Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“No! I don’t think that’s really a thing,” I said, closing my eyes and forcing myself to take a deep breath. “God, it burns.”
“What if it was venomous? Box jellyfish are venomous. What did it look like?”
I groaned. “I don’t know. It just looked like a jellyfish.”
“Peeing on it will at least help rinse it.”
“Archer, you are not peeing on me,” I practically growled. “They told us in our emergency training that it’s not a thing.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his brow creased with worry. “We at least need to rinse it.”
He bent down and scooped me into his arms, and I didn’t protest because all I could think about was the pain. Nutter was following us, filming as Archer ran to our camp, my arms around his neck.
This was bad. I didn’t want the world seeing me as a damsel in distress and Archer Hale as my ripped rescuer who swooped in and saved the day. I’d been saving the day all by myself for years and was doing just fine, thanks.
Archer gently put me in the hammock and rushed over to grab a canteen.
“Just give me the canteen and you can go back to fishing,” I said, irritated by the whole situation.
He gave me a skeptical look. “How are you feeling? Is your heart racing?”
“It’s just the sting that hurts, and even that’s not as bad as it was.”
Walking over to the hammock, Archer stared down at me. I stared back. The dark stubble on his face suited him. He was a little leaner than when we’d started the show, and of course, that suited him, too. As did his bronzed-by-the-sun skin.
I had no doubt that if he needed to, Archer could survive on this island indefinitely. Whereas I…could not.
“Hey.” He crouched down and took my hand, the contact radiating warmth throughout me. “Your health means more than this show. If you need me to call for medical help, I’ll do it right now.”
The producers had given us a satellite phone for emergency use. But they had been clear—calling for any reason meant we would immediately be eliminated from the show.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “If it had been venomous, we’d know by now.”
“You need to be more careful,” he said, his tone slightly scolding.
“Jellyfish stings happen every day,” I replied, rankled by his warning. “If I want to walk in twelve inches of the clearest water I’ve ever seen, I will.”
He shook his head. “Why are you so damn stubborn, Lo?”
“Why are you acting like you’re my caretaker?”
Did he realize he was still holding my hand? I was having a hard time thinking about anything else. His hand was big and warm, and even though I’d dated other men since we broke up, none of them had ever held my hand.
“Out here, I am your caretaker,” he said, his tone softer now. “And you’re mine. We’re partners, Lo.”
I clenched my free hand into a fist, fighting back the urge to cry. It would be humiliating for the whole world to see me getting emotional over Archer calling us partners, but having him see it would be even worse.
We were partners here, and there was no double meaning in what he’d said, but for some reason, when he said it while looking into my eyes, his hand wrapped around mine, it felt different.
“Will you get me some water?” I asked, desperate to move past this moment.
“Yeah, of course.”
He got up to get a canteen, and I closed my eyes and composed myself. I’d sworn I’d be a badass bitch out here, not an emotional weakling.
Archer returned and passed me a canteen.
“Thanks,” I said, not looking at him.
“I’m going to grab the raft and my fish. Be right back.”
“Just go do whatever you were going to do,” I said. “I’m fine.”
He stopped and looked at me, shaking his head. “I just want to hang around camp in case you start feeling worse.”
Of course he did. As a boyfriend, Archer had always been concerned with my comfort and well-being. I had a feeling women were going to flock to him when this show aired. And I’d come off like a bitter, ungrateful ex.
Maybe I was just cranky. I hadn’t had coffee or sugar in nine days, and I didn’t sleep great here.
I tamped down my irritation.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I’m just going to be in the hammock, hopefully taking a nap.”
“It looks stormy all of a sudden,” he said, looking up at the clouds gathering in the sky. He looked back toward the shore and pointed at the raft. “I’ll be right back.”
He jogged off and I curled up on my side. I’d only had my eyes closed for a few seconds when a few raindrops fell onto my face and bare legs.
A nap while being rained on was unlikely. I wanted to grab my phone and vent to Layla about things like this. I imagined the text I’d send her right now.