“You’re welcome.” His voice is low and as smooth as melted chocolate. He shifts subtly, causing more contact. The air between us crackles with undeniable energy.

With a mischievous grin, he reaches down as though to adjust his backpack at his feet but grazes my knee with his fingertips instead. I shiver as heat pools low in my body. Since when are knees erogenous zones?

“You’re cheating,” I croak.

“Am I?” he drawls.

With a crooked smile, he pulls away, just enough to break our minuscule contact.

I suck in a trembling breath to steady myself before yanking my water bottle out of my bag and taking a sip. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye—he’s studying me intently. Inclining his chin, he takes a Galápagos field guide from his pack and begins reading.

It’s a clear reminder: the bet is still mine to win. Or lose. I can’t keep track anymore which is which.

Gustavo lumbers up the aisle, counting guests. When he reaches the end, he shouts an “okay to go” to the driver. I bounce as the bus rumbles over the curb and onto the street.

It’s barely nine in the morning, I’ve spent approximately four minutes in Graeme’s company, and I’m ready to rip off our clothes and set this bus on fire.

How in the world am I going to survive the day?

20

Xiavera halts our group of a dozen passengers. Around us, the lush tropical highlands are a stark contrast to the windy beaches and arid lowlands of the rest of the archipelago. Towering scalesia trees form a canopy over the grass-covered, red-clay ground, and the air carries the fecund scent of rot and growth—the smell of a healthy forest.

Behind Xiavera, four giant tortoises loiter in the undergrowth. None of them are particularly big—the largest is the size of a cocker spaniel—but they’re still incredible. Wizened heads poke out of slick, patterned shells. Cameras click all around, including Graeme’s. He’s standing several feet away, while I’ve ensconced myself between a pair of elderly women, but I don’t need to look to know where he is. My body already does.

“Decades ago, this sight was not possible,” explains Xiavera. “When Charles Darwin came to the Galápagos Islands, giant tortoises were plentiful, but then they were hunted to near-extinction by sailors. It is only because of intensive breeding programs that we see tortoises in the highlands today. People are the problem. But they can also be the solution.”

Rolling up the sleeve of her red hiking shirt, she checks her watch. “Okay, you have an hour to explore the highlands on your own. We will reconvene at the welcome center at half past eleven.”