And worse...
“Oh no,” she moaned. She lifted her right hand, which was still clutching her phone—which was dripping wet as well.
The screen which had showed her posing for the selfie a moment ago had gone dark. No matter what she tried, it wouldn’t turn back on.
My one and only trip to Iceland... And now I won’t even have pictures to show of it.
It was stupid, but she felt tears well up in her eyes. It wasn’t even an expensive phone, because she couldn’t afford expensive, but it had all her pictures and the numbers of her friends, and Tilly’s emails telling her which bus to take...
“May I?” the stranger asked, gently taking the phone from her trembling hand.
Swallowing against her tears, she looked up at him.
He was frowning at her phone, tilting it this way and that. There was a concentrated look in his eyes. The light hit them just so that for a moment, they gleamed strangely metallic. Another shiver ran through Autumn as she watched him, completely transfixed.
“You think these phones are all plastic, but that’s not true,” he murmured, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Inside, there are all sorts of tiny chips made from precious metals and rare earth elements...”
Gently, he swiped his thumb across her wet screen. Suddenly, water began to drip out of the bottom of her phone. A second later, it stopped—and then the screen suddenly came to life again.
“Wow,” Autumn breathed, eagerly taking hold of it when he held it out to her. “Are you an engineer?”
Hastily, she unlocked it, relief washing through her when her familiar home screen awaited her. Just to be sure, she opened her emails—and there was Tilly’s latest mail, reminding her once more of the route her bus would take, and when she or her husband would pick Autumn up at the stop.
Beaming at her savior, Autumn clutched her phone to her chest—and then found herself inexplicably blushing when she realized that she was still so close to the incredibly good-looking stranger that she could have easily leaned forward to kiss him.
Which she obviously wasn’t going to do. But just looking at him was enough to make her feel breathless.
“I’m not really an engineer,” he answered her earlier question, his serious eyes now soft and warm as he looked at her. “At least, not the sort who engineers phones. I’m in mining.”
“Mining,” Autumn echoed, still staring at him.
Then she swallowed. His broad shoulders made her think of strong men with pick-axes venturing into caves deep below the earth to search for a vein of gold.
That probably wasn’t how mining worked these days—she assumed it involved giant, mechanical drills, or something similar that required engineers.
Still, he looked like the sort of guy who’d been right at home in a mineshaft a hundred years ago—strong, confident and calm even in such a dangerous situation.
“I know, it sounds boring,” he said, gently taking hold of her arm now to steer her further away from the geyser. “But it’s the family business. And rocks can be interesting, too. Did you know that it’s the earth that causes a geyser to erupt? It’s not just the water. You get pockets of water under pressure pretty much everywhere, after all. But for a geyser, especially a reliable one like this, which erupts every few minutes, you need hard rock that forms something like a natural well. You only get this stunning effect if there’s no other escape for the water but a narrow vent leading up.”
“It doesn’t sound boring at all.” Autumn still couldn’t look away from his strong, broad arms. It was a little safer than looking directly into his eyes, but only by a narrow margin. His arms made her long for an embrace. And his eyes...
She felt herself flush with heat all over.
You can?
??t think of that. Not here! He’s a stranger—and probably not interested at all.
She took a deep breath. Water was still dripping into her eyes, and she wiped it away with another flush. Even wet, he looked incredibly handsome, like an Icelandic god—while she probably looked like a bedraggled wet cat right now.
“You’ll catch a cold,” he said with sudden worry. “Your clothes are all wet.”
“It’s really just my pants,” she said and winced. Even though the sun was shining, the wind was very cold. Her pants clung to her legs, soaking wet—and she hadn’t thought of bringing a spare pair of pants onto the bus. After all, it was supposed to be a calm, safe day trip, ferrying her and the other tourists from one attraction to the next.
“I have a spare pair of pants with me, dearie,” someone with a broad, unmistakable southern accent now said behind her.
When Autumn turned around, she found herself face to face with an old woman who was giving her a concerned look, her gray hair braided. Autumn didn’t know her name—but she’d watched her earlier, when they had boarded the bus. She’d been surrounded by what had to be at least half her family, with no less than six grandchildren excitedly milling about.
“As I said to my George, you have to be prepared for the weather out here. It’s Iceland! What if it snows? Or rains? Or if we end up snowed in on a glacier?” The woman gestured towards the bus, which was waiting in the distance.