Page 14 of Uncharted Desires
“What? I’ve been taking directions from your deluded ass for a decade.”
“Pfft . . . when you want to.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she said, her voice going up practically an octave.
“I don’t think that’s the right note, Weston,” he said, trying to mimic her voice. “That harmony will sound like shit, Weston; you don’t want keys there it will overpower the guitar. Why am I way back here? I can’t hear the others.”
“Enough,” she cut him off. “You’re getting off topic here. You’re the one who got rip-roaring drunk and fell off the goddamn boat, but you’d rather blame me or the mysterious ghost who pushed you overboard than take responsibility for your actions. Which is rather typical, don’t you think?” Her finger pushed into his chest as she craned her neck to look up at him.
“And what the hell does that mean?” he said, purposely copying her.
“URGH! Why are you so infuriating?”
West tried to hide his smile as she breezed past him. “Where are you going?” he called.
“Away from you. There has to be some other human on this godforsaken island that can free me of you once and for all!”
But as she trudged away through the sand, her steps faltered, and suddenly she was falling.
In an instant, he was there to catch her as her legs trembled and gave way underneath her.
“Kat! Kat!”
Slowly, he allowed himself to sink into the sand. His arms supported her weight as her eyelids fluttered open, and she took in their surroundings. He felt the contours of her body against his, surprised by how effortlessly they fit together.
“Wha-what happened?”
West helped her sit back up, but she was still unsteady.
“You fainted,” he told her.
She gave him a scathing look. “Fainted sounds so Victorian. Oh, please Mr. Belvedere, go get my smelling salts. I fear I’ve got a touch of the vapors again,” she said in her best English accent.
West tried to smile at her joke but worry for her ate away at him.
“I just need water,” she reassured him. “There has to be a stream or waterfall somewhere on this island.”
“I’ll go search for it. You stay here.” He would not have her passing out on him again.
Kat rolled her eyes and squared her jaw with determination. “No,” she said, standing up and walking inland, her steps uneven.
West sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Kat, you just passed out. You don’t need to do this. I’ll find water and bring you some.”
“I don’t need some high and mighty man to bring me water,” she said, turning to face him. “One, you have no container to bring it back in; two, who knows how far away it is; and three, you have no navigational skills whatsoever, so you would one hundred percent get lost getting back to me.”
West silently cursed under his breath; how did she even know about his lack of direction? She raised an eyebrow in silent challenge and then began trudging into the forest.
“Better get your shirt,” she called to him from the trees.
Infuriating woman.
He walked back to where his shirt lay, now covered in a thin layer of sand. He shook out the fabric and ran to catch up with her, wondering how he could be both worried about someone’s welfare and want to strangle them at the same time.
Kat walked into the rainforest, following behind West as he moved ahead of her. The awkward silence loomed between them like a knife overhead, and while what she wanted to know was what had happened that night he had left her so long ago, she knew now wasn’t the time. Instead, she decided to probe into his personal life to take her mind off their predicament. Or maybe curiosity had just gotten the better of her after Reggie, the tour bassists had gotten drunk and told them all about West and Gia’s epic fight in Paris.
“So, why did Gia throw a hair dryer at your head? I heard it was quite the fight.”
West moved the brush aside as they made their way inland. A cacophony of bird sounds rustling the trees drew her attention, sending a shiver through her body. She didn’t want to think about what lurked behind all the trees and bush.