The Hitchhiker in Panama (Love and Wanderlust Book 1)

by Liz Alden

  I made the rabbit run its lap a few times until I got the hang of it.

  “Here’s how you can tell if you’ve done the knot right.” She held the line in front of her hips, the loop dangling down on her thighs. The end of the line stuck straight out of the knot, pointing towards me. “It’s a boy knot.”

  I burst out laughing, and Poppy grinned at me. I practiced a few more times, and then she showed me how to tie the knot with one hand behind my back. Poppy and Fred were avid divers, and she said knowing how to tie the bowline with your eyes closed and one hand behind your back might save a life.

  We fumbled and laughed, and I never quite got the bowline right with one hand behind my back, but I practiced the regular way more and felt proficient enough. After wandering back into the cockpit, we refreshed our drinks and found Fred and Eivind in the main salon, Eivind strumming a guitar.

  When I walked in, Eivind looked up at me and gave me a soft smile. He strummed quiet and low, chatting with Fred as his hands worked.

  I took a moment to admire the sight—and of course, he caught me doing so—before I slipped back out into the cockpit.

  Poppy, the perfect hostess, brought out nibbles and topped up drinks. My day in the sun was catching up to me, and I yawned with more and more frequency. Marcella asked if I wanted to join them for dinner, and I declined, opting to call the multitude of Poppy’s cheese and crackers I’d eaten a meal.

  I made my goodbyes, and Eivind appeared by my side.

  “Let me walk you back home,” he said, looping an arm over my shoulder. We ambled down the dock. “Did you have a good day today?”

  “I did. I almost got sucked into another boat project with Peter, but Edith came to my rescue.” I grinned at him sideways.

  “Boat projects are not fun.”

  “Not fun at all. I’ve only done one, but it was oily.” I wrinkled my nose. “And a little smelly. And really hot and sticky.”

  He laughed. “So, we cannot expect you to help with the bilge?”

  “You’d have to make it worth my time.”

  “Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow.

  I nodded and yawned yet again.

  “The free-diving lessons wore you out,” Eivind said.

  “Yes, I think so. I’ll sleep well tonight. Hey, did you hear on the radio about the open mic night tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I did. That is what Fred and I were talking about.”

  “Are you going to borrow his guitar?”

  Eivind chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe I will play my ukulele. One way or another, do not worry.” He leaned into my ear. “I will seduce you.”

  I blushed and we laughed together, walking up to Silver Lining. Peter and Edith were sitting in the cockpit and Eivind waved a hand in greeting.

  “Thanks for walking me home,” I said, grinning.

  “You are welcome.” Eivind’s hands rested on my hips and gave a gentle squeeze. “I will see you tomorrow.” He kissed my cheek and, with a nod to our audience, walked back the way we’d come.

  I climbed on board and collapsed into the corner of the cockpit.

  Edith chortled. “Looks like you’ve had a fun day, my dear. Tell us all about it!”

  Nine

  I opened the doors of the restaurant which was packed for open mic night. Some of the long-term marina residents, many of whom I’d met, were already up on stage. Guitars were being tuned, and musical instruments had been stacked up against the wall: guitar cases and a saxophone stand. A woman stood nearby with a bagpipe.

  I spotted the crew of Eik in the corner and waved, but I made my way to the bar first. I found one of the last free stools and sat before ordering my beer.

  A throat cleared into the microphone, and Donny, a Scottish sailor two slips down from Silver Lining who’d been here nearly as long as Edith and Peter, stood at the mic, holding a guitar.

  “Testing, testing . . . all right, everyone! Welcome to open mic night at the marina. We have a few new faces and instruments this week, and some of our regulars are here. If you want to take the next song, grab your instrument and come on up to the side here, and I’ll turn it over when I’m done. We’ve got Randy here on drums, and there are a few miscellaneous instruments anyone can grab on the stand over here. So if you feel like shaking a tambourine, well, then by God come shake a tambourine. Now, I’m gonna start us off with a little classic Jimmy Buffett.”

  He strummed the guitar, playing the first bar of a song that sounded familiar, but I couldn’t name it. I was too young to fully appreciate Jimmy Buffett, but Randy kicked in behind him, and Donny’s wife, Rae, grabbed a shaker from the side of the stage.

  I sipped my beer and watched as Donny played a few songs, warming the crowd up. Another cruiser took his place to play a few rounds of American country music. By now a few people were on the dance floor, an American couple I knew doing a two-step and a few others swaying to the music.

  I exchanged greetings with the couple who sat down next to me, vaguely familiar, and when I turned back to the stage, my eyebrows rose. Eivind sat in the wings, waiting for the next song. He held a ukulele in one hand and a stool in the other.

  After the final bars of a Garth Brooks song, the guitarist bowed and stepped down off the stage, letting Eivind take a turn.

  “Hallo, everyone,” he said into the microphone as he set the stool down. “I am Eivind, from Eik. My friends gave me this ukulele”—he held it up—“when I moved onto the boat, as a joke. But who is laughing now?” There were a few light chuckles in the audience as Eivind strummed and tuned. “I play guitar, but this is my first performance with this beauty, so be gentle.” Eivind grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile at him. His eyes found mine.

  Suddenly his hand flew over the strings as he played a fast and furious rhythm. Just a few notes in, he started to sing; it was “I Wanna Be Your Man” by the Beatles.

  Eivind’s eyes left mine to look down at his fingers, and I could breathe again. His voice carried, grittier than the original, but the tone was the same, hopeful and desperate all at the same time.

  We hooted and cheered for him as he smiled and strummed. Randy backed him up with a lot of cymbals, and the energy climbed palpably. Dancers spun to the upbeat tempo.

  As the song finished, the audience broke into applause.

  “Thank you,” Eivind said. “There’s no one up here yet, so I think you are stuck with me for another.”

  A loud cheer came up, especially from behind me, where the rest of the crew of Eik sat.

  This time, Eivind plucked the melody out first, a few quick notes on the strings and a few chords, and he started into the lyrics of “Hello, I Love You” by the Doors.

  For the next song, Eivind slowed down and the couples on the dance floor held each other close. Another guitarist stood by waiting, so Eivind wrapped up and took a bow, leaving the stage to rambunctious applause.

  The next singer started out with more classics, James Taylor, I think. I finished my beer and turned to flag the bartender down when a body came up behind me.

  “Dance with me.”

  Eivind stood close to me, his breath warm on my cheek. I turned and he reached out a hand, which I grabbed and used to hop off my barstool. Eivind weaved around tables and people to lead us out to the dance floor. It was crowded, dancers and conversation filling the room, but I only had eyes for Eivind. He glanced back once, and my stomach flipped. This was not the Eivind I was used to, the carefree, flirty Eivind.

  This Eivind needed me.

  He swapped hands with me behind his back and then pulled me in close. I put an arm over his shoulders and we swayed to the music. My nose came to Eivind’s collarbone, and I closed my eyes and inhaled, savoring the way he smelled, his usual scent edged with something a little rougher: sweat and heat.

  Eivind’s sense of rhythm worked just as well on the dance floor as it did onstage. We swayed together, keeping our bodies close, our heartbeats matching.

  The song wound down, and the singer s
poke into the microphone. Eivind and I reluctantly broke apart and turned to the stage. “We have a special duet we’re going to play tonight. You all know and love Greta’s bagpipes, so we’re going to strike it up with a classic.”

  The guitarist fingered a melody and the drums joined in with a strong and steady beat. When he shifted to strumming, Greta came in with her bagpipes. Everyone cheered and the crowd knew what to do.

  “Oooh, what will we do with a drunken sailor?” the guitarist called into the mic. He pulled back and the audience responded.

  “What will we do with a drunken sailor?”

  The dance floor became a whirlwind. Eivind led, spinning me, and with everyone else we galloped around, laughing and carrying on like the drunken sailors we were.

  I laughed when they sang the rest of the verses. Everyone knew the question, but the answer was more obscure: put him in bed with the captain’s daughter, who was, apparently, not attractive.

  Eivind and I spun around the dance floor with the masses. After the song finished, we moved back to the table with the rest of the Eik crew. One drink became more. Eivind ordered shots. I danced with Marcella and Elayna when a guitarist played some pop covers, and then Elayna struggled to drag Jonas onto the dance floor, only succeeding to coax him out for a slow song.

  My hair escaped its confines, and Eivind couldn’t stop touching it, his fingers twirling at the nape of my neck.

  Time flew, and the musicians tired. Eventually the music switched to piped-in radio, and the atmosphere got quieter. We were closing down the place.

  Ten

  As we walked back to the boats, Eivind and I trailed behind the other three. I was delightfully buzzed and happy.

  “I know this sounds insane,” I said, “but I want to go into the jungle.”

  Eivind laughed, his arm around my neck and his fingers intertwined with mine. “Yes, insane. Why do you want to go into the jungle?”

  “I want to see the darkness of it. Like, it’s such a raw, natural place, and if you go in there, the darkness will just be . . .” I trailed off, not knowing how to finish my thought.

  “Hmm . . .” Eivind kissed my forehead. “I’ll take you into the dark.”

  “What? Really? Don’t you think it’ll be dangerous?”

  “What is dangerous here? Anything we come across will hear and see us first. It will run. And we won’t go deep. Stay here, okay? I will be right back.”

  “Okay. Right here.” I pointed at the dock below my feet.

  Eivind’s eyes crinkled in amusement as he turned and retreated down the dock. I gazed up at the sky, looking for a few constellations I might know, everything so new to me here in the northern hemisphere.

  Eivind was back quickly and he handed me a strap of some kind.

  “Here, put this on.”

  I peered at it in the dark: it was a headlamp, the kind someone might wear for spelunking. Eivind pulled his headlamp on and I did the same. He reached over to click the button on mine, and his face lit up in a red glow.

  “It’s red so you can see better at night. Now, let’s go find this darkness of yours.”

  Eivind looped his arm back around me and we walked out toward the road. “You use these headlamps on the boat?”

  “Yes, we use red light most of the time, because your eyes do not have to adjust from red to dark. But they adjust from white to dark, right, and it is hard to see sometimes. This is better.”

  “That makes sense,” I said.

  “Did you not camp when you were a child?”

  “We did, but we used white flashlights and were always camping in campgrounds and not out in the wilderness. Besides, you have to drive far from Sydney to find dark skies away from the lights of the city.”

  “You never went to the Outback?” Eivind asked.

  It took me a moment to respond; my eyes were glued to my feet, making sure the headlamp lit up my path. “No, it was always too far away, too expensive. By the time maybe we could afford it, I was a teenager and too cool to want to go vacationing with my parents.” I sighed and dramatically leaned my head against Eivind’s shoulder. “Maybe someday. I bet you have some amazing dark nights at sea!”

  “Yes, we do. Okay, stop here.”

  I looked around. We were far enough into the jungle that the foliage blocked the lights from the marina. Eivind took his headlamp off, and I took mine off too. We faced each other, and Eivind pointed the beam of his light right between us; my headlamp dangled from my hand. He grinned, looking wicked in the red light and shadows.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready!”

  We both clicked our headlamps off at the same time. I could barely see a thing, the inky blackness of the jungle surrounding me. I reached a hand out into the darkness.

  “Right here.” Eivind stepped closer, and my palm rested on his chest. We stayed still as our eyes adjusted. There were sounds all around me: insects talking into the night, the occasional far-off call of a bird, Eivind’s breathing and my own. I could barely make out the path stretching ahead and behind us, and the sky full of stars overhead was hidden by the giant leaves of the jungle, a negative space of shadows. Here, without the heat and noise of the crowds, I breathed more deeply, inhaling the woodsy smell.

  Eivind took another step toward me and his hand came up to my waist. We were so close, and his thumb slipping between the waistband of my shorts and the hem of my T-shirt electrified me. I’d heard that when you were deprived of one of your senses, the others became heightened.

  So what would it feel like to kiss Eivind in the dark?

  His nose touched mine, his lips a breath away from my own.

  “Don’t kiss me,” I whispered.

  Eivind stopped and swallowed thickly. “Why not?”

  “If we kiss, you’ll kick me off the boat.”

  “What?” Eivind took a small step back.

  “I mean . . .” Ugh. How could I explain it? The alcohol made my mind stutter. “I don’t want to join the boat with some drama or baggage already. Like, this is the whole reason I came to Panama, and if this doesn’t work out, I’ve risked a lot of money for nothing.”

  “It will not be drama.” He smoothed some of my hair back behind my ears. “A kiss doesn’t have to mean drama.”

  I poked his stomach, then let my hands linger. Distraction! “Come on, Eivind. You know sleeping together always comes with some form of drama or another.”

  “Sleeping together? I thought we were just kissing,” he teased as he grabbed my hand.

  I felt myself blush, invisible in the darkness, and pulled my hand away. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I know. And you are right: we do not really need more drama.”

  “Wait, what? More drama?”

  “Oh.” Eivind winced. “Well . . . Jonas and Elayna . . . sometimes . . .”

  “Mm-hmm. See, more drama!” I poked his stomach again and controlled myself enough this time not to feel him up.

  He laughed. “All right, all right, I will not kiss you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That may be the first time I have ever been thanked for not kissing.” He tugged me to his side and pointed us back in the direction of the marina. “Now, let’s take this non-kissing girl to bed so she can sleep!”

  Eleven

  The next morning, I was nestled into my cabin on Silver Lining when a voice that didn’t belong to Edith or Peter came from the salon. Propped up with pillows, I sat reclined against the slanted wall of my cabin, reading. A few moments passed before someone knocked on my door.

  “Come in,” I called.

  The door opened, and Eivind’s head poked into my cabin. “Hallo.” He grinned at me.

  “Hey,” I said. “Welcome to my humble abode.” I gestured my arms wide to take in the room.

  Eivind chuckled, stepped in, and closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of my bed and swung his bare feet up so he sat across from me, leaning on the other side. I grabbed another pillow and to
ssed it to him.

  “Thank you.” He supported his back and rested his hand on my feet, which were crossed at the ankles. Eivind’s legs were too long, and he had to bend his knees, pressing his toes into the wall next to me.

  “What’s up on Eik today?”

  Eivind stroked my anklebone with his thumb. “We are joining the morning group for a walk in the jungle. Come with us?”

  “Sounds great. I’ve been meaning to do that, but Edith likes her mornings slow and she’s been a bad influence.” I checked my watch. We had fifteen minutes to get to the meeting point.

  I put my e-reader aside and nudged Eivind’s feet. He pulled his legs up so I could climb out of my bunk and sort through my clothing options. I wore gym shorts and a loose tank top with no bra, but I had a clean sports bra and a T-shirt to change into. I dug for a little while, looking for a clean pair of socks. Living on the boat meant I was constantly running around barefoot or in thongs; my socks had migrated down to the bottom of my bag.

  When I turned around, Eivind had slid down, lying on his back in my bed with his legs up against the wall.

  “I have to change.”

  Eivind turned his head to face the corner. “I will not look.”

  I peeked around and his eyes were closed too. Just to be sure, I grabbed one of the pillows and put it on his head. He chuckled and pressed the pillow into his face.

  Swiftly, I stripped my top off and changed. When I was done, I patted Eivind’s stomach and he jolted, the muscles flexing under my hand. He let out what sounded like a swear word in Norwegian and then raised the pillow to look at me.

  I grinned. “Did I startle you?” I started to pull my hand away, but Eivind grabbed it, pressing my palm to his shirt. He gripped my arm with his other hand and pulled me, flipping me over his body to lie on his other side.

  “What are you doing? I’m ready—let’s go find your crew.” I poked his side.

  He twitched but closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax on my bed. “This bed is rock hard. How are you sleeping here? Is this mattress concrete?” Then he opened his eyes and started pulling at the sheets, trying to investigate.