by Kat Bastion
“Because this” —I took a deep breath, looked around, then pegged her with a serious look— “feels like home.”
Leilani…
Mase’s last word echoed in my head as I stared at him.
Home.
What Maui meant to me. Deeper than any dot on a two-dimensional map. Stronger than the ancient land beneath my feet. Greater than the vast blue oceans. Her energy sang through me.
And that feeling, the loyalty to something undefinable, was the very reason why I’d been distancing myself from him.
He represented everything haole—not of my island.
“You got something to take notes with?”
I blinked, his voice snapping me from my thoughts. “No.”
Thick blond eyebrows shot up, then his gaze dropped to the front pocket of my dress. “Don’t tell me you can’t type something on that phone burning a hole in your pocket.”
“In what? A text?”
“No, smartass. There’s a Notes app.”
I glared at him and pulled out my phone. With an irritated flick of my finger, I animated the screen. I had no idea why I fought against him so hard with every little thing. Maybe I’d been ordered around all my life. Wanted some freedom to make my own decisions.
Scanning the apps on the first page, before sliding to the next, I was vaguely aware of him pacing the back length of the house. A yellow-and-white app tucked into the middle of the third screen caught my eye.
Huh. Notes.
Refusing to admit he was right, I glanced up. Unstoppable, an indignant tone laced my words, “What note is so important?”
Walking the side of the house, lips moving with every step as if counting, he held up a finger, signaling me to wait. When he finished, he nodded then looked my way, eyes squinting in the direct sunlight. “Make a list. First item: Get something to taking notes with.”
My scowl was met with his smirk.
“Funny. Next?”
“Dimensions of house: twenty by thirty. Materials: carpentry tools, two saw horses, plywood, lumber, toolbox…” He droned on, giving estimated amounts and other details.
My fingers did their best to match his quick words. And the longer he spoke, and the faster I typed, the more I realized I shouldn’t have fought him so hard. My typing fumbled as it finally hit me.
I need this. A purpose.
And if I wanted to make my own decisions, then I’d have to figure out what he needed before he knew it. Be the assistant he never expected me to be.
Filled with a greater motivation, I followed him and did my best to look at the house through his eyes, his vision. “It’s not so bad.”
“Good. You’re gonna help me fix it up.”
I choked out a laugh. “Definitely not.”
He cupped a hand to his ear. “What’s that? Is that another ‘no’ I hear? With that capital Y and exclamation points?”
“You’re insane.”
“Possibly.”
I crossed my arms, shaking my head. “Not gonna do it.”
“Our lack of details in your job description says you are.”
“We should put my responsibilities in writing.”
He gave a halfhearted shrug. “Don’t need to. We have an oral agreement.”
“I’m sure I have a legal-out there,” I grumbled.
“I’m sure you don’t. You agreed when I said personal guide, PR rep, assistant, whatever I need.”
“No, you said ‘whatever I want to call myself.’”
“Doesn’t change the implied duties. Guide, PR rep, assistant.”
“Office assistant.”
“Didn’t say that, but yeah, that too.”
I scowled. “And if I don’t?”
“Don’t what?”
“Agree to your terms?”
“What, you gonna hire a lawyer?”
“Maybe. I know lawyers here.”
“No dice. You agreed to our verbal terms—on a remote island where you found me, in a place where things scrawled on napkins and handshakes are binding contracts. And I’m here—as we agreed per your verbal stipulations—ready, willing, and able to represent your brother’s company.”
All of a sudden, he moved, stealthy and smooth, but fast. One moment he stood ten feet away, the next he towered over me, the heat of his body almost touching mine. My ass, he couldn’t catch a cane spider. When I tilted my head up, staring into blue eyes that had darkened, I swallowed hard.
His breath fanned over my face, minty and warm. “I know lawyers too, helped one study for the bar for months. And she aced it. You don’t have a legal leg to stand on.”
My fists clenched, anger sparking in my gut at hearing about a “she” in his life, even as my body reacted to his, turning hot for an entirely different reason, lower, and achier.
“Or, instead of battling it out in court” —his voice lowered, booming deeper and softer with every next word— “we could battle it out here, see what you’re made of.”
I took a step back, needing more inches of distance. “I don’t need to prove myself to you.”
“Didn’t say you did.”
And still, the challenge hung crystal clear in the tense air between us.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m sure I could swing a hammer.”
A lazy grin curved his lips. “That’s my girl. We’ll start you off light. How are you with weeds?”
His humor got lost on me. Because, without warning, my heart stuttered at his possessive words. I had no idea why. Not like he was any different than any other guy. Same idiot ideas in their head, like tricking girls into being construction workers and weed pullers. And same thinking with their dicks, getting all up in my space like that.
Evelyn reappeared before I got a chance to respond. “He’ll take it. First month’s plus a security deposit, and he’ll do a two-year lease.”
My head spun. He’d be here to stay. For real. For two years, at least.
“Okay.” He clapped his hands once, then rubbed them together, oblivious to the fact my entire world had shifted. “Let’s check out this board shop of your brother’s.”
Right. I blew out a hard breath. Makani’s. Where Kevin had dropped Mase’s bags off after taking us to the real estate office.
The twenty-five minute car ride down seemed surreal. Going up the mountain, everything had remained up in the air. On the drive back, things were settling into place for Mase. Fast. Me? Totally unsettled.
But the conversation in the car seemed lighter than before, mostly Evelyn sharing Maui factoids with Mase and his follow-up questions back at her. Staring out the window, I focused on steadying my breaths, grateful for the reprieve.
Eventually we made it back to the shop. When Mase walked in, his gaze scanned the room and I let him take the lead.
When my brother came through the back workroom doorway into the retail area of the shop, sanding mask still on his face, Mase tipped his head toward him. “You Makani?”
My brother gave a nod. “Mase.” Then Makani pulled the dust mask down below his chin, and extended a hand out toward Mase. “Howzit, brah?”
“Not bad.” Mase gave him a firm handshake. “Found a house to rent.”
“Yeah? Where at?”
Mase glanced at me, raising his eyebrows with a questioning expression.
“Kula.” Uneasiness rippled through me again the instant I said the place, as if speaking it aloud made it more real. On a deep breath, I tried to shake the feeling. “He grabbed Nelson’s old place.”
“Wot, dat shack?” He slipped into Pidgin drawl. “Dat t’ing fall down t’morrah aftahnoon.”
I laughed, glancing toward Mase. “That’s what we always say.”
Makani nodded. “Winds kick up to twenty plus miles an hour most days. Batter those crusty walls. Then the rains come. Can’t believe the damn place is still standing.”
With a nod toward Mase, I folded my arms over my chest. “He’s gonna fix it up.”
“Yeah?”
> “Yeah.” Mase scanned the room. “Let’s talk boards. And sponsorship.”
“You sure you wanna take Leilani on?”
“Kani!” I punched him in the shoulder. “It’s a done deal.”
“I dunnooo…” Mase rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, as if reconsidering it.
“Fine. You wanna ditch me before I even show you what I’ve got, suit yourself. Not the first time.” I stormed out of the suddenly too-small room.
But I hung back within earshot, leaning against the outside wall between the door and the corner of the building, digging my toes into the cool shaded sand as I glared out toward the ocean.
“No, brah.” Makani’s voice drifted through the open door. “Let her chill.”
“She always so…?” Mase let the unfinished question hang.
What? Strong…independent?
I nodded, to the world, to Mase. “You bet your city-boy ass, I am,” I mumbled.
“Defensive?” Mase filled in the blank as his voice drifted closer. “Stubborn...?”
My breath caught and I froze as his tone dropped to a near whisper. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. He had to be inches away, hovering just inside the doorway.
“Yeah.” My brother’s voice had lowered, even as it also grew louder, clearer.
In my mind’s eye, we stood lined up at the front of the board shop, me hidden from their view, Mase in the doorway barely out of sight, and my brother just behind and beside him.
Makani, don’t say anything…don’t you dare breathe a word.
Controlling my breaths, I stared far out across the calm blue of the ocean. On a slow exhale, I cast a wish out to the wind—that I’d find my way, discover some kind of peace.
“And…more.” Mase finished.
The weight of his last word held meaning and wonder—respect.
Tears sprang to my eyes. I pinched them shut, willing them away, as a choking cramp seized my throat.
It’d been such a long time since anyone had had that kind of belief in me.
Mase…
Instinct kept me rooted in place, even when Makani turned and walked deeper into his shop.
Nothing felt good about leaving Leilani hanging after she’d stormed out, clearly upset at me; my gut screamed to go and find her, settle things down between us.
But her brother knew her best.
And even after spending hours looking at houses, I still had no idea what had set her off between the first time I’d met her in the South Pacific, where we’d been real with each other, and today, where we’d been skirting real all day long. Something on Maui? Me?
Resigned to the fact that I couldn’t do anything for her at the moment, I followed Makani through the front retail area, past long quivers of boards lined up on either side of the shop. He lifted a hand with slightly gnarled fingers to briefly touch the last few, an artist paying reverence to his creations. As we reached a work bay in the back half of the building, I noted his resemblance to Leilani with his lean muscular frame and their similar dark facial features. He even had long black hair, only his was pulled back and fastened with a tie.
When he turned, he stared at me, cocking his head a little.
I furrowed my brow. Had I missed something? “What?”
“Leilani likes you.”
“You’re high.” Even if I suspected it, wouldn’t dare flinch about it in front of her brother.
“Nuh-uh.” He crossed his arms. “She does.”
“You’d have to be—to think she likes me after all the drama back there.”
“Means she likes you. A lot. Never seen her that fired up over nuttin’ before.”
I glanced toward the front of the shop again and caught her profile through the large plate glass window. She leaned against a railing by the walkway. Her arms were rigid, her jaw clenched. Cogs turned in my head, trying to make sense of her irritated demeanor, but nothing clicked into place. “But…she doesn’t want to like me.”
“‘Ass right. Leilani want nuttin’ ta do wit’ choo. An’ she do.”
Confused as fuck about the contradiction, I shook my head.
He picked up a sander from the table between us, then relocated it safely out of the way on a workbench beside other shaping tools. “And you?”
“What about me?” I pushed off the wall, turning my back on the paradox outside to focus on the main reason I’d come in the first place. Not the girl. I’d made a vow before meeting Leilani not to live for anyone other than me first. “Why am I here, you mean?”
Makani shrugged. Like that wasn’t what he’d meant, but accepted the misunderstanding anyway. “Sure. You like my boards. Gotta be somet’ing redeemable ’bout you.”
“I do like them. Especially what you’re making them from. Recycled materials, right?” He had one half-shaped on the worktable. Admiring its lines, I ran a hand over one curving rail from tail to nose.
“Yep. Experimenting with new woods and natural resins, too.”
“They’re light.”
He gave a nod, then lifted his work-in-progress, angling it toward me. “Try this one.”
“Whoa.” The board felt light as a sail, but had great balance. No idea how he achieved a level of art with a structure so simple, but he did—better than any I’d seen. And to be able to make a better board without poisoning the environment? “Pure genius,” I whispered.
He crossed his arms and shrugged again, expression remaining humble. “Ain’t much to it. I care ’bout ‘āina, kai: da land, da water. We live, drink, breathe it all. No dollars or biz should touch that—not for me. Doing and caring? Same thing.”
His voice hardened with every word, vocabulary sharpening, Pidgin almost disappearing. Maybe his family spoke it, maybe he’d grown up around the dialect. But like Leilani, he seemed highly educated, quick-witted, and appeared to have serious business acumen.
Which circled back to the reason why we’d hooked up in business. “And you want me to represent the brand…” And by association, spread a message of conservation, protection of our planet. Until then, I hadn’t given the whole thing deeper thought. But standing in his shop, my decision to sign with him—one initially prompted by his spirited sister, not the earth-friendly boards—felt better than ever. “I’m honored.”
“Yep. Name on the boards. Mentioned in interviews.”
I nodded at a sailboard mounted on the wall. “Windsurfing only?”
“Why, you entering other competitions?”
“Maybe. Gonna feel out what I like.”
He dropped an assessing look at me, then narrowed his eyes. “Not surfing for prize money?”
“Nope.” A long pause followed. Something he should’ve questioned never came. Annnd…yet another layer added to the Leilani-paradox. Earlier, he’d teased about me taking her on, but mentioned nothing about his sponsorship money—I wasn’t getting a dime of it, Leilani was. However her brother didn’t seem to know that yet. Interesting. But not my secret to tell.
The primary reason burned in my chest. “Don’t want to be governed by money.” My whole life had revolved around it. Sickened by the fucked-up world that couldn’t see beyond greed and power to value the important things, I’d left to seek a simpler way of life.
With Makani’s beliefs, maybe I’d found it.
“It’s about the wave.” Always had been. Why I’d returned to the water. “Doesn’t matter to me whether I’m on a surfboard, sailboard, or kite.”
“You prefer short or long?”
“Depends on my mood.”
He nodded in understanding. “Trick or chillin’.”
“Exactly.”
“And the wave. Oahu’s got dozens of breaks along her north shore, from Kahuku Point to Ka‘ena Point. We’ve got a decent amount, but from now until fall, it’ll depend on the storms. Windsurfing will be your most consistent ride.”
A breeze kicked through the place, rustling papers on a table-turned-desk in the back. I caught images of design sketches on the p
ages as they settled. Curiosity drew me closer. “Mind if I have a look?”
“Go for it. Tell me what you think.”
A black lava stone sat as a paperweight on a stack of drawings. I moved it to an open wood surface area on the corner, then began flipping through the loose pages, turning each over as I went, holding them down so they didn’t fly away in the crossbreeze.
“Want a beer?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” My attention caught on an unusual offset design, a single fin jutting out from the longer side, a pair of fins angled on the other. “These are really great.”
“Enough to try out?”
Order boards, he meant. And what the hell, we’d embarked on a business journey together. And I didn’t do things half-ass. “Yeah, I’m in.”
My gaze shifted up to the cork tiles mounted on the wall. Pictures hung there, some of him on big waves.
A few looked like Jaws. “You ride this winter?”
“Fuck, yeah. El Niño churned up some monsters. Too good to pass up.” He handed me a beer, nodding at a couple of photos in the upper corner. “Bone-jarring day. Thirty-footers roarin’ down. You rip any big waves?”
“Chased a few winter storms. Didn’t have much time to catch—” I blinked hard and leaned forward, focus stuck on another picture in the center—on the girl in it.
“That Leilani?”
“Yep. She can crush it with the best of the guys.”
“Damn. And that’s Jaws?” The famous unforgiving wave erupted offshore in winter, not far from where we stood.
“Yeah, Pe‘ahi.” He called the break by its official name. “Crazy girl ordered a quiver of nine-footers. Only broke two of ‘em.”
Huh. I guzzled down a few swallows, remembering how she’d turned down perfect barrels when we’d met. Even then, instinct had pinged at me that she surfed. But… “Wow. Had no idea she was that good.”
“She doesn’t like to broadcast it. Only surfs with people she knows, trusts.”
Okay. I got that.
After turning through the last of his sketches. I flipped half of them back over, then reassessed a couple of the innovative designs, taking another long pull of beer. The name at the top of one page was “Reef Flyer,” the other, “Cobalt Dream.”
