The Trip (The Dumonts Book 3) by M.A. Gray

Author:M.A. Gray [Gray, M.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Summer House
Published: 2020-01-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Kellan

Hours and hours later, after Harp and I check into our hostel in Bacalar, we wander into town to take in the sights. Bacalar is a small, sleepy little town situated on a lagoon. It features a central square, the same as all the other cities in Mexico. It has a colorful sign spelling out Bacalar with the lagoon in the background. Bacalar, Harp told me, is becoming a more popular tourist destination. In the age of social media, nothing is unknown anymore. Still, Bacalar maintains its quiet feel—for now.

We pass a Starbucks on one street that has vintage furniture. It sits next to an open storefront that sells everything from fruit to cheese to dried beans. Though Harp bought food earlier, he grabs a ripened mango and pays for it, then peels away the skin and bites into the juicy flesh. I watch, mesmerized, as the sweet juice drips down his chin. Who knew messy eating could look so attractive?

Harp catches sight of me staring. He stares right back. “Want some?” he says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. The air smells of grilled corn and fresh tortillas.

Reaching out, I clasp Harp’s wrist to stabilize the fruit while I take a bite. My stomach has since recovered from my illness. The entire time, I keep my gaze on him as I slurp away the soft fruit.

Harp’s eyes are suddenly dark. Like, dark dark. They latch onto my mouth as I chew, then swallow. I feel the juice coating my lips and use my tongue to lick it away. His pupils are blown.

I can’t catch my breath. I want so badly to lean forward, but I’m not sure if Harp wants the same, despite the obvious desire.

“Another?”

The word reaches my ears as if having been spoken from far away. “What?”

“Do you want another bite?” His voice has a rough quality to it. Sandpapery.

After a moment, I nod and take another bite. Again, his attention remains on my mouth. When I’m done, Harp finally looks elsewhere.

“Sun’s going down,” he comments, looking to the sky. It’s washed in the most divine pinks and oranges. The clouds are perfectly fluffy, tinged a pale lavender.

For some reason, disappointment moves through me. “Back to the hostel?” I guess. We’ve probably walked a couple miles today, in addition to five hours stuck on a bus. At least it had AC like Harp promised.

“Not necessarily. The lagoon is supposed to be warm. We could go for a swim.”

I look down at my clothes. “I’m not wearing my bathing suit.” Stating the obvious, here.

Harp says, with amusement, “You’re saying you’re passing up a chance to flash your gorgeous body to the world?”

I gasp all diva-like. “You know me so well.” My eyes twinkle. “I’ll keep my boxers on. Wouldn’t want you to succumb to my, um, charm,” I finish with a pointed glance at my groin.

He laughs and finishes the fruit, then tosses it into a trashcan. It’s a half mile to the lagoon. We bypass the more congested town center and move south to where it’s quieter and less populated.

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