by Ava Miles
Gosh. Where to start? You’re a jerk. I can’t believe you went to Con. My DAD? Did you eat some bad mushrooms in the lab? I hope Dad buries you. I’ll happily dance on your grave.
That made him laugh.
In a red dress? You’re a knockout in red. Are you coming to save me from the parental unit? Your mother might be up to bat after your dad finishes.
Assumpta Merriam was a wonderful woman—until crossed—and he imagined Michaela had spun a good story putting their breakup squarely on his shoulders.
My mother wouldn’t expend the effort to dig you a grave. She’d simply pour lighter fluid on your worthless carcass and set you on fire. Or…leave you for the vultures.
Michaela was magnificent.
Being apart from her was the worst punishment he’d ever endured—even worse than his dad leaving when he was ten. Thank God she was the same plain-speaking, sometimes scary woman he loved like crazy. He’d been a goner ever since the day he walked into the lab to see her rip open the fang-like maw of a Venus flytrap to rescue three tree frogs. The poor little devils had escaped their terrarium only to be lured in by one of the world’s creepiest plants. Her mind had fascinated him as much as her physical directness in the beginning, which he’d come to learn was from being the youngest sister in a family of equally direct and physical men, especially her brother, Trevor.
He arrived a few minutes early at her parents’ house. For an October evening, the temperature was still in the upper eighties. The vines would appreciate the heat. The two-story Spanish-style home was decorated with clay planters resplendent with bougainvillea and jasmine, and the fig trees under the awning were flush with green and purple fruit. He remembered plucking a fig once and feeding it to Michaela. Another time, he’d tucked a purple bougainvillea flower behind her ear.
He wanted those times back, dammit.
He knocked on the massive double doors, resisting the urge to tug on the navy jacket he’d thrown over his T-shirt and jeans.
“Thanks for coming, Boyd,” Shawn said the moment he opened the door.
Boyd extended his hand, and the man took it. “I didn’t think it wise to refuse,” he said honestly.
Shawn gave a wry smile. “You could have, of course, but you’re right. It would have made a statement. Asking you here is part of me turning over a new leaf as a father.”
Boyd had to wonder what he meant by that, but he expected Shawn would tell him in good time.
“Come in. We’ll have a drink and talk about this upcoming trip. If Connor agreed, you must have made one hell of a pitch.”
Word traveled fast in the Merriam family. Boyd entered the rich, open space. He’d always loved this house, as much for its bold textures and colors as the sweeping vistas. Michaela had grown up here, and on some level, she didn’t understand this wasn’t the norm for most people. Even though she didn’t come off as a rich girl, her family’s fortune had always provided certain comforts and an unassailable safety net. They’d made their mark—just like growing up in a bad neighborhood in Oakland had shaped him. Michaela had never understood why being financially independent mattered to him, or why he might not want to cash a Merriam paycheck for the rest of his life. To him, he might as well have printed “kept man” on his business card alongside his formal title. Iggie and other employees had only made it worse by calling him MBT when she wasn’t around: Michaela’s Boy Toy. In his old neighborhood, he would have handled such an insult with a good punch to the face. But the business world had different rules. After attempting to turn the tide, he’d ultimately given in to the inevitable. The only way he would be taken seriously as a scientist was to work somewhere else.
“Wine or something stronger?” Shawn asked, leading him into the living room and crossing to the Art Deco bar caddy in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“After today?” He knew honesty was the only way to play it. “Whiskey.”
“Perfect.” Shawn uncapped a thirty-year-old bottle of single malt and poured a healthy measure into two Waterford crystal tumblers.
Boyd took one of the tumblers from him and lifted it. “To the most wonderful woman in the world, your daughter.”
Shawn’s mouth curled into a smile before he drank from his own glass. “I thought your move today indicated a new press for my daughter’s affections.”
He followed the man through the open French doors to the farm table under the portico. As they sat across from each other, Boyd couldn’t help but think of the other times he’d sat at this very table. They’d shared family dinners here, Boyd holding Michaela’s hand under the table, but the only thing that felt the same was the bougainvillea in bright reds and pinks wrapped around the large timbers overhead, shading them from the rays of sunshine illuminating the lush green lawn.
“I need to know, Shawn… Did you keep your word to me?”
The older man took his measure for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I won’t let myself be insulted,” he said at last, “but I must admit I’m puzzled why you asked me to keep it quiet. Wouldn’t it have helped your case if Michaela knew you’d asked me for her hand in marriage right before she broke things off?”
Boyd snorted. “No, I knew it wouldn’t help. When I took that job with Hendricks… She wouldn’t listen to reason. She thought I’d betrayed her and your company.” And she might very well have kicked him in the balls for thinking he needed to ask her father. He’d only done it as a courtesy.
“Not my company anymore,” Shawn said. “I’m trying to focus on being a better father. Seems I’ll have the chance to help Michaela after what I heard today.”
Boyd almost choked on his ice. “How soon did Michaela call Assumpta?”
“The moment she left Connor’s office,” Shawn said, kicking back in his chair. “She blew hot, like she does. Then she said something that gave me and Assumpta pause. That’s why you’re here, Boyd.”
He took a drink to steady himself. “Just lay it out, Shawn.”
“She said she was scared to go.” Shawn sipped his whiskey, making a show of acting casual. “You know Michaela isn’t afraid of anything.”
The words reached into his chest and gripped his already aching heart. No, Mickey didn’t quail at much, but there was one thing she did fear. “Truthfully, Shawn, Mickey and I are both afraid of our feelings for each other. It’s why we circled each other like two wary cats for so long before we even started dating. And it’s why she went off her rocker when I took that job—sorry, but she did—and why I nursed some seriously injured feelings and hurt pride for four months before I came up with a plan to win her back.”
Shawn set his drink down and put his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly as if they were in a huddle. “So, this trip is what I thought.”
“Shawn, I’m carrying around an engagement ring in my pocket this very minute.” He’d used his signing bonus from Hendricks to buy the ring. Michaela was the largest ball of fire he’d ever come across, and he’d wanted a stone to represent her power and passion. Still, the stone looked too small to his eyes. If all went well, he’d be able to afford something better once they found the Valley of Stars. And he could finally buy his mother a house in a safer neighborhood.
“I don’t need to tell you that you have your hands full, Boyd. You know that. But I’m willing to give you a boon.”
A boon? From Shawn Merriam, the ultimate Big Bad Wolf? Retirement really must change a person. And people said miracles didn’t happen anymore. “I’d be grateful.”
“My sister, Clara, is coming along—at my son’s wise discretion.”
He fought a rude noise. Connor could have insisted that they bring a team of trapeze artists, and Boyd would have agreed. Nothing was going to stop him from finding the Valley of Stars and winning Michaela back. But three senior citizens… Even if the uncle wrote another Pulitzer Prize-winning story about the experience, Boyd still wasn’t sure bringing them was a good idea. Don’t even get him started on Iggie.
“I’m
going to tell Clara I believe you have good intentions toward Michaela. My sister has a certain tendency toward matchmaking, although I’ll encourage her to be discreet, of course. If Michaela thinks for one moment—”
“We’ll all rue the day,” he said, laughing.
“Shawn,” Boyd heard Assumpta call from the French doors.
They both looked over, and she raised a hand, both a greeting and a warning. Boyd made sure to smile over the quiver in his belly.
“Michaela just drove up. You’ll want to wrap up your talk. Boyd, I hope you won’t think it rude that I don’t invite you to supper. Until I’m sure of your intentions with my daughter, I’m afraid you aren’t safe around me with a paring knife.”
His smile felt a little more genuine, despite the threat. God help him, it was the kind of thing Michaela would say.
Shawn’s shoulders shook from repressed laughter as his wife pivoted, walking out of sight. “God, I love that woman. I swear, the moment I saw her, I was done. My tongue seemed to swell in my mouth. I couldn’t put together two words. Her dad fortunately liked me, which is why he’d invited me over for supper in the first place. Noah never admitted it, but I think he hoped we’d like each other. He often said one of the happiest days of his life was our wedding day.” Shawn stood and clapped Boyd on the back. “I hope I can say that about you and Michaela someday. Have a good trip.”
He watched as the man walked back into the house. Animated sounds came from the family room. Michaela was having a moment. Boyd took another sip of his whiskey, bracing himself for their first private encounter since the breakup. He needed to be at the top of his game. But there was no preparing for the angry volcanic goddess who stormed out of the French doors, her hair trailing around her like the parabolic storm about to erupt. All the spit dried up in his mouth, and he was consumed with the crazy urge to take her into his arms and kiss her.
“You’re alive!”
He downed his whiskey and stood up, reaching for control. “Yes. But I took the precaution of wearing a cup, just in case. Wanna see?”
She thundered across the flagstones to him. To his surprise, she came close enough to touch him, and then she trailed her fingers down the lapel of his jacket. “Oh, you know me so well. I never could resist you, Boyd.”
The words were music to his ears, but something about the way she said it told him he was in for it—so he wasn’t completely surprised when she rapped him on said cup. The thwack reverberated through his balls. “Ouch!”
“Of course I don’t want to see. I’ve been trying to forget everything about you since we broke up.”
“Ah… How sweet! You really know how to put a guy in his place.”
She chuckled darkly. “I was kind of hoping you were joking about the cup, but I love knowing you felt you had to wear one to visit me and my family. Better get used to wearing it.”
He couldn’t imagine the discomfort of wearing it long-term on their trip.
“Your dad seems to be finished with me,” he said, taking her in. She’d changed from her business threads into a dour brown cotton maxi dress he knew she’d selected to disguise the curves he’d always loved. Like it mattered. She could wear a trash bag and he’d still want to make love to her. Hear her sigh as he pressed deep. Cry out as he made her come.
God, it had been so long.
“I wish I were finished with you,” she said, her green eyes narrowing. “Boyd, you’re up to something, and I don’t like it.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm. It was the first time he’d touched her since that horrible day, and even though it was a simple touch, he savored the familiar feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. She clearly did as well because he heard her gasp before she glared at him. “Your mother threatened me with a paring knife. I don’t want to hang around here after that, but we still need to talk.”
“You have some explaining to do,” she said, yanking out of his hold. She stalked into and through the house. Neither of her parents emerged as she made a beeline for the front door, Boyd trailing behind her. “Dammit, Boyd! I told you we were done.”
“Seems we aren’t,” he said as they walked through the front door. “Come on. I brought my bike. I’ll take you to our favorite spot.”
“We don’t have a ‘favorite spot’ anymore,” she informed him, standing tall in the waning sunlight in the circular driveway punctuated by an honest-to-God fountain. Growing up, he’d been lucky if he could get the water to drain down his family’s rusted-out pipes.
“You can’t erase the past, Michaela.”
“Maybe not, but I had a burning ceremony with Caitlyn,” she said, her gaze steady. “I burned the past.”
Leave it to her to think a mere fire could erase what was between them. “Bullshit,” he said. “You can’t burn away what we had. But let’s leave that aside for now. Don’t you want to know more about how I found the Valley of Stars?”
“Sure, dangle the carrot.” She swatted the air dismissively. “I’m taking my car.”
Probably for the best, he thought. It would be torture to feel her pressed against him on the bike. “Fine.”
He stalked off to his used Honda bike. He couldn’t wait to buy a Triumph. It was another item on his bucket list, but he’d only get to it after he took care of the women in his life.
After putting on his helmet, he swung his leg over the bike, turned on the engine, and punched the gas. Zooming past Michaela’s red Toyota 4Runner, he heard her honk at him—something she’d always done when they were going somewhere together like this, him on his bike, her in her car. The slap of hot wind ruffled his clothes, and he welcomed the feel of it as he leaned into the curves. Being calm and focused for this first post-breakup talk with Michaela was critical. He had important groundwork to lay.
The bike was faster than a car, and he’d already stalked to the edge of the cliffs at the overlook by the time she pulled in and parked. Filling his chest with a deep, cleansing breath, he turned to face her. The force of her presence was still a shock, like surfboarding in high tide and knowing the big one was going to take you under. Her long brown hair was limned with gold from the waning sunlight, and her strong yet curvy body was still visible under the loose dress as she strode toward him in that determined, efficient walk of hers. Some women sauntered. Michaela Merriam ate up the ground under her feet, in complete command of everything around her.
“This had better be good,” she said, fisting her hands at her sides.
He couldn’t help but grin. “First, let me just say…you still look like a goddess. Maybe Pele, the Hawaiian fire goddess, because you’re so pissed at me.”
“That kind of comment is off-limits.” She kicked a rock at him. “Now, how did you discover the location of the Valley of Stars? Because if this is a ruse—”
“You think I’d make a deal with the Big Bad Wolf if I didn’t have the goods? Come on, Mickey! I’m not suicidal. Connor would end me.”
“So would I,” she said. His heart flipped in his chest as she came toward him, stopping next to him at the edge of the overlook. “Talk.”
He sat on the guardrail and extended his feet. “Do you remember Joseph, our guide in Tanzania?”
“Of course! He was wonderful. Professional. Kind. Honest.”
Three qualities hard to come by in a guide, Boyd had discovered. “That trip was a near perfect success. Easy in and easy out. We found the berry we wanted. Got along with the locals.”
“I remember, Boyd. I was there. Quit stalling.”
He gave her a look before continuing, “Joseph’s cousins are part of the Maasai tribe who guard the flower, and he visited them after our trip. Mentioned you and I might be the people they’ve been looking for. The tribe has a medicine man and woman, a husband and wife team.”
She cocked her head. “That’s unusual.”
Didn’t he know it? The Maasai were known for being patriarchal, even when it came to roles in herbal medicine, which were often bestowed to women in
other traditional tribes. “Seems they’ve both had visions of a couple being the answer to their prayers. The woman has a huge heart and likes to help people. Sounds like you.”
“I can’t wait to hear about the man,” she said dryly.
“He wants to share his knowledge with the world and speaks elegantly. Dare I say it’s an apt description of me? Plus, one of the pair has a special affinity for snakes, it seems.”
“Well, that part describes you, anyway,” she said, tapping her hand against her leg. “It’s weak, Boyd… I mean, you know I’m a sucker for all things mystical and you can go either way depending, but—”
“Joseph got to thinking we might be the couple the medicine man and woman had seen. Remember how I told him about being a snake charmer after we came upon that rock python—”
“That snake was thirteen feet long!” She held out her hands to punctuate the comment. “Even I freaked. Thank God Marvin was back at your tent sleeping. How is he, by the way?”
“He was depressed after our breakup, but he’s coming out of it. I told him you’re coming with us on our next trip.” When a country’s Customs laws allowed it or Boyd had an expediter, he brought his Tokay gecko along on scouting trips. Marvin always sounded the alarm if something attempted to enter his tent. “Anyway, the medicine man and woman want to meet us.”
“Asking for us specifically is a good sign,” she said, nodding. “When did Joseph call you?”
“Six weeks ago. I reached out to you, but you ignored me. I told him you were away on a trip, which was technically true.”
“Keeping tabs on me, Boyd?” she asked.
“More like hoping to run into you on the road,” he admitted, picking up a rock and throwing it across the makeshift parking lot. “I figured you were purposefully avoiding me. Today, your brother confirmed it.”
