Sommer Storms Ch. 03

If I finished it.

I brushed the hair from her face and she moaned before blinking awake.

"Mmmm," she said, her voice thick with sleep, "I'm so sore."

"Sorry," I said, sheepishly, the Madman -- that traitor -- long vanished.

"Don't be," she said, smiling and rolling to face me. "You are an evil bastard though, aren't you?"

"Yup. And...I have to confess something to you." I propped myself up on one elbow, feigning remorse.

"What?" she asked, her face all concern.

Yeah, I am an evil bastard.

"I'm not going to give you the chapter in my book, like I promised."

"What?" she bolted upright, grimacing at the pain of her various wounds.

"But you said--"

"I know what I said," I interjected, "But let's face it, you enjoyed every minute of your slavery so I hardly see why I should give you a chapter for that."

"You motherfu--" she raised her arm to punch me and I grabbed it just before it could plow into my shoulder.

"I'm going to give you an entire book," I said, waiting for her to process the information.

"You're...wait...I don't..."

"You're right, you know, there are a lot of environmental problems in 'paradise' and no one talks about them. I've made a good living skipping around the globe eating free meals and writing about sunsets, I think it's about time I gave something back. So, I'm scrapping my current manuscript -- even though my publisher will threaten to geld me for it -- and I'm going to write about the problems on this island, and a whole bunch of other ones."

This was the part where she was supposed to throw her arms around me, kiss me and tell me she'd fallen in love with me but all she did was stare. It wasn't a happy, you're-my-hero kind of stare either. She hung her head and rolled away from me.

What now? Why was this girl such a riddle?

"Sommer, talk to me, what's wrong. I thought you'd be happy?"

"I am," she said then buried her face in her pillow. She muttered something into the pillow then raised her head to face me. "I have a confession, too."

"OK."

"Please don't hate me."

"OK"

"You see, I thought you were just some arrogant asshole."

"Um...OK...I think," I said, puzzled.

"I knew who you were before that night at the resort. I always knew who you were. I've read all your books -- they're very funny, by the way."

"Thanks," I said, uncertainly.

"I have a friend at the Pacific Pearl who told me when you were going to be there eating dinner and he said the manager had arranged for you to have a coconut crab."

"You set me up..." I said, rubbing my chin.

"I figured, if nothing else, a photo would be good publicity but I hoped that I could maybe bribe you into writing something, anything, about the environmental problems going on in the Cook Islands. You're famous, people care what you have to say."

"And when I found you on the side of the road?" I said, finally grasping what she was saying.

"My scooter was running fine, I was waiting for you to come by." She shrugged apologetically, " Small island, one road."

"You used me."

"At first." She curled up, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them. "I didn't think I was going to like you. And then, at your house, when you did that stupid thing with the starfruit...I don't know...it was weird but I liked it. And I wanted more. You made me want more. I never expected any of this, I never expected to..." she stopped suddenly and bit down on her lip.

"Never expected to what?" I asked. Well, more like 'demanded'

She raised her eyes to mine and I saw tears threatening to spill, "I never expected to fall for you."

Damn.

The problem was, I'd fallen for her too. Fallen hard and fast. I'd never met someone who was so driven and passionate and so completely unaware of her own power. And complex. I felt as if I could spend a lifetime with this girl and never really know her; that intrigued me. But she'd played me. I didn't like that, not one bit.

Like you played her?

"Pack your things," I said simply.

"I'm so sorry," she said, tears now falling for real. "Please can't we..."

"You're still my slave for one more day. I said pack your things, now do as your told." I leaned in close to her face, "I'm going to need a research assistant for this new book and the sooner we can get you back and find someone to take you place on the reef survey project, the sooner we can start getting some work done. Capiche?"

She blinked, twice, then attacked me, throwing her arms around my neck and smothering me with kisses...finally.

"You're not angry?" she asked, when she pulled away.

I clasped my hand around my throat and let the Madman surface for an evil grin. "Furious."

At that same moment, a scream rang out from the other bedroom.

"Jules," we said, in unison, jumping out of bed.

We crashed into my friend in the hallway, she was speechless, shaking and pointing to her room. Sommer stepped inside, with me right behind her. The large screens on the windows were literally covered in hermit crabs, like something out of a horror movie.

"What are they doing?" I asked, mesmerized by the sight.

"Getting to high ground," Sommer said, matter-of-factly. "There's a storm coming, a big one. We need to get off this motu!"

Jules was a mess, Sommer helped her get dressed and packed while I called for boat taxi on the radio. No one was answering -- not surprising given the laid back, 'island time' attitude everyone had.

"I can't reach them," I called out to Sommer, who was busy closing up all the shutters.

"Put out a general call on channel nine, that's the one the fishing boats use."

I did as she said, though I doubted anyone would come even if we did reach them, the weather was really kicking up the lagoon was already a frothy mess.

An hour later there had still been no response. We'd given a Jules a shot of scotch to calm her down and resigned ourselves to the fact that we would be weathering whatever was coming our way alone.

"I've heard of animals doing that before," I told Sommer, as I sat with an arm wrapped around Jules, "but only for a cyclone or a tsunami or something big like that. It's still winter; we aren't even close to cyclone season yet."

"Climate change," Sommer said, double-checking the emergency supplies she had laid out on the table, "weather patterns are changing. The locals have all seen it happening. Tauono, at the organic garden, told me his starfruit tree fruits for six months now instead of two. It's crazy."

She reached over and squeezed Jules hand, then stood and made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"My kayak, I'm going to pull it further off the beach and tie it to something."

I nodded as Jules buried her face in my chest. "I hate this place," she wept, "I want room service."

"I know, I know," I stroked her head, "we'll be back in civilization soon, I promise."

Just a few moments later I heard screaming from outside the cottage. Jesus, what now? I ran to the door and flung it open to see Sommer on the beach jumping up and down, waving her arms in the air. "A boat!" she yelled to me above the wind, "They're coming this way! Hurry!"

I dashed inside, grabbing up Sommer's dry bag, my computer bag, and Jule's purse. We'd come back for the rest later. I grabbed Jules by the wrist and dragged her off the sofa, "Move your ass princess, room service awaits!"

We stumbled our way down to the beach where Sommer was holding the bowline for the tin boat. I instantly recognized Nga, who was waving at us to hurry. Moake was at the console, ready to motor us away from the shore. The waves were big, for the usually calm lagoon, but between Sommer and Moake they wrangled the boat in close enough for me to hoist Jules aboard, with some help from Nga.

I clambered over the side, a large wave nearly sending me flying, then held out my hand for Sommer. She waded quickly through the water and the moment she was onboard Moake hit the throttle.

"We hear you on the radio," Nga yelled, a wave spraying him from top to bottom. "I say, 'We better go get the crazy papa'a!'"

"Thank you!" I yelled back.

I settled myself in for the long bumpy ride, Jules on one side of me, her hands carving into my arms, Sommer on the other side, a smile of pure thrill on her face, Tangaroa, the sea god, shining through her eyes.

Sommer who bribed writers, liberated dead crabs, picked fights with giant Maori warriors, and liked having her ass beaten black and blue. She was a crazy papa'a.

And now she was mine.

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