“Is it because we got interrupted by the turbulence?”
She scoffed. “No, it’s because my tour guide is a reckless man-child.”
“I could finish what we started on the plane. Maybe that would improve your mood.”
She gaped at him. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Unsure where she was going, she stomped off.
“What? I was being generous!”
She growled and kept walking toward the steady beat that pounded in the distance. It was not a sound of nature but the sound of human life. Perhaps someone there could help her. Peter claimed the Never Lands were his, but he also mentioned lost boys. There were clearly others on the island. At the moment, she could easily trade her escort for someone less annoying.
A twig snapped behind her, and she turned, startled to find Peter at her back.
“Did I scare you?”
“No. And what is this obsession you have with my fear.”
He shrugged. “Girls are always in distress.”
“Hardly. We have much more fortitude and courage than society realizes.”
“There’s a spider in your hair.”
She swatted wildly only to realize he was teasing her when he laughed. Composing herself, she glared at him. “You’re a child.”
He smirked. “You only say that because adults forget how to have fun. It’s like some sort of amnesia. You might already have it.”
“It’s called responsibility.”
“More like indentured slavery if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Half the rules are unnecessary. People are too afraid of chaos.”
Typically, she’d agree with him, but with each muddy step and stinging mosquito bite, the thought of her secluded bedroom grew more and more attractive.
Speaking of chaos, he’d removed his jacket and tie, and a storm of confusion whirled inside of her.
He rolled his sleeves, exposing the strength of his forearms. His tanned skin and muscular physique were undeniably attractive, but his cavalier behavior was a total turn-off. Unfortunately, he wore unruly well. And his unpolished, bad boy appearance confused her all the more.
“What are you looking at?”
Realizing she was staring, she dropped her gaze and asked, “Do you hear that music?”
“That’s just the Lost Boys.”
“And who are the Lost Boys again?”
“My friends.”
She self-consciously looked down at her clothes. “How many are there?”
He quietly counted on his fingers. “Six. Seven if you count Belle.”
“Who’s Belle?”
“She’s the only girl in the group. I can’t very well call her a Lost Boy.”
