Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Other Books by Rachael Anderson
About Not Always Happenstance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
Author's Note
Coming Next . . .
Power of the Matchmaker Series
Prequel novella
About Rachael Anderson
Acknowledgements
© 2016 Rachael Anderson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. The opinions and views expressed herein belong solely to the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of HEA Publishing, LLC. Permission for the use of sources, graphics, and photos is also solely the responsibility of the author.
ISBN: 978-1-941363-14-0
Published by HEA Publishing
Other Books by Rachael Anderson
Novels
Working it Out
The Reluctant Bachelorette
Meet Your Match Series
Prejudice Meets Pride
Rough Around the Edges Meets Refined
Stick in the Mud Meets Spontaneity
Novellas
Righting a Wrong
Twist of Fate
The Meltdown Match
for Jeff,
my perfect match
About Not Always Happenstance
Lani has lived in Hana, Hawaii for five years. She's learned to surf, fish, dive, and manage her grandmother's bed and breakfast. She's also learned to take one day at a time the way it should be taken--relaxed and unrushed, savoring every moment.
But, like a large wave on the brink of breaking, her life is about to crash out of control. A proposal of marriage, a conniving grandmother, a cryptic Asian woman, and a handsome guest, and suddenly everything calm begins to churn, everything clear becomes confused, and all that was normal segues into peculiar.
As Lani struggles against the current to hold her ground, she realizes that she can either continue to fight and eventually lose, or take a take a leap of faith, hold her breath, and ride the wave wherever it takes her.
Sao Miguel Island, Azores, Portugal
6:00 AM
Time to go.
Easton shoved the last of his toiletries in his travel bag and walked through the small, one-bedroom apartment to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Laptop, check. Phone in his pocket. Drawers empty, nothing under the bed, bathroom cabinet clear.
He glanced around the room one last time before he slung his laptop bag over his shoulder, picked up his large duffle, dug the keys to his rental car from his pocket, and opened the door to pouring rain. It came down in sheets, blurring the normally lush, tropical gardens that surrounded the tiny cottage he’d called home for the past three months.
Apparently Sao Miguel wasn’t happy to see him go.
Squinting through the murk, he took a deep breath and bolted in the direction he’d parked the car. A push of the remote button caused his headlights to blink, and the trunk popped open. He tossed everything in the back, slammed it closed, then ducked inside, pulling the driver’s door shut behind him. His shorts and hoodie were soaked and would probably remain that way for a while.
Only then did he see a little blue Peugeot parked directly in front of him, blocking the only way out.
“Going somewhere, meu xodó?”
Easton jumped and swung his gaze to the side. Samah sat in the passenger seat, arms folded, back straight, jaw taut. Her dark brown eyes fumed at him through the gloomy, early-morning light. She looked as put-together as she always did: long, wavy black hair, pullover top, skinny jeans, and heeled sandals. But instead of the easy smile she usually wore, her plush, kissable lips had tightened into a straight, angry line.
Easton looked away and ran his hand across the back of his neck, giving it a quick massage. He’d begun traveling at the age of twenty, and after eight years of experience, he’d learned that goodbyes should be treated like an expired passport—avoided at all costs. They were awkward, uncomfortable, and when a woman was involved, typically tearful and dramatic, though he didn’t understand why. Each and every woman he’d dated had known from the beginning that he didn’t plan to put down roots—at least not deep ones. That was one of the reasons he never let relationships move beyond a certain point. When it was time for him to leave, he needed to be able to uproot himself easily and move on. Staying was never an option.
Unfortunately, no matter how clear he tried to make that, the few goodbyes he’d attempted earlier in his travels had ended in disaster. When Mali from Thailand had served him a sharp slap to the cheek and threatened to send her father after him, Easton had decided that goodbyes weren’t for him. It was so much easier and less painful to leave the way he’d come—quietly, without fanfare, incident, or emotions.
How had Samah known he was leaving this morning? How long had she been sitting in his car? He probably should have locked the doors, but the near-zero crime rate in the Azores had gotten him out of the habit, not that it would have mattered if he had. Her car now blocked the only exit, so a confrontation would have happened regardless.
“Well?” the shrill voice came again, her Portuguese accent stronger than before. Samah was beautiful, passionate, and adventurous. It’s what had attracted him to her in the first place. Her small and lithe body could scurry up and down mountains, leap from the tops of waterfalls, and dive deep below the surface of the ocean. Those petite arms could wind around him in a way that made kissing her its own adventure. His time with her had been the equivalent of a thrill ride. Exciting and exhilarating but now… over.
“Samah, you knew my visit here was only temporary,” Easton tried, hoping her hands would stay where they were—tucked under her arms.
They didn’t. They flew into the air in a dramatic gesture. “You like to see the world for… pesquisa. Si, I know.” Although Samah had a strong grasp of the English language, many words still eluded her, like “research.” Easton had filled in the blanks and translated for her more than a few times over the past few months. It was one of the things that had attracted Samah to him. Win-win, right? He’d helped her with English, and she’d introduced him to the lay of the land, so to speak. Why then did she look so angry, so ready to pounce and do some serious damage to his face?
“But no goodbye? Who leaves with no adeus?” Her finger jabbed his way, and Easton had to force himself not to flinch. “A coward, that’s who.”
Coward? Whoa. That was hitting below the belt. Easton was no coward. He was more of an… avoider, a getter-out while the going�
�s still good.
He wiped his palms across his soaked shorts, which did more harm than good. Like this conversation. “Samah, I don’t like goodbyes. All the sadness and tears and… well, it isn’t for me.”
Her anger came back in a flash. “I would not cry for any man.”
She could say that now because she was angry. Last night, however, after the long, passionate kiss they’d shared, tears would have been a sure thing. Easton would bet his beloved Manny Ramirez-signed baseball on it.
“What would you have done?” he asked.
“I would hug you and kiss you and say I would miss you and ask you to write. I would give you a… adequado goodbye.”
Easton lifted an eyebrow. She seemed less mad now, more like her usual self. Maybe this didn’t have to be as awkward as he thought. Maybe it could actually end on a good note.
He shifted in his seat. “Believe it or not I am going to miss you, Samah. We’ve had fun together, haven’t we?”
She shook her head, her jaw still taut. “We had more than fun, meu xodó. I gave you some of my heart. My family took you in and fed you. We showed you our country and culture. And this is how you thank us? Thank me?”
As much as Easton hated goodbyes, he hated this more. The guilt. The reminder that he had, in a way, used Samah, just like he’d used many women along the way. He dated them for their knowledge of their homelands, for their beauty and spirit, and for the companionship they offered. Not once had Easton considered anything long-term with anyone. His Facebook, Twitter, blogging, and Instagram “friends” consisted of family, a few close friends, and readers. He didn’t have time to stay in touch with everyone he met along the way. And what would be the point anyway?
“You’re right, Samah,” said Easton. “I should have said goodbye. I’m sorry.”
Her palm flashed to his cheek and smacked him hard. He clenched his jaw to keep from cursing.
“You should be sorry,” she said. “No, I would never cry for you, but I hope one day you give your heart to someone. To…” She groped for the right word. “How do you say: I give to you, you give to me?”
“Exchange?”
“Si.” She nodded. “To exchange hearts is beautiful and lovely. It makes you feel…” Her palms covered her heart as she searched for the words to explain, saying finally, “More than full. Bigger than yourself.”
Easton nodded, pretending like he understood, like he knew what she was talking about. But he’d never felt that way about a woman before. Maybe it wasn’t in his chemical makeup. He’d always considered his life both adventurous and fulfilling as is, but Samah made him wonder if he was missing out on something.
“And when it happens,” added Samah, apparently not finished, “I hope she breaks your heart.”
The passenger door opened and she swung out of the car. At some point during their conversation, the rain had let up and only a misty sprinkle remained. Mother Nature had always seemed to love Samah. Easton had the crazy feeling that if he got out of the car, the rain would rush down in torrents on him and him alone.
“Adeus, Easton Allard.” The door slammed shut, and a fiery Portuguese woman with flawless skin and a good heart walked out of his life.
For the first time since he’d begun traveling, Easton felt a pang of something. Loss maybe? Dissatisfaction? Loneliness?
No. Easton wasn’t dissatisfied with his life. He was alone when he chose to be and not alone when he didn’t. He wasn’t lonely. But as he watched the little blue car speed away, he felt something foreign, something that had more of a taste than a name.
Sour.
Squirming, Easton quickly turned the key and started the engine, feeling a sudden anxiousness. It was definitely time to go home.
About a month later
“Marry me.”
Derek’s warm breath tickled Lani’s neck as the meaning of the words sent a scattering of goosebumps down her spine.
She gasped and drew back, eyes wide and mind whirling. She searched Derek’s face, saw the hope in his blue eyes, the determination of his jaw, felt his earnestness in the tight way he held her. A fan of old Cary Grant movies, the day Lani had first met Derek Fulstrom in her freshman biology class at California State University, he’d reminded her of the actor. Tall, dark hair, chestnut eyes, the adorable way he shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head when he didn’t know what to say. Even his approach to their relationship had been old-fashioned. They’d dated all through college, and he hadn’t kissed her until the end of their junior year.
Derek was a rock—her rock. Nine years into their relationship and 2,500 miles later, his patience, support, and friendship never wavered. He’d always been a phone call, text message, or plane ticket away.
Right now he was a breath away.
Marry me. The words buzzed through Lani’s mind like a current.
She continued to search his eyes, wondering how long he’d been thinking about this. Knowing the slow, methodical way he made decisions, probably a few years, and yet Lani felt blindsided. She’d thought this embrace, like all the others during the past five years, meant “See you in another six months” not “Marry me.” But now that she thought about it, she probably should have seen the writing on the wall. During the past year, Derek had hinted more and more that he was ready for her to move back to her hometown of Carlsbad, where she’d be a mere forty miles away from where Derek now lived in Mission Viejo.
But Lani wasn’t ready to move back. Hāna had become home, and the thought of leaving her grandmother made her chest clench.
“Derek, I…” Words failed her.
His hands moved from her waist to her upper arms, where they held her in a firm grip. “Your grandmother has been back on her feet for over two years. Two years, Lani. She will be okay on her own. How much longer are you going to put your life on hold for her?”
“She needs my help. She—”
Derek was shaking his head. “There are others who are happy to help. You know the people of this town are here for her, and Maaike has offered more than once to take over for you.”
He was right. Puna didn’t need her, not really. And yet every time Lani considered moving back, something tugged on her to stay. Actually, it was stronger than a tug. Her heart had rooted in Hāna and refused to budge.
For two years, Lani had been conjuring up excuses to remain in Hāna because she didn’t want to leave. What would she do back in Carlsbad, anyway? Start her own bed and breakfast? Hardly. California was saturated with hotels, resorts, vacation rentals, and everything else. It would take a miracle to make something happen there, and Lani didn’t believe in miracles.
The only lure that even tempted her back was Derek. Her two older brothers had long since married and moved away, and after her parents had split several years before, only her workaholic mother remained in Carlsbad. Her father, a popular motivational speaker, had been on the road since Lani could remember. The last she’d heard from him was a postcard from England for Christmas.
“Lani, it’s time to come home,” said Derek, pulling her attention back to him. “Please.”
“I am home, Derek,” she whispered.
But he didn’t understand. The hurt in his expression conveyed that much. His hands fell from her arms, and his voice flattened. “I assumed ‘home’ would mean being with me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lani said quickly. Hurting Derek was the last thing she wanted to do.
“How did you mean it then?”
“Only that Puna has taught me what family means, and Hāna has come to feel like home. My ties here have nothing to do with my feelings for you.”
Derek sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze moving toward the ocean where the sun was still rising. His plane would depart in a little over three hours, which meant he’d have to leave soon. But how could he drive away with so much still to say?
“What are your feelings for me?” he asked.
Lani blinked, wondering how
to answer. He’d never been so blunt before. “I love you. You know that.”
“Why do you love me?”
“Because you’re good and kind and strong and my best friend. Because I care deeply about you.”
“You could say the same thing about Puna. Or even Ahi.”
Lani didn’t understand. What did he want her to say? Wasn’t that the definition of love?
“Why do you love me?” she asked, turning the question around.
His expression softened, and he tucked some of her long, dark hair behind her ear before his palms immediately framed her face, touching her tenderly. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Your face fills my thoughts every moment of the day. Your laughter makes me happier. Your smile makes me weak. Your touch makes me yearn for more. I admire the way you meet life head-on with optimism and grace, the way you packed your bags and flew across the ocean because a woman you knew only as a distant grandmother needed your help.” He paused. “But now it’s my turn, Lani. I need you. And I need to know if you need me too.”
His words warmed her heart, and his confidence quieted her mind. “Yes,” Lani breathed. Her feelings may not run as strong and deep as his did, but she loved him more now than she had five years ago. If she put her focus back where it belonged—on him—maybe in another year or two she’d catch up.
Derek was right. It was long past time for him to become her home.
“Give me a few weeks to say my goodbyes and tie up some loose ends, and I’ll move back to California.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word “home” just yet.
Derek’s lips lifted into a contagious smile, and he pulled her tight against him, kissing her with passion and the promise of a bright future. “As soon as you get home,” he murmured against her lips, “we’ll go ring shopping and make it official. Okay?”
“Sounds great.” Lani’s spirits lifted as the glow of his happiness embraced them both. He laughed. She laughed. He smiled, and so did she. For a moment, everything felt right.
Not Always Happenstance (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 1
