did I mention my leather sandals?’
‘You might have.’
‘And?’
‘I didn’t think you were the type to care about shoes.’
She wasn’t. ‘No, but I’m the type to care about getting my big toe eaten by a giant barracuda.’
He laughed then, a great big rumbling laugh that had a silly grin spreading wide across her face. She liked the sound of his laughter. ‘I don’t think there are any giant barracudas.’
‘No?’