“You know,” said Justin, “you’re tougher than you look.”

I stopped in my tracks, convinced that I’d misheard him. Justin kept on walking, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Did you just say what I think you said?” I asked.

“Sure did. Why—that a surprise to you?”

“Being told I’m tough by an ex-SEAL is a bit of a surprise, yes.”

“I didn’t say you were tough. I said that you’re tougher than you look.”

“Now I don’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted.”

Justin chuckled.

“Complimented,” he said.

I started walking again, picking up my pace to catch up with Justin, the dry sand crunching under my feet. The sun had begun to dip into the sky to the west, the left side of my face warm and hot.

“It’s strange that you’d say that,” I said. “Because I feel like I’m being the biggest baby of all time.”

“You’re not the first civvy I’ve been in a situation like this with,” he said. “And you’re holding up pretty well, considering the circumstances.”

“What,” I said, “you sleep with another girl and wind up in the desert with her?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning. “You’re a first for that. But I did end up stranded with some Hungarian steel baron’s kid.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Tell me about it.”

“Kid was a punk—I could tell that from the jump. The kind of wannabe tough guy that only the insanely wealthy could spawn. Tattoos up and down his arms, leather jacket, a sneer on his face twenty-four seven—about as bad as you’d think.”

“Sounds like a real pleasure,” I said.

“You have no idea. Kid and I were down in Miami, and I was getting paid big bucks to be his babysitter while he club-hopped, putting line after line of coke into his nose and throwing money at anything in a short dress that came within ass-slapping distance.

“Anyway, the next day, kid gets it into his head that he wants to fly over to the other side of the state—visit some friends. He had a helicopter, and I knew how to fly, so I figured sure. About halfway through the trip, I find out the hard way that some thugs from a local gang he’d gotten into trouble with sabotaged the chopper. We go down in the middle of the Everglades, and I just barely manage to get the bird on the ground without killing the both of us.”

Justin shook his head at the memory.

“Kid puts on his tough guy act at first, fronting like it was all some big inconvenience. But about two hours into it, once the humidity started making him sweat through his designer clothes, the veneer got stripped away, and he started acting more and more like the little brat that he was deep down. And when we saw our first gator, I was pretty sure the kid made in his skinny jeans.”

I let out a laugh.

“Long story short,” Justin went on, “he alternated between complaining and crying and being convinced we were done for the entire way. Part of me wanted to knock his ass out and risk just carrying him back. By the time we finally arrived at the little town in the middle of the state we were heading toward, the kid was a blubbering mess, begging on the phone for his daddy to come to pick him up.”

A smirk appeared on Justin’s face. He used his shirt to mop the sweat off his brow.

“So,” he finished. “In comparison, you’re doing pretty damn good.”

“Good to know that I can one-up some rich brat.”

“And take a look at that,” said Justin, pointing forward.

Up ahead, the endless expanse of the desert was broken up by the up-and-down of a black mountain range in the distance. In front of the range was a low valley, shaded and curving.

“That’s where we’re headed?” I asked.

“Sure is,” he said. “Shouldn’t be more than a half-hour to get there. Let’s move.”

I nodded, and we were off. Justin’s story had actually made me feel better. I never would’ve thought that I’d be the type to do well in a situation like this, but knowing that, at the very least, I wasn’t making an already difficult situation even worse was something of a relief.

After more trekking, we arrived at the entrance to the valley. The sun was even lower now, the sky a brilliant orange and cream on the horizon, shifting into a dramatic purple above. Directly overhead the stars twinkled, thousands of them scattered out like shimmering jewels. And sure enough, the oppressive heat of the day had begun to shift to a bitter cold.

“Now what?” I asked, running my hands over my arms in an effort to warm myself up.

“Now we find some shelter and start a fire.”

“From scratch?” I asked.

“Yep. And we better get a move on. I need to get it lit before the sun goes down.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah. I’ll start on the fire pit, and you’re going to need to find me some tinder and some kindling.”

“I don’t know what either of those things are,” I said.

“‘Tinder is the easy-to-light stuff that’s going to be the start of the fire. Think scrub, tiny twigs, bits of brush—anything that you could imagine burning up easily with a match. And the kindling is going to be what gets the fire really going. That’ll be bigger twigs, but nothing too huge. Got it?”

“I think so,” I said.

“Then let’s hurry—we don’t have any sunlight to waste.”

I scrambled around the area, picking up whatever looked like what Justin needed. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Justin dug a small pit and surrounded it with fist-sized stones. Once I’d gathered enough material, I hurried back to him and showed him what I’d found.

“Perfect,” he said, taking all the goods from my hands.

I watched as he carefully arrayed the soft, easily burnable material on the bottom, topping it with the larger twigs.

“Now what?” I asked. “You going to rub some sticks together or something?”

“Not needed,” he said. “Watch this.”

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small pair of glasses.

“Those yours?” I asked, with a smile. “Nerd.”

“Hey, you get to thirty-five and see how your eyes hold up,” he said, matching my expression.

Another wave of cold ran through my body. I hoped this would work.

He then positioned the glasses in such a way to catch the last traces of the day’s sun, focusing it into a tight point of light on the tuft of kindling. Holding it in place for a moment, the point glowed for a moment before bursting into a small flame.

“Nice!” I said, watching the fire spread through the kindling before moving onto the twigs.

I squatted down, holding my hands in front of the fire.

“Now,” he said. “Once this thing gets going, we use these bigger sticks here as fuel. Should keep us going through the night.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re a damn lifesaver.”

But as the warmth spread through my body, chasing away the last traces of bitter cold, my stomach began to growl.

“Damn,” I said, shaking my head. “Body just wants one thing after another.”

“Makes you realize how tough this survival thing is when you’re away from the comforts of civilization,” he said.

He stood up and looked off into the distance.

“Bet I can get a roo for dinner,” he said.

“You mean, like a kangaroo?”

“Exactly that,” he said. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Justin slipped his gun out of the waistband of his pants, checked the ammo, and started off without another word. Soon, he disappeared off into the horizon. I stayed by the fire, keeping my hands nice and toasty.

It dawned on me then, now that I was alone, how strange and scary this whole situation was. Justin and I were stranded in the middle of the Australian outback, miles from civilization, possibly with murderous henchmen on our trail. Despite it all, however, I felt safe, secure. If there was one person I could be stuck in a situation like this with, I knew that I could do a lot worse than a very capable man like Justin.

I stared into the fire, watching the tongues dance as the wood crackled. A pair of soft pops sounded in the distance, causing my head to snap up in attention. About ten minutes later, Justin returned to the camp, the body of a small kangaroo slung over his shoulder.

“Damn,” I said. “You really shot a kangaroo.”

“It’s good eating,” he said. “You ever had one before?”

“I didn’t even know people ate them.”

He dropped the body near the fire.

“I would say you’re in for a treat, but I’m not sure how much my limited cooking skills can dress this up.”

Justin took the multi-tool out of his pocket and flicked open the knife.

“Ah, you might want to turn away for this,” he said.

Not wanting to watch the animal get butchered before my eyes, I turned around and focused my eyes on the horizon. The sky was now totally black, the sliver of the waning moon hanging among the endless sweep of stars. After about fifteen minutes, Justin spoke.

“Here,” he said, handing me a stick skewered with raw meat. “Cook this over the fire.”

I took the stick, skeptically inspecting the chunks of pink meat speared through it. But my hunger was very, very insistent by this point, and I wasn’t about to turn down food. I held the stick over the flame for a bit, watching the meat turn from pink to a darker, cooked color.

As it roasted, I glanced up at Justin. The fire flickered in his gorgeous eyes, a look of total purpose on his face. Sitting here with him, knowing that he had me taken care of, that he had this situation about as under control as one could hope, made me feel safe and secure. I felt close to Justin—a different kind of closeness than mere sexual attraction.

“Thanks,” I said, as the smell of cooked meat filled the air, making my stomach rumble.

“Anytime,” he said, giving me a wink that made a lovely flash of excitement run through my aching body, the stars above silent witnesses to our happy little camp.