But now Corrie would find someone new.
The thought of her with someone else sent a wave of nausea over him. Picturing her laughing with that hee-haw boom in another man’s arms. Twisting her delicate fingers through another man’s tresses. Carrying on in her badassery but returning home and giving her warmth to someone else.
He had no right to be jealous. And no right to be hurt. But damn . . . what he wouldn’t give to take it all back.
“How about you, Dr. Matthews?” Sunny asked. The question snapped Ford out of his daydreaming. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back?”
That was easy.
“Visit my mom.”
He’d tell her everything. Everything about how he’d gotten the money. About Corrie. And then he’d ask for her forgiveness. All these years he’d been so angry at his father and promised his mother that he’d never become him. Spent countless hours furious that his father could do that to his mother—leave her penniless, all for his own selfish reasons. Yet there Ford was, falling right into his father’s footsteps and swindling the woman he loved to get what he wanted.
“My mom wishes I’d put visiting her on my list,” one of the guys said.
“Please. Dr. Matthews is probably trying to impress the ladies, right Dr. Matthews?” Mateo joked.
A sarcastic laugh resounded in Ford’s head. “Me highlighting the fact that I’m a mama’s boy isn’t all that impressive,” he responded. Nothing like reminding Corrie of how he’d screwed her over for his mother’s sake.
“Well, it’s sweet,” Sunny said with a smile.
“What about you, Dr. Mejía?” Gabriel asked. “Do women eat that up when a man openly expresses how much he loves his mom? I need to know if I should be taking notes.”
Why? Why did they have to poke the beast? The proverbial elephant in the room. The guys were only joking, having gotten comfortable with such banter at camp. They were all more like family than students, teachers, and coworkers. The only sign that they recognized boundaries at all was the fact that still, after four months, they called him Dr. Matthews.
“Well . . .” she started, seizing Ford’s attention, “there’s no shame in admitting that, no matter who you are. If my mother were still alive, I’d want to see her, too.” A hint of sadness twinkled in her eye.
“Though I don’t think Dr. Matthews said that to impress anyone,” she continued. “He loves his mom and would do anything for her. At least he stands by something. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still need to log some items from today’s dig before I forget.”
She stood from the table, leaving a gut punch in Ford’s stomach. At least he stands by something. Ouch. The others likely had no clue what was going on. Not even Sunny or Ethan. But her choice of words had been no accident. Despite the glances and the unspoken permission to join them for dinner, Corrie Mejía was not over what had happened the other day.
And chances were, she’d never be.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Was it Corrie or was this the hottest, muggiest, longest night of this entire goddamn expedition?
She reached over to the table beside her bed to check the time—again—only one twenty-two a.m.? How was that even possible? She flipped over, kicking the extra blanket and sheet to the foot of the bed. That was all it was—the heat. Yes, the heat kept her up. It had nothing to do with Ford. Or that fact that his mother might not be able to get the treatment she needed to live. Or the fact that even after he admitted all the things he’d done, she still had feelings for him. Strong feelings. Warm feelings. Sexy hand down my shorts I can’t stop thinking about him feelings.
Okay, so her insomnia had everything to do with Ford.
But how was she supposed to sleep when he was less than a hundred feet away? Especially when her insides twisted whenever she thought about what she’d said at dinner. At least he stands by something. She’d regretted the words the instant she’d walked away. Why had she said that? Why had she stooped to such a level?
She needed a walk. Tire out her legs, and then she could finally fall asleep. Because after three nights of barely sleeping, she desperately needed it.
Corrie didn’t bother putting on more than the tank top and shorts combo she’d been (trying to) sleep in. Sure, the tank top barely contained her breasts, and her ass cheeks were a thread away from peeking out the bottom of her shorts, but no one else would be out and about. Not at this hour, at least.
The hum of the jungle filled the air, but the tents otherwise remained silent. As suspected, the camp was vacant. And judging by the silence, Corrie seemed to be the only person suffering from another sleepless night. Though . . . a soft glow came from Ford’s tent. A light, perhaps?
She wandered closer to his quarters, straining her ears to hear, but nothing. Not even the rustling of sheets or the soft purrs of his sleepy whimpers she’d come to know all too well. The tent canvas was extremely thick, though, so the chances she’d hear anything were slim anyway. After all, no one seemed to have heard them having sex, and Corrie wasn’t exactly what most would refer to as quiet, even though she had practiced lots of restraint these last few weeks.
Shh. Someone might hear, Ford would whisper in her ear. She could hear his deep timbre, the warmth of his breath and moisture from his lips sending a shockwave to her core as he rocked into her body.
A smile slowly crept over her, before she tamped it down. No. Stop thinking about him.
Moving away from his tent, she wandered through the camp. But her gaze never strayed far from the glow. Wondering if he was awake. Wondering if he had come up with a plan for his mom. Wondering if he was thinking about her.
Fuck it.
Corrie meandered back toward Ford’s tent, creeping up the porch and pressing her ear against the door, which creaked at her touch. Listening for any indication that he was awake.
“Is someone there?” Ford quietly called out.
That was indication enough.
Corrie pulled the door open and entered his tent. He was lying in bed with one arm lifted above his head, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, sweat glistening against his skin.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, crossing her arms to cover her now hard nipples. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“Neither can I,” he responded, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.
“Is it me or did the jungle decide to turn it up a few thousand degrees tonight?” she asked with a smile.
A half chuckle escaped his lips. She missed that laugh. She missed everything about him. Well . . . almost everything.
“It’s hot as balls,” he said.