Running Wild

by Susan Andersen

  Because, while she could roughly pinpoint their location on the map, there wasn’t a single dot to designate a town anywhere in the vicinity of where she believed them to be. She hadn’t even seen a few huts huddled together recently, let alone a community sizable enough to be helpful if they needed car parts. It had been a good hour since she’d seen signs of any habitation at all.

  The best they could probably hope for was to stumble across a village that wasn’t large enough to be marked on the road map. “Maybe my idea to leave the Pan-American wasn’t such a hot one after all,” she said gloomily.

  “Let me take a look at the engine before you start to panic,” Finn advised, leaning down to pop the interior hood latch. The driver’s door creaked when he opened it to climb from the car.

  “Where do you get panic from a simple observation?” she coolly inquired of his retreating torso—the only thing she could see from this angle. “I don’t frighten that easily.” And if I say it loud enough I may even come to believe it.

  But, damn him, hadn’t he neatly hamstrung her? She understood her stupid pride was her problem and not his. But she also knew that if she were choking on so much panic it threatened to wring every last breath from her body, she’d likely allow it to do precisely that before she’d let him see she was drowning in it.

  Her spine went rebar straight. Oh, for God’s sake, girl, buck up. Reassuring herself his advice was sound, that panicking before they even knew what the problem was wasn’t a productive use of her time, she, too, got out of the car.

  The midday heat promptly wrapped itself around her like a combination straitjacket/burial shroud. And the air was nowhere near as humid as it was going to get in the rain forest, but she reminded herself this would help her adapt. The cloud of gnats hanging in the area didn’t add to the comfort level, however, and she had to mouth breathe through her teeth to keep from inhaling them.

  But, hey, no panicking here, Mr. I-wouldn’t-lose-control-if-my-big-balls-of-steel-were-caught-in-a-flaming-vise. “Huh,” she muttered under her breath, momentarily entertained by the visual. “Bet you would.”

  “You sure talk to yourself a lot,” he said from under the hood he’d raised.

  And you have the hearing of a barn owl, so I guess we’re a match made in Nirvana. She bit back the urge to say it aloud and contented herself by observing, in an even tone, “Well, if a girl wants to have a decent conversation...”

  She walked around to peek at the engine as if she actually had an inkling what anything under the hood was. Okay, she recognized the radiator since she’d just seen it yesterday. But that was about it. “Can you tell what the trouble is?”

  “Going by the way we got a surge of power when I jumped on the gas, only to have it cough and cut out immediately after, I figure it has to be fuel-related. So I’m checking out the—”

  His voice trailed away and she was debating whether it was worth asking him what he was checking out when he abruptly said, “An-n-nd, here’s our problem.”

  She leaned over him. “What is it?”

  He craned his head around and she suddenly found their faces so close together, they were practically kissing. She pulled back a little.

  Finn’s mouth tipped into a slight smile before he turned his attention back to the engine compartment. “See this?” he demanded and she looked over his shoulder to where he’d thrust one long finger, indicating...something or another. Then she saw the tube thingy he pointed out and nodded.

  “This is the fuel line and it’s loose.”

  “Oh, goody. Tighten it up.”

  “That might be easier said than done. My pliers are back in Seattle in my toolbox.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped. “Can’t you use some more of that silicone tape stuff?”

  “No, darlin’. It’s not a split in the tubing, it’s a loose connection that’s allowing air in the line. But before you start to—”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You do not want to say panic again,” she instructed clearly. “Not if you know what’s good for you.”

  His teeth flashed white. “All righty, then.” He turned back to check out some more crap under the hood.

  She stepped away. “I’m guessing this might take a while, so I’ll go slap together some sandwiches from the groceries we bought.”

  “Sounds great.” He straightened from the hood and headed around to the trunk. “Here, I’ll set this in the front of the trunk so you can get to it,” he said and she looked over to see him hauling forward the little cooler they’d bought in one of the bigger stores in San Vito.

  Finn dived back into the trunk and she could hear him rummaging through it as she carried the cooler over to a downed tree that had a length of reasonably flat surface. She got out a package of tortillas, a container of pulled pork, a jar of salsa and the little container of marinated julienned veggies she’d scored in a bodega down the street from the store where they’d found the cooler. She had all the makings for lunch, but nothing to put it on.

  She glanced over at Finn. “Is it okay if I look through your backpack for something to use as plates?”

  “Help yourself.” Making a sound of satisfaction he backed away from the trunk with an incredibly rusty pair of pliers in his hand and headed back to the front end of the car.

  He’d left the trunk open and she walked over to grab his bag. She opened it up and moved aside some clothing, the fuel bottle and—whoa—a good-sized baggie full of condoms before she located a melamine plate. Knowing that he’d packed for one she figured they could share the latter, but as she was trying to put everything back the way she’d found it, she knocked the lid askew from the largest pot of his nesting pans. She had it half back on the set when she realized it was probably intended to double as a fry pan.

  And that there was no reason it couldn’t triple as a plate. “Score!” she whispered.

  “Heard that.”

  She leaned around the edge of the car to look up its length at him. He stood on the same side, bent so far into the engine compartment that he was mainly a muscular profile of lower torso, long legs and that really nice butt as he did whatever it was he was doing to the fuel line. “Of course you did.”

  She returned to her rudimentary tree-trunk kitchen and slapped together tortilla wraps for both of them. She plated them, then remembered the mangos she’d bought yesterday and sliced one up, arranging the segments next to the wraps. Then she glanced back at Finn again. “Lunch is ready whenever you are. You want one of your beers?”

  “God, yeah.” His voice was fervent. “I’m just about done here.”

  She took their plates over to a stand of trees. After checking the branches overhead to make sure no snakes or nasty oversize insects were going to drop on her head and give her heart failure, she set the plates on the ground and went back for her drink. A moment later she sat on the ground in the shade of a tree and found a level patch of ground where she could set her can of soda. She picked up the pan-lid plate and rested it in her lap. Then, leaning back against the tree trunk, she used both hands to scoop up her tortilla. She inhaled its aroma for a moment, then took a bite.

  A multitude of flavors exploded in her mouth and she moaned in ecstasy.

  Across the way Finn swore in a low voice.

  “I heard that,” she said and grinned, tickled with the opportunity to give him a little of his own medicine. But then she considered the way he was giving up his vacation for her and the fact that he was probably parboiling in his own sweat by now and added with more graciousness, “Come and have something to eat. I guarantee you’ll feel better for it.”

  “Yeah, I’m a-l-l-most there. Yes! Here we go.” He unfurled from his bent posture over the fender and stretched to his full height. Digging his fists into the small of his back, he arched over them to get the kinks out. “I’m done. I didn’t even get my hands that dirty.”

  “Good. Grab your beer out of the cooler and come have your lunch.”

  He dropped down next to he
r a moment later and raised his beer bottle to his lips. He chugged down a quarter of it in one long swallow before coming up for air. “Damn,” he muttered, looking at the bottle in his hand. “I probably should’ve drank some water to slake my thirst before I opened the beer.”

  “No, you know what?” she said. “Screw it. It’s been a hellacious two days that feels more like a hellacious two weeks. So if you kill off your beer too soon, drink another. You earned it and I can drive the next leg.”

  He butted his shoulder against hers and his was hot, damp and solid. It was also there and gone between one moment and the next as he reached for his plate. He picked the tortilla wrap up and took a huge bite. “Omigawd,” he muttered with a full mouth.

  “I know,” she agreed. “Freaking hits the spot, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Wait until you taste the ajiaco,” she said. She had been so psyched to find the rich chicken-and-potato stew she remembered fondly from childhood. “I thought we could heat that up for dinner tonight.”

  “Sounds good. Where’d you get the mango?” He ate the remaining slices on his plate.

  “I bought a couple outside the cantina yesterday, but with everything that went on after that I forgot all about them.”

  He took another big bite of his wrap, but after he’d chewed and swallowed it, he positioned himself to look over at her without having to twist his head around at an unsustainable angle. “About the car,” he said slowly.

  “Oh, no! You didn’t get it going?”

  “No, I’m sure it will hold. But I had to reassess my assessment from yesterday. I wasn’t kidding when I told you it’s in remarkable shape for its age. But I have a bad feeling that it’s reached the stage where all kinds of little shit starts going wrong. If I had my toolbox and we were in a city where we could find replacement parts, that wouldn’t be a problem. But in the middle of goddamn nowhere?”

  “Problem,” she said glumly.

  “Yeah. ’Fraid so.”

  “You think we should get back on the Pan-American?”

  “You’re the one who’s been studying the map. How far do you estimate it is to a city of decent size, supposing such a thing even exists on this road?”

  “If the legend is accurate, it looks like there’s a...well, not a city, exactly. But quite possibly a good-sized town in maybe sixty, seventy miles.”

  “Okay, then.” He gave her a brisk nod. “If it were me I’d probably risk betting on there being a place where we can turn this heap in for something newer and more reliable. But you’re the one responsible for the rental. So, what do you think?”

  “That you probably have a better grasp on this kind of thing than I do.” She shrugged, because she really didn’t have a clue what was the best thing to do. “It’s all a crapshoot,” she admitted. “So let’s go with your idea. At least you have one—it’s more than I do.”

  He gave her a slight smile, popped the last bite in his mouth, chewed it up and swallowed it down. Then he killed off the remainder of his beer and rolled easily to his feet. “Let me start up the car and see how she sounds. Then if your offer is still good, I will take you up on the driving thing and grab myself another brew. Because, you’re right. The last however many hours feel more like a couple of weeks.”

  They took off a few minutes later. Slumped in the passenger seat next to her, Finn finished his second beer before they were five miles down the road. Seconds after tucking the bottle out of the way, he was asleep.

  It didn’t take long for the silence to grate on Mags’s nerves. With no love of spending time by herself, she’d made a habit of surrounding herself with people.

  But she tried to be smart about it. She’d figured out a long time ago that it wasn’t wise to fully open herself up to anyone. Relationships didn’t last and she’d discovered the hard way that the instant she forgot that and tried to know someone on a deeper level, they were more likely than not to disappear on her.

  If that meant she had more acquaintances than actual friends...well, that was okay. It was preferable, actually. She could talk to just about anyone, and no matter how superficial the connection, she possessed a genuine talent for making people feel like they were good friends for whatever space of time they spent together.

  Yet here she was, captive in a soundless bubble, her only company dead to the world. And she’d admit it—that scratched at her last good nerve.

  By the time Finn finally stirred over in his corner, she was downright antsy. Generally she excelled at finessing a conversation. Around Finn, however, that skill seemed to slip-slide away with frightening ease.

  Now was no exception. She barely allowed the poor guy to stretch and blink the sleep from his eyes before she demanded, “So, why are you on vacation all by yourself?”

  “Huh?” He turned his head to look at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

  “Aren’t hikers supposed to do the buddy-system thing? It seems dangerous to be in the wild in a foreign country all by yourself.” And why the hell would anyone choose to be alone anyway?

  “It’s kind of a moot point, don’t you think?” he said, giving her a level look out of dark eyes that had grown considerably more alert. “Since as it turns out I’m not in the wild.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so, but I’m curious.”

  “My plans with another hiker fell through.”

  Several beats went by as she waited for him to continue. Apparently, however, he’d said everything he planned to. Men were such a different species when it came to conversation. Would offering a few details kill them? “Why? What happened?”

  He exhaled a gusty put-upon breath. But he said, “My brother Bren and I had this trip in the works for two years, then early last year he was diagnosed with cancer.”

  Her heart clutched. “Omigawd, Finn, I am so sorry. I hope he beat it.”

  “Yeah, he’s now cancer-free. But his oncologist wasn’t overjoyed with the idea of him taking an arduous hike in a country where neither of us speaks the language particularly well and the medical care isn’t always all it should be. His doc was a pussycat, though, compared to Bren’s wife, Jody. Bren fought the good fight but Jody went through a lot, too, when he was so sick, so he finally had to throw in the towel. By then it was too late to find anyone else to go.” He shrugged. “I didn’t particularly mind. I was looking forward to some time to myself.”

  Which, of course, her situation had totally screwed up. Still, she asked, “Why? Do you have a marriage or long-time relationship that’s going south on you?”

  His laugh was short and unamused. “No.”

  She waited for him to elaborate and when he didn’t, she sighed. “You’re not a real big communicator, are ya?”

  He had the nerve to look insulted. “I’m an excellent communicator when there’s something worth communicating about. This touchy-feely shit isn’t.”

  “C’mon!” Reaching across the seat, she poked a finger in his side and merely gave him a little smile when he snapped tough-skinned fingers around her wrist and delivered her hand back to the steering wheel. “Are you pining for an unrequited love?”

  “Jesus.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “I’ll take that as a no. So, you’re not married, not involved and not carrying a torch. What had you so hot for some alone time, then?”

  “You aren’t gonna let this go, are you?”

  She shot him a cheerful smile and discovered to her surprise that something about the conversation actually made her feel that way. “Nope.”

  “Fine. It’s my family.” He must have seen her knee-jerk protest forming, because he added flatly, “I know, I know, you think a big family is more romantic than chocolates and roses on Valentine’s Day. But as someone who actually lives in one, I’m here to tell you there are times when the lack of privacy is enough to drive a guy to drink. There’s just no getting away from everyone. I work with my three brothers in the family construction business all day long—although, given we’re all men, th
at’s not so bad.”

  “Because you can scratch and spit and beat your hairy chests in male solidarity?”

  His mouth quirked up. “Or at least speak the same language. My aunts and grandmas and even one of my sisters-in-law and a few girl cousins who damn well oughta know better, on the other hand, want to see me settled. Apparently something happens to the Kavanagh females once they get married. They morph from fun chicks into nags who believe the entire world needs to march by twos, man-woman, man-woman.”

  “No man-man, woman-woman allowed?”

  He laughed. “I honest to God think they’d be okay with that. What they can’t stand is that I never bring anyone to the family events.”

  “Why not? Don’t you date?”

  “I date plenty. No—more than plenty. I date a lot.”

  “Omigawd,” she breathed, suddenly flashing back to the memory of that I’d-do-ya-baby look he’d given her in the cantina yesterday. Her brain hit a patch of black ice and spun a fast three-sixty through a decade’s worth of mental images from the myriad nightspots she’d frequented over the years. Slightly dizzied by the impressions whirling through her head faster than the sound of light, she eased her foot off the gas pedal, steered the car to a stop on the side of the road and shut it down. “Oh. My. God.”

  She turned to stare at Finn, a strangled laugh threatening to blow her windpipe apart. “You’re one of those guys.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Why’d you stop? What guys?”

  “The ones you see cutting a different woman out of the herd every night of the week in every club in every city in the world.” Good God, Mags, hyperbole much? But she shook her head because she knew—she just knew—she was right about this. “Men who are charming and fun, but most of all dedicated to getting laid and staying single. You know who I’m talking about, Kavanagh.