Maybe, just a little more… Scoffing down a few more mouthfuls, she scooped up her wineglass and headed out to the barbecue.It stood near his outdoor bar, which looked more like a grass hut this time of day, with its colourful party lights reflecting off the water.
Stone put a dish down in front of Finley, murmuring something to the odd-looking turtle.From this angle she could clearly see his rear right leg was missing, and there was a jagged scar across the back of his shell.The poor thing.
‘What’s got you looking so sad, shortcake?’Stone’s brow ruffled.
‘I was just thinking about Finley losing that leg.Do you know how?’
‘Crocodile.’
‘They eat turtles?’
‘Sure, if they’ve got nothing else to eat.It’d be like a meaty Malteser for those man-eaters.’At the barbecue, Stone flipped the steaks, the sizzle rising in the balmy evening air.
‘That fin, on the back of his shell, is that for more than just swimming?Finley would have adapted.I’ve seen plenty of wild animals’ cope with a loss of a limb.’She casually scratched at an itch under her chin.
With hands on hips where his jeans hugged him so well, he gazed down at the turtle happily eating by his boots.‘The base of the fin filled in the crack of his shell, and it was so he can be easily spotted when underfoot, especially when he was younger, he would have been easy to squish.It’s also there in case Finley falls over, to stop him rolling onto his back.It allows him to rock himself upright.’
‘I get it.’Why didn’t he just say so the first time she asked?
Scratching her inner elbow, she realised Stone had a habit of only feeding half-stories—sparking her curiosity to know more.He was already proving to be more than she’d first assumed—never acting on just one motive, there was always something deeper meaning behind his actions.
‘Have you decided what you want to make your documentary about?’
She shrugged, wondering if she was getting bitten by something, as she scratched at her wrist.‘Sort of.But then I remembered you saying how stacks of people come out here to make documentaries, that I’m now struggling to find my unique angle.’She leaned against the pole, scratching her other forearm, while watching Stone cook dinner.‘Even if Julian was a wanker, he had a unique idea.’
‘That’s true.’His eyes dropped to notice her scratching her arm.‘I’d better put on the bug stuff.’He flicked on some switches behind the bar.‘The mozzies will love your southerner’s skin.Sadly, it’s one of the drawbacks of living beside a jungle.’
‘They normally don’t bother me.’She scratched again, only the heat was making her skin abnormally tight.
‘Are you sure about that?’Stone pointed at her neck, while wearing a mild frown.‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh, no.’She forced a laugh as the heated patchwork of red blotches crept up her inner arms, as the itch started from below her ears.‘I think I’m reacting to something I ate.’The itch on her throat was horrific.
‘Are you allergic to anything?’
‘Seafood.’
‘Well, hell, Romy!’Stone’s face fell as if mortified.
‘I can eat fish, and calamari, just not shellfish.’
‘Like the shrimp and crab in the salad?’Stone pointed his barbecue tongs towards the kitchen.
‘What shrimp?’She’d wolfed down her salads so fast she hadn’t noticed.
‘Are we talking epi-pen kind of allergic?’Now Stone looked really worried.
‘No.’Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to brush it off.‘It’s not that bad.I just get a little bumpy and itchy.’Small lumps grew across her skin, along with the heat as the ugly hives began emerging.‘Don’t panic.I’m not going to die on you.It’s just hives.’She screwed her face up, desperate to not scratch.
‘Are you sure?’Stone’s confident grin may have returned, but his tone was still loaded with worry.She’d recognised that worried tone when he spoke to the teary Lenora, earlier today.‘You’re definitely heading into bumpy territory now.But hey, who doesn’t love a little texture?’
Romy’s groan switched to an embarrassed half-laugh, as she hid her hot face behind her hands.‘Great.That’s exactly what I need—you pointing out that I look like a raspberry.’
‘More like a pomegranate, bursting with colour.’
‘Where’s the sympathy?’She dropped her jaw in mock horror.
‘So you don’t want me to say that you look like a blackberry or a blushing cherry?’His chuckle was light, as he grabbed his first-aid kit from behind the bar and rummaged around until he found some ointment.‘Hold still, this will help with your hives.Don’t you have any antihistamine tablets?’
