Under Pressure
Page 14

He pops a piece of bacon into his mouth and grins. “Yeah, you can do that, Reesey Piecey. But come on, you went shark diving. It’s all anticlimactic after that.”
As if on cue, my nipple pops out again, and Cole clears his throat. “Speaking of climactic,” he says, and I readjust myself to hide my turgid nipple.
As much as I like where his mind is going, I point at his breakfast. “Hurry up and eat. We have a bus to catch in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be fast,” he says.
“Cole,” I warn.
He laughs and takes a swig of coffee. “Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.”
No, I can’t. He’s a guy and guys think about sex. All. The. Time. Even if this was more than that for him, which it’s not, our lives are in two different places. Mine, New York. His, Colorado. I would never ask him to give that up, or try to change him.
 
 
Chapter Six
Cole
After a long bus ride through the awesome scenery of the plains and cliffs of desert-like Klein Karoo, we arrive at our destination in the Western Cape. As we all climb off and stretch out our legs, we’re greeted by our guide and led to our hotel room to get ourselves settled before the tour of the endangered species ranch.
My room is next to Reese’s. I can’t help but think it’s a waste of money. We could have spared whoever sponsored this trip the cost of two rooms and just shared one. We’ve done that numerous times, even when we weren’t sleeping together.
I splash some water on my face and change into a clean shirt and shorts. Twenty minutes later, I knock on Reese’s door, and when it swings open, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to push inside, lock the door behind us, and spend the next two days in her bed.
“Are you ready?” she asks, her eyes wide with excitement.
I back up and wave for her to move past me. As much as I like my idea of staying in, she’s been talking nonstop about visiting the Cango Wildlife Ranch and seeing all the endangered species. Will she be brave enough to get her picture taken with a cheetah, or will she climb into my arms again, frightened half to death? As I mull that over, I do wonder why the friend who drew her name is putting her in situations that might frighten her. We all know she doesn’t like to step out of her comfort zone. Could that be why they wanted me here with her? Or was there another reason entirely. Hell, maybe they thought we were meant to be together, and this was their way of trying to make it happen. Nah, couldn’t be that. Right?
Reese closes her door and breezes past me into the hall, and I catch the fresh scent of her shampoo. Makeup free, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she’s the quintessential girl-next-door, and I’ve never seen her look more stunning.
We take the two flights of stairs to the main level and find a few others milling about, waiting for the jeep to pick us up and take us the short distance to the ranch. I flip through a brochure, then glance around and take in the eclectic mix of people as Reese speaks to a middle-aged woman about the trip. They’re discussing the animal encounters and which species they’d like to meet up close and personal.
Grinning, I glance outside, but when I see some douchebag looking at Reese, I feel a possessive tug in my gut. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’d like nothing more than to punch the guy in the face, but Christ, what right do I have to take down every guy who looks at her the wrong way. Or the right way. Or any fucking way at all.
Just then, a horn sounds, and we all make our way outside. Reese and I climb into the back of an open-air jeep that has been modified to seat nine people. During the short jaunt to the ranch, the driver gives us an educational briefing, discussing the conservation and breeding programs, and how they use interaction with certain ambassador animals to raise awareness, and that guests who have an encounter are more likely to react positively toward conservation issues. As the driver continues to talk, I pull out my phone and take a picture of Reese.
She blinks and whacks me. “What did you do that for?”
“Wanted to capture the moment.”
“Save your space, and take pictures of the scenery and animals, not me.”
I think about the shark diving video we’ve yet to see and turn my attention to the brochure. I hold it up and point to the crocodile cage diving. “Want to do that?” She gives a slow shake of her head.
“I think I’ve done enough cage diving for a lifetime,” she says.
I laugh, and the jeep comes to a stop at the ranch. I hop from the backseat, put my arms around Reese’s waist, and help her out. The staff tells us we’ll have a guided tour and then two hours to explore on our own. Within seconds, the tour guide Angela, dressed in a brown uniform with Cango emblazed on the T-shirt, arrives and leads us through a huge set of alligator teeth, aka the door to the park.
Reese pauses before the entrance. “If this is a sign of things to come…” she whispers.
“Don’t worry—”
“I know,” she says. “You won’t let anything happen to me.”
“Right. Come on.” I capture her hand and give a little tug to set her into motion. We follow the guide, and she leads us through the Valley of Ancients to view a variety of animals and reptiles. Then we cross a catwalk over a large natural enclosure, home to cheetahs, lions, leopards, and rare snow-white tigers.
Every time I glance at Reese, I grin and snap a few more pictures without her knowledge. I should be documenting the animals for her so she can enjoy them later, but I can’t keep my eyes off her. She is so totally in her element, and I love being here to capture the moment.
Little Reesey Piecey has wanted to be a vet since we were kids, and she talked forever about opening her very own rescue shelter. That’s probably why this conservation is so fascinating to her. Shit, maybe her dream could have come true if I’d stayed home to help her instead of fucking off to Colorado.
“Now what everyone is waiting for,” Angela says, folding her hands in front of her chest. “Up close and personal interaction with the animals.” Angela turns and says, “Follow me.”
Reese makes a nervous sound, and I’m about to pull her to me when the mouth-breather who’d been watching her earlier steps up to her.
“Nothing to worry about,” he says and cracks his knuckles.
“No?” she asks. “You’ve done it.”