by Sue Seabury
Embarrassment at her own ineptitude had a stronger claim on Kat’s attention. Hugo’s expression stayed neutral and every instruction patient, but she was so clumsy. It wasn’t very relaxing. Hot too, with all the jumping around.
“Sorry,” Kat said after flubbing the snap yet again.
“Try your other foot forward. Goofy stance.” he said.
“I guess I am pretty goofy.” Kat winced at her lame joke but a hint of a smile on Hugo showed the gap in his front teeth.
“It just takes practice, and some concentration. Command your feet to obey.”
Concentrating on her feet when there was so much exposed male muscle to look at wasn’t easy. Commanding herself to not act like a cougar, she said, “Right foot, march!”
Her right foot forward was no more cooperative than her left. “Looks like my feet are staging a mutiny.”
“Let’s hit the waves!” Queenie called.
A line appeared between Hugo’s eyebrows. “I’m not sure you’re—”
“Miss Kat? You ready?” Ramsey asked.
“Um, I wouldn’t mind a little more practice here on dry land.”
“That’s cool,” Ramsey said. “Hugo’s got you. Right, Huge?”
Hugo swallowed. “Yes. But I really thinkboth of them could use more—”
“Let’s go!” Queenie pranced down the beach, ample butt cheeks bouncing.
Ramsey shrugged and followed.
*
Losing Queenie’s shrill voice was one example of how a minus could sometimes be a plus. What wasn’t so great was Hugo’s frown.
“She should have practiced her snap more.” He stared intently at the water, as if willing the waves to behave.
“Oh, trust me, if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s snapping.” Kat snapped her fingers, then snapped her shoulders back, making her chest pop out. She immediately folded her chest concave; she’d shown a little more cleavage than she’d meant to. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
Hugo laughed; she relaxed. He wasn’t a slave trader and this wasn’t a sex resort. The location was dreamy and the people were nice. She was going to get her downtime and have new experiences.
And there was her goal. Easy.
Speaking of people, where were they? Besides Queenie, she had yet to encounter another guest.
“Not that I mind the personal attention,” she said, “but are we the only guests?”
Hugo looked out at the water, as if a raft of clientele might float up. “No. We also have a party of four men at the moment. They’re out fishing today.”
“How do you . . .” Why was she pestering him about how he made ends meet? That wasn’t a relaxing topic for anyone. “I’m just asking because I’ve never been to a ‘boutique resort’ before. I feel like, I don’t know, a queen, or a guest onFantasy Island.” Kat grabbed her ponytail and pulled it tight, as if she could remove years from herself by doing so. “You probably don’t remember that show. Too young.”
Hugo looked her over for a long time, probably sizing up exactly how nosy and out-of-date she was. “As a matter of fact, I do remember the show very well.” He licked his lips. “So if you see The Retreat that way, I am flattered.”
He sounded sincere. Kat seized on it. “I lovedFantasy Island. I used to watch it and dream of flying away to a tropical island where my dreams would come true.” She looked down and dug in the sand with her toes. “How naïve. The show had the right name.”
“Not at all naïve. I think it is possible. I mean, not if you want a million dollars, but people on the show weren’t looking for that. They wanted something deeper. An authentic experience. Did you finish with your goal questionnaire?”
Kat sat down on her board and scrunched her nose at him. “Um, well, Ithought I figured it out, take time to unwind and relax, try out some new experiences. But now that you’ve upped the stakes with this talk of authentic experience, I’m back to zero.”
Hugo’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “I didn’t mean for it to be stressful. My goal is to make you happy.”
Of course he knew his goal. Kat dug her toes in deeper.
“What did you dream of,” he asked, “when you watched the show?”
To meet a man who would love me and take care of me. The memory caught her by surprise. Once upon a time she did dream of that, but real life didn’t involve being whisked away to a tropical island where a magical host fulfilled your deepest desire. Anyway, marrying Darren had been practical and safe, which was exactly what she wanted at the time.
Her twenty-year marriage couldn’t be called “bad.” A touch dull perhaps, but dull was better than the “excitement” Josie got with Brandt’s revelation that he was dumping her for his twenty-two-year-old assistant, a girl who chose to spend her money on tattoos and breast implants rather than much-needed dental work.
Kat had done the dumping. Once their son was grown, it was clear the marriage was over. Carver was the number one reason she’d never regret marrying Darren. Two other reasons were stability and security, items conspicuously absent from her childhood. Knowing there’d always be food in the cupboard and a warm bed to sleep in meant a lot to Kat.
Why Darren had marriedher was the real question. She could only guess he’d wanted someone who was content with the unglamorous jobs of keeping his house tidy, producing an heir, and looking good on his arm at work parties.
Hugo was watching her. She hadn’t answered his question.
“Um, nothing really,” she said with a shake of the head. “Just got caught up in the story.”
He lifted his chin, as if to encourage her to continue.
“I mean, I just wanted to go live on the island. Work there, as a waitress or whatever. Oh, God, I can’t even get a fantasy right!” Kat covered her face with her hands.
Gentle fingers pried her hands loose. Hugo was kneeling before her. His gaze intense, he seemed about to reveal a great secret. “I consider myself to be like Mr. Roarke.”
He turned pink under his tan.
And here Kat thought her admission was embarrassing.
Yet, if there’d been a recurring female character, she probably would have identified with her. She and Josie used to bicker about who got to play vampy Pam versus sassy Lucy when they reenacted scenes fromDallas.
Hugo gathered a mound of sand with his hands and smoothed it. He cleared his throat. Definitely embarrassed. She should say something. “I liked Mr. Roarke.”
Hugo’s eyes lit up then he blushed again. He looked like a teenager about to admit he really liked musical theatre, or something equally uncool. “I think he’s a good role model. I mean, obviously, I know he’s just a character and I admire real people like my parents more. But, still, as a model for a resort host, he was excellent. Wise, and he gave people what they needed. And not just upsell them things they didn’t.” This last bit he muttered under his breath.
“Yes, Mr. Roarke was so smart,” she said. “He always knew just what to do, even if it didn’t seem like the right thing at first. And such a sexy accent, like yours.” Now it was her turn for pink cheeks.
Hugo’s lips parted into a broad grin.
“Boy, it’s hot.” She got up and moved to the shade of a palm tree. “Ehem. No business suit?” She gestured at his half-naked body. Despite the shade, she felt hotter. She leaned against a tree trunk that lay in the sand.
He came and sat next to her. “I want to belike him, not an exact copy. Anyway, sarongs and bathing suits are more comfortable than jackets and ties. And I’m never cutting my hair.” He shook his head. Wild curls bounced.
Kat laughed.
Hugo’s magnificent chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “I like the way he focused on each individual, found exactly what that person needed. That is my goal.”
Her life goals had been embarrassingly small. A baby and a comfortable home. The baby was grown and she’d tossed the other away. Now what?
“I like to help people.” She paused.
Hugo waited patiently.
“In fact, I’m a little at loose ends at what to do with myself when I’m not taking care of someone.”
Kat tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled uncertainly at him. She would not cry. Her mother had been so sick, her passing had been a blessed release. Carver leaving for college was normal and expected. Divorcing Darren, well, that needed to happen too.
A warm hand patted hers, then rested on top. It felt good: calming, encouraging. The threatening tears dried up.
Hugo cleared his throat. “It is unlikely I will ever perform life-changing services for vast numbers of people, but if I can provide happiness to a few, even one” — he blinked and looked away — “I feel my life will not have been a waste.”
Out on the water, Queenie screeched and Ramsey whooped. Hugo pulled away and looked at his hand as if it had acted of its own free will. He stood. “We should keep practicing.”
Kat didn’t trust her voice and nodded.
“Come,” he said. “I will help you find your balance.”
Those warm hands on her hips did nothing to improve her balance.
“Here, let me show you,” he said.
Hugo demonstrated, hips swaying. She tried to keep her mind on the lesson, but she couldn’t help but notice the hairlessness of his brown skin, in total contrast to the wild mass of curls up top. And how soft and touchable that skin looked.
Not in the market, she reminded herself.
“Miss Kat? Did you say something?”
“Ehem. Nope.”
The wind kept blowing Hugo’s hair into his face. He pushed it away from his mouth, but it blew right back.
“I have an extra hair band if you want it.” Kat pulled the elastic from her wrist. Having something to offer made her feel useful, which relaxed her.
Hugo hesitated, but then the wind gusted again. “I suppose I must accept.”
He struggled to fit it all in.
“Want some help?” she offered.
“I don’t need help.”
Her astonishment must have shown.
“I mean, you are my guest,” he said. “It is my job to be of service toyou.”
“It’s just a rubber band. And an extra pair of hands to help with that tornado.” Kat made swirly motions with her hands.
“You dare to call my crowning glory a tornado?” He parted his lips as if offended, but then they twitched into a smile.
“If the wig fits.”
Hugo laughed again and bent his head. “Thank you.”
“You’re going to have to sit for me to reach, Goliath.”
Her thighs brushed his back; a tickly feeling travelled up her legs, then expanded through her middle, making it hard to breathe. She backed away, only to have his hair transmit a similar sensation via her hands. Shutting her eyes and pretending he was a girl helped a little, except when the breeze blew his masculine, coconuty scent her way.
One elastic couldn’t contain his mane. She pulled out the one from her hair. “How ’bout I make two? Like ponytails, except in your case it’s going to be more like Clydesdale tails, if horses ever got a perm.”
He laughed again. “Whatever you need to do.”
Kat’s own hair was straight and her only experience with dressing other people’s was trying to make her mother’s wispy locks look less limp. She’d never come close to dealing with anything like this jungle of curls.
She wrangled Hugo’s mop into two more-or-less even halves. The ponytails were cockeyed and lumpy, but she had to stop touching it. She wished she hadn’t offered in the first place. Playing with his hair was too intimate. It made her think about running her hands over other parts of him.
“Thanks,” he said, standing on the board. “Let’s try this. You put your hands here and here.” He indicated the areas on his hips covered in tattoos.
Her heart raced at the thought of touching him again. She blurted, “So your tattoos are kind of like those footprints they put on the floor, to learn dance steps?”
Her face had to be redder than the hibiscus blossoms.
Fortunately, he laughed. “Well, I never thought of them quite like that before, but sure, why not?”
His skin was as soft and smooth as she’d imagined. What she failed to imagine was the strength of the electrical currents running from him directly into her heart.
Too young, she reminded herself.
She held on for the minimum amount of time, then shook out her hands to erase the feeling of firm muscle under his soft skin. She exhaled to remove his scent from her nose.
“I don’t have much more time,” Hugo said. “Ready?”
4
It wasn’t a question. They paddled out, Kat taking four strokes for every one of Hugo’s, but it wasn’t fair: his body was the width of the surfboard while Kat’s elbows barely reached over the sides.
Her arms ached already. She pushed on. She had to do this, not just to prove to other people she wasn’t a wimp, but for herself. She paddled harder, and felt a sense of achievement as she gained on Hugo. Successfully cresting her first wave, a little thrill of mastery rolled through her.
A second later, Queenie yelled, “I’m a-comin’! Outta my way!”
Kat paddled frantically. Queenie missed her by mere inches.
Boobs bobbling, Queenie made it to her feet, only to take a spectacular fall a second later. But the biggest show of all was when she scrambled back onto her board. Not only was her ample chest more or less completely unleashed, but her bikini bottom was hiked all the way up her rear.
“Can’t wait to see your stuff, Miss Kat!” Ramsey called out.
“Hate to disappoint, but you’re not going to be seeing any ofmy stuff,” Kat mumbled.
She heard an odd sound behind her, like a cough or snort.
Or possibly Jaws opening his mouth to swallow her whole. She whipped around.
Just Hugo, but he was much closer than she’d thought. Had he heard? The sun suddenly felt very hot.
Hugo chewed the inside of his cheek and looked pointedly over at Ramsey, using his massive arms to send signals. Kat wondered if he was using semaphore to tell Ramsey what she said.
Ramsey gave him a complicated yet phony-looking hand signal back.
“I must leave you now,” Hugo said. “But Ramsey will take good care of you.”
He paddled off before she got the chance to thank him.
Hugo caught a wave and performed a graceful swan dive at the end of his ride, then burst through the surface like Poseidon. He looked so perfectly at home, if anyone had told her hewas an ocean god, she would have believed it.
Back on shore, he shook off like a giant dog, then picked up his board as if it weighed no more than a school book. Just before he got to the tree line, he turned. She didn’t think he was looking her way, but she waved, just to be friendly. He waved back, and stayed there for a long moment. A line of goosebumps ran up her arm; the water must be chilling her.
Ramsey called out, “You ready to give it a shot, Miss Kat? There’s a good wave coming. Perfect little lady-like one.”
The wave didn’t look so little to her. Her goal of staying in one piece stood. “If it’s good for boys too, you can have it.”
Ramsey whooped and paddled into position. Something told her Ramsey wasn’t going to be a drill sergeant surf instructor, which was fine by her.
His run was showier than Hugo’s, finished off with a back flip. Kat clapped but Queenie’s wolf whistles drowned her out.
Kat was wrong about Ramsey not making her try it. He said, “You can stay on your knees if you don’t wanna stand.”
“Should I pray while I’m there?”
“Never hurts.”
The perfectly clear water showed rocks below. She’d read it was hard to judge distance in this type of water, that some people dove deeper than they realized and got the bends. Her problem would be the opposite, the rocks turning out to be too close, but she didn’t want to die on vacation, and not onl
y to prove Darren wrong.
Ramsey gave her more silly encouragements. How could anyone say no to his sing-songy “Make a mistake, take a chance, it don’t matter, just get up and dance”?
Being pushed around by waves was intimidating, but finally she caught one at exactly the right moment. Her knees straightened. She was surfing!
For three whole seconds, she was a flying fish, a graceful dolphin, a water goddess.
Then something dark moved beneath her board. She lost her balance and went headfirst into the blue. Although she wasn’t hurt beyond a thorough salt water cleanse of her nasal passages, she stayed on her knees no matter what cajoling patter Ramsey came up with. Her favorite words were when he said, “Let’s head back in.”
While she was glad she’d be able to tell Carver about her surfing adventure, she didn’t think they’d be bonding over their favorite brand of board wax. But it was nice to cross an item off her YOLO list. Added bonus: she was still in one piece.
Hugo was on the beach waiting when they came in. Kat felt a flutter in her middle she labeled surprise. He retrieved her board for her, then dropped it and gripped his hair. “Your elastics. I lost them. I’m sorry.”
She ran through her toiletries mentally. She didn’t think she’d packed extras. Annoying, but not the end of the world. Seeing his pained expression, she said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got tons.”
“Come to the gift shop and pick out whatever you like.”
“It was just a couple of elastics.”
“I insist. Anything.”
“Anything, huh?” Kat raised an eyebrow. “Got any new cars in there? ’Cause mine’s on its last legs.” She laughed, but she really didn’t want to think about engine repair bills right now.
“No cars,” Hugo said. “But anything you like in the gift shop is yours, on the house.”
“How ’bout you, Huge?” Queenie had snuck up behind them. “You in the offing?”
“No humans for sale in my shop either.”
But elsewhere on the grounds . . .? The jokes had gone far enough. Kat escaped with a ladies’ room excuse.
