Boston’s face appeared as red as hers felt, her only consolation.
He clapped his hands together. “That wasn’t awkward at all.”
“Not even a little.”
“I have our itinerary planned for the day. First, I’m taking you to this amazing waterfall nearby. Tonight, it’s back to Kalakaua Avenue because I want to show you some of the landmarks we passed the last time we were in Waikiki. And I’m going to take you to a real snazzy joint for dinner that’s right up your fancy-pants alley.”
His speech slowed as he took in her expression. She’d never been good at hiding her emotions, especially guilt. Boston put his palms flat on the tabletop. “What is it?”
“Nothing. A waterfall sounds neat.”
One eyebrow arched in question. “Neat?”
“It does, but I kind of made dinner plans. With Ryder.”
Boston’s whole face shuttered, like curtains drawing closed on a sunny day and casting shade. He shrugged and leaned back. “That’s cool. We can hit Kalakaua some other time. I’ll have you home in time for your date.”
She shoved his shoulder. “Knock it off. It’s not a date. We don’t want him to figure out we don’t trust him. Besides, he knows something he’s not telling.”
Ryder taking resources from the shelter and letting Boston pay his bail while he had money didn’t make a lick of sense, either, and she was determined to figure it out. She toyed with the idea of mentioning the odd financial angle to Boston but didn’t want to bring up the bail money. Once Boston realized she knew what he’d done with her sister’s Hilton refund, he’d likely be mortified and jump into a strained apology and needless explanation.
She didn’t want to make things uncomfortable when they were finally getting along. They’d finally reached some kind of unspoken agreement. She didn’t grimace at his red shorts, and he didn’t make jokes about her proper speech.
His pale blue eyes turned pleading as met her gaze again. “I only ask you to keep in mind we have a sound reason to doubt his intentions.”
“I know. I know. You think he might turn Kale in. I get it.”
It seemed like Boston might say more. His mouth opened, then clamped shut. He issued a half-sigh, half-groan utterance and gave her a halfhearted smile.
All halves. No wholes.
“Family’s an odd thing. Maybe he’s Kale’s cousin, but they weren’t close growing up. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, right?”
Speaking of caring… She put a hand over Boston’s. “I want you to know, Boston, I think Jordan needs you. She doesn’t come back to torture you. She comes back to feel good about herself. I believe she’s afraid of being alone with her demons. If it’s a matter of power, more of it’s in your hands than you perhaps realize.”
He offered her a tight-lipped smile in response. Silence spread thin between them.
Emily pulled her hand back. She’d probably do better to keep her opinions to herself. Until, of course, Boston needed her to fend off his ex-wife again. Emily would be there in her tights and cape, verbal jabs ready to fly like ninja stars, because she cared, too.
Boston’s hand shot out, taking possession of hers. “Know what I miss? Your dire cynicism. And I can help you get it back. Jordan’s thing is control. She gets dumped by some loser, feels powerless, and returns to someone who can’t say no to her.”
“Right. She needs you.”
“She needs to use me. She needs to tear me apart. She could do it to a hundred other guys, but I make it so goddamn easy, why would she work harder than she has to? As far as I can tell, I’m the only guy too stupid to run for the hills.”
“Until now.”
Boston slouched. “For how long?”
Emily chewed her lip. Good question. “Was Jordan always like this?”
Boston sighed and, still slumped, put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “Nope. At least Phillip says she was totally cool until their dad passed away around the time they started high school. She learned grieving and drinking at the same time and used one to cope with the other. I guess by the time the loss faded, the habit had formed. She was caught up in the lifestyle. I’ve never known her differently.”
Emily frowned. Of all the things Boston could’ve told her about Jordan, he’d said the one thing that resonated.
She gave him a sad smile. “I lost my mom over a decade ago. Not long after I graduated college. It was sudden. Unexpected. I struggled, even though I was already an adult living on my own. I cannot fathom what it might’ve been like to lose her during such a confusing time.”
Boston studied her, but she gave herself over to memories. Mom and Dad at her graduation. Her mother’s pride when Quinn signed her first publishing contract. Emily’s heart still skipped beats when she meditated too long on the loss.
“High school was a terrible, awkward time for me. If my mom hadn’t been there…” She bit her lip. “Who knows how it would’ve changed me.”
Boston’s mouth curved into a doubtful smirk, and he tugged a loose curl. “Every guy in this place has a similar story, a reason he’s here. It’s no excuse for Jordan.”
“No, of course not. But let’s say I understand her a little better.” Emily watched the man with the rice in his beard at the next table wipe his mouth and cast Akela a grateful nod when she came for his empty plate. “And pity her a lot more.”
* * * *
“You only gotta ask her to stay, you coward. She’ll do it.” Hani’s enthusiastic nod underlined his faith in the outcome. “I know she will.”
“How can I with an ulterior motive?”
Hani rolled his eyes. “You’re dense sometimes, haole. Having more than one reason don’t make it ulterior. It means there’re two good reasons for her to stick around.”
Boston pulled his hair back and tied it into a loose ponytail at his nape. “I need money. What’s the other one?”
Hani’s exasperation morphed into a sly grin. “I won’t spell it out for you, brother. But the issue ain’t whether Emily stays or goes. What matters is can we trust her alone with Ryder? More so, can we trust him with her?”
Boston hadn’t liked Ryder and Emily’s blossoming friendship from the start, but he had no desire whatsoever to delve into the cause. “What can I do? I’m her guide, not her damn keeper. You want me to ground her to her room?”
“Please do. I’d love to see her knock you on your ass.”
“My point exactly.” Boston covered his face with his hands. “I need her to stay, though. Or I need to line up another job.” He peeked at Hani through his fingers. “You find out anything about Kale yet? Like how much he’s in for? I’d like to know precisely how far down the rabbit hole I’m trying to go.”
Hani toyed with the end of his long braid. “Nothing, man. Weeks of nothing but silence ever since the first report of his debt. Either the info’s not out there, or Kale somehow shut down the rumor train once he found out it was running.”
Boston leaned back and crossed his arms. His back throbbed from the heavy lifting this morning—though he’d never complain out aloud about the dozens of boxes of canned food donations to Hani or anyone else—and his feet ached from the hike to the waterfall with Emily. They’d passed the day companionably enough, but he’d had a hard time being his usual jovial self, knowing she had a hot date waiting for her tonight.
At the moment, Emily was having dinner with Ryder at some ritzy restaurant, wearing a coral sundress with bright yellow flowers and a gold necklace so thin he only knew she had it on when the light hit it at the right angle to make it glitter against her pale skin.
Boston tried to not imagine them making out like randy teenagers. He failed. “Emily’s interest in Ryder may be genuine. Besides, who the hell am I, anyway? Ryder’s like her. At the same time, it’s probably safest if we continue under the assumption he’s been sent to collect from Kale instead of being a concerned family member.”
Hani
shook his head. “I’ll give up Spam for a year if you ain’t right, brother.”
Boston held up his hands. “Let’s not be hasty, my friend. There’s always coincidence. Could be Ryder’s just a really, really stuck-up douche who wants to help his cousin get his hot mess under control. But in case he’s not…” A shrug finished the statement.
“Right. You got it, Bos.” Hani planted his fists onto his hips. “Now, you gonna talk to Miss Emily or what?”
Boston rubbed his forehead. The day kept getting longer. “I guess I’ll have to. Listen, if you’ll wait up for her, I’m heading out. I need to think. She’ll have already spent a month here. Oahu’s only so big. If I’m going to convince her to stay, I might need to break out the big guns. Like Maui or the Big Island.”
Which, coincidentally, he needed money to pull off. It always came back to the money.
Hani cocked his head toward a group of three men across the room finishing off a late dinner. “Thompson and I still got a kitchen to clean. I’ll look in on her before I call it a night.”
“Thanks, man.” Boston stood on tired bones as Hani’s huge form disappeared down the dim hallway.
He started for the door and froze mid-stride at the sight of Jordan lounging in the entryway, one hip against the wall and her arms folded over.
Emily hadn’t been wrong. Jordan had returned, looking leaner and meaner than ever. And there was no Emily around to save him this time.
It’d be a lie to say Jordan didn’t make an impact when the mood struck her.
Her haphazard two-toned ponytail trailed from the crown of her head to rest its bleached tips just below one barely concealed breast. Bright red lipstick glistened on her full lips, and the revealing top showcased bony shoulders and exposed ribs, at odds with the unnatural roundness of her augmented breasts.
She looked like a high-price call girl.
Funny how he used to find it appealing. Now he’d give anything to have Emily walk in wearing a sundress that hinted and teased rather than told the whole story. He was burned out on retina-searing fake jewelry, teetering heels, and shorts that didn’t leave a man much to discover about a woman’s backside.
He’d learned to appreciate the small golden hoops that glinted through Emily’s curls on a bright day. He liked the peach tones she wore to accentuate her milky skin, the flat sandals she never once complained about hurting her feet, and the way she didn’t need a scrap of material stretching across her ass to draw attention to it.
Jesus, had he discovered class? What the hell had Emily done to him?
He grinned, recalling Emily’s concern for Jordan’s slightness. “If you came for a rice plate, better hurry. Hani’s packing it up.”
She gave him a tight smile. “She’s a marvel of hilarity, your little girlfriend. I daresay she could stand to lose a few.”
Even with the obvious enhancements and model-thin body, Jordan didn’t come close to enticing. Not the way the soft suppleness of Emily’s fuller figure did. “I daresay you’ve never been more wrong. Look at you, Jordan. You’re almost frail.”
“You realize she’s no different than the last one, don’t you? Once she finds out who you are, you think she’ll stick around? C’mon, Bos. We know her type. She’s like Phillip and Hani’s parents. Too good for us. Isn’t that why she’s having dinner with the tall, dark, handsome guy? He looks like he knows his way around….”
His brow quirked.
“The stock market, among other places.” Jordan blinked innocently.
Of course she’d fly an arrow directly into his weak spot.
“Emily is different. She’s not too good for anyone. Except, maybe you. You, I don’t think she’d put up with.”
Jordan’s large green eyes widened. They seemed deeper in color with a line of black drawn across the edge of her eyelids. “Oh, and you’re elevated or something? You drive around in your crappy old van, pandering to the moneyed set and believe you’re part of the club because one of them followed you home?” She snorted. “Boston, please. Imagine what will happen if it does continue with Emily. Imagine her family when she introduces you. A drunk homeless dude?”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m neither of those things.”
“Not now, maybe.”
“Not for a long time.”
She took a few strides toward him, swaying her pointed hips with each deliberate step. “I need two minutes of one-on-one time with Emily and it’s over.” She paused and assumed an exaggerated expression of deep thought. “Then again, maybe you’re playing her. I overheard Hani. You need money, Boston, but I’d never label you the type to play with a girl’s affections to get it.”
Let Jordan believe his feelings for Emily were genuine? Or let her assume his interest in Emily boiled down to dollars?
Jordan laughed. A compelling thing, that laugh. It hadn’t changed. Merriment lightened her deep green eyes, and her chin slid lazily to her chest, while she peered up at him through a thick fan of makeup-coated lashes. “Babe. You’re Honolulu’s very own Robin Hood. Hani’s Little John. Poor Emily. It’ll break her rigid little heart when she finds out.”
Boston almost laughed right back. Emily had done a damn good job of acting if Jordan believed that. “She’s not the type to scare easily, Jordan. She’s not impressed or intimidated by a strung-out bean pole with an attitude.”
Jordan’s jaw clenched. She hadn’t liked that. “I don’t need to scare her, only remind her of your differences. Besides, you’re the one I’m worried about. Emily may not be afraid of me, but you are.”
A spark of anger sizzled in his chest. She probably sensed his fear, and it pissed him off.
“Screw you, Jordan. You don’t scare me. You embarrass me. You’re a walking reminder of everything I’ve busted my ass to leave behind.” He brushed past her and outside into the moist nighttime air. A storm gathered in the north. The palms overhead whipped in the wind, and humidity clung to his body like a wet rag.
Jordan followed, like a dog with a damn bone, trailing behind him with a steady stream of bullshit spouting from her mouth.
Boston let the wind blot her out as he trekked toward his studio apartment three blocks over. The second floor of an old two-story Victorian, not much different than the place Emily rented, had a private entrance via a rickety outdoor staircase, creaky and narrow, adjacent to the main house. The family who lived below rented it to him for next to nothing because of his efforts to better the community.
Yet another thing he stood to lose by falling into Jordan’s poisonous grasp again.
He fished his house key from his pocket, which gave Jordan time to catch up. At least she’d finally shut up. The sharp angle of the roof of the house left little usable space in the upper floor, but Boston managed with a few shabby pieces of hand-me-down furniture and scant belongings.
The sudden quiet when Jordan closed the front door against the howling storm made him uneasy. He didn’t doubt his ability to withstand Jordan on a physical level, but a drink was starting to sound damn good.
“We’ve got nothing left to talk about, Jordan. You should leave. I’m not interested in anything my drunk ex-wife has to say.”
It hit him the moment the words left his mouth.
She stood by the door, silent and blinking, giving nothing away.
He squinted at her. “You’re sober. You were sober at the beach, too.” This changes everything. Doesn’t it?
Her mouth stretched into a humorless smirk. “A million and one metaphors for sobriety, but comparing myself to a judge or a monk seems wrong on so many levels.”
Emily’s voice echoed in his mind. The sudden clarity stunned him. “You need me. Emily’s right.”
Jordan snorted and fingered the open blinds as if to look outside. “No, honey, I’m—”
“Desperate? Scared of drowning alone like Emily said? Let me guess, your last boy toy finally had enough of the nonstop partying? I can’t blame the guy. Appa
rently, I’m the only idiot on this island stupid enough to ask for it. To want it, to fall apart without it.” He came toe-to-toe with her, close enough for her to read him and see he meant every word. “I’m not going down with you this time.”
Jordan’s arms had dropped to her sides. The mask fell away. Her turned-down mouth, hooded eyes, and slouched shoulders weren’t affectations. “My boyfriend left me because I quit drinking, actually, but thanks for asking.” She hugged herself and turned her back to him.
She faced the window, but Boston doubted she saw anything on the other side. “What’s going on, Jordan? Why are you here?”
“Gee, I thought your Emily had me figured out.” She sighed and started over. “I’m a wreck. I can’t eat. I’m not sleeping. I always loved being younger than you. I turned thirty-five a few weeks ago, but I look like the one turning forty this year, don’t I? I don’t recognize my face in the mirror. When Lucas and I—” She swallowed and began again. “When Lucas dumped me, I came close to giving in. I’d have him back as easy as that. Then, out of nowhere, I remembered you, Boston. It’s been a couple years, but I carry around the guilt when I’m sober enough to acknowledge it. You were doing well, you’d moved on, and I was insanely jealous. How dare you sober up and meet a nice girl? So, I crushed you.” She either grew brave enough to face him or wanted to witness his reaction, because she turned from the window to look at him.
If she expected pity, she wouldn’t find it. “Hell yeah, you did. If it weren’t for Hani, God, I’d have lost everything. Not for the first time, either.”
“At least you had someone. Who do I have? Phillip? He’s hardly going to be any kind of help. My mom is getting old, Boston. Too old to deal with me.”
She had a point. “Trying” wasn’t in Phillip’s vocabulary. Either Jordan wanted it or she didn’t, and he’d write her off with one slip.
“Jordan, I can’t help you. I’m barely standing. How can you ask me to carry you? I’m the weak one. If you cave, I won’t stop you. I’ll be right beside you, holding the damn chaser. That’s how we work. It’s how we’ve always worked.”
Relapse in Paradise Page 14
