by Talia Hunter
Rosa had never failed at anything — nothing that mattered, anyway — and she damn well wasn’t about to start now.
Shrugging off his gaze, Rosa turned to Mere. “Let’s not stand around talking when there’s so much work to do. Could you please tell me if Bure Five is ready? The guest booked into that room is waiting at the bar to be shown where to go. And is there someone on staff who usually handles luggage? Her suitcase is on the wharf.”
Mere blinked. Then she flashed Rosa a quick, conspirator’s smile. “Bure Five is ready. And Winston usually handles the bags, but he’s busy with the burst pipe.”
“Then I’ll go and collect it.” Rosa made a move toward the door.
“Fine.” Dalton’s voice was tight. “You’re hired for now, but don’t get too comfortable.” He motioned toward the offices behind the reception desk. “That’s Tiny’s office, so you may as well use it. Mere can show you what she knows, and later I’ll take you through everything else.” He grabbed the machete from the reception desk and strode toward the door.
Rosa stared after him. Her dislike of him was only heightened by the fact he looked so good when he was walking away. His faded jeans were slung low on his hips, and he had the most drool-worthy ass she’d ever seen. The way his tight butt cheeks moved held her hypnotized. The machete by his side only completed the picture of a rough-yet-delicious freebooter.
Mere was watching him too. As the door closed behind Dalton, she shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know why he didn’t want to hire you, or why he thinks cancelling bookings is a good idea. Now that you’re here, we can handle things, can’t we? There’s no reason to let our guests down.”
“Of course. Tiny doesn’t want to cancel bookings, does she?”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s her resort, so let’s keep everything going. Her brother doesn’t need to know. And I’d like to see Tiny right away. Will you take me to her?”
Mere raised her eyebrows. “If he catches you…?”
Rosa snorted. What was he going to do, spank her? “I need to know she’s okay, so I’ll take the chance.”
“Then come with me.” Mere gave Rosa a wink. “Oh, and in case Dalton forgot to say it, welcome to Lantana Island.”
3
Rosa opened the door of the darkened bedroom. There was a shape in the bed, but she couldn’t tell if the person was asleep.
The room was filled with vases of flowers. There were hibiscus and frangipanis, with lots of other brightly-colored blooms. When she eased inside, their floral perfume was like going into a florist shop. Was it Mere who’d filled Tiny’s room with flowers? If so, it was a lovely gesture.
Rosa crept in with the bottle of champagne in her hand. If Tiny was asleep, she’d leave the bottle on the dresser and go. But as she put it down, the person on the bed stirred.
“Hi Tiny,” whispered Rosa, going to the side of the bed.
Tiny was pale, with dark shadows under her eyes. She blinked sleepily, then focused on Rosa and gave her a little one-sided smile. “You came.” When she spoke, Tiny’s mouth didn’t move the way it used to. The right side of her face dragged down a little, and the words came out slow and slurred.
Rosa’s heart clenched. Tiny had spent her school years in a blur of activity. As well as her packed schedule of after-school art classes and her obsession with science fiction movies, she’d studied hard and done well in class. Now there was a fragility and stillness to her, as though her life force had been drained away.
“‘Course I came,” Rosa said lightly. “But I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosa murmured, sitting on the side of the bed.
Tiny moved over to give her more room, and Rosa watched the awkwardness of the movement, trying to figure out what seemed so wrong about it. It was only when Tiny reached behind her to hitch up her pillows that Rosa realized she wasn’t moving her right arm.
When Mere had called Rosa, asking her to come, she’d said Tiny’s muscles were weak down one side. But her right arm seemed worse than just weak. It hadn’t moved at all.
Rosa swallowed. She was used to seeing dried smears of paint on Tiny’s hands and under her fingernails. Now her right hand lay limp and clean. The sight was far worse than the weakness in her friend’s face.
“Hey,” said Rosa. “I brought the bubbles.” She motioned to the champagne on the dresser, already wondering if she’d made a mistake bringing it. The bottle had become a tradition she and Tiny had kept up over the years, born from a late-night conversation they’d once had. Champagne had been flowing at the time, and they’d pinky-sworn to always drink the stuff together, in good times and bad. Like Winston Churchill had said, in victory they deserved it, and in defeat they needed it.
That had been a lot of years ago, and whenever either one of them had been low, the other had been there with both support and bubbles, at least in spirit. Even if it was only their tradition of saying “Cheers” at the end of a phone call instead of goodbye.
But now bringing the bottle seemed like a mistake. Would Tiny ever be well enough to share a glass with her again? Maybe Rosa had miscalculated, and the bottle would be a reminder of what Tiny had lost.
“Anyway.” Rosa stepped in front of the dresser to block the bottle from Tiny’s view. “Can I get you something? A glass of water?”
Tiny shook her head and shifted again, readjusting her pillows. She looked exhausted, and Rosa felt a pang of guilt. No wonder Dalton hadn’t wanted her to see her friend today.
“I only arrived about an hour ago,” Rosa said brightly, her cheerful tone horribly forced. “And I’m already in love with the place. It’s even more beautiful than I thought it’d be.”
“Glad you’re here.” Tiny closed her eyes slowly, as though they were too heavy to hold up.
“I am too. But you should get some more sleep now, okay? I’ll come back and have a proper visit tomorrow.”
As Rosa turned for the door, she noticed some darker-colored squares on the walls that showed where pictures must have once hung. Tiny’s own paintings, probably, if her friend’s old bedroom in Sydney was any indication. But the walls in this room were now bare. If pictures had been hanging here, why had she taken them down?
Rosa faltered when her brain connected the dots. Tiny’s right arm wasn’t working properly. For most people that would be bad enough, but Tiny had lived for her art. If she couldn’t draw or paint, what would she do?
“You met my brother?” asked Tiny in that slurred, exhausted tone.
Rosa turned back to the bed. “I did. But he didn’t seem pleased to see me.”
“We need you.”
“Not according to him.”
The good side of Tiny’s mouth twitched, in a movement that a little optimism might let Rosa interpret as the shadow of a smile. “Since when do you listen?”
Rosa laughed more enthusiastically than she would have if she wasn’t trying to hide the fact that tears were suddenly pricking behind her eyes. Bad enough seeing Tiny so pale and weak, but to glimpse even the faintest hint of Tiny’s old humor and spark was a heartbreaking reminder of the energy that used to radiate from her.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I don’t plan to listen. I don’t scare easy, remember?” Well, that used to be true. Before Otto. “I’m going to stay and run this place just as well as you would,” she told Tiny. “Don’t worry about anything, okay?”
Tiny closed her eyes again. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” whispered Rosa. “Sleep well.”
She slipped out of Tiny’s room and stood for a moment in the hall of Tiny’s little house. There were more marks on the walls here that told her two paintings had been taken down. Down the hall was a closed door. The bedroom where Dalton was staying, perhaps? Rosa took a step toward it, almost curious enough to risk easing the door open and peeking in. But she stopped herself, glancing toward the front door.
If Dalton came in right now and caught her, it wouldn’t improve his opinion of her.
Instead, she put her head into the living room, where it looked like three more paintings had been removed. The place was simple but feminine, with cream walls, floral curtains, and bright cushions on the cane furniture. She could imagine Tiny picking out the colors with her artist’s eye. On the coffee table, a wooden carving of a bird in flight took pride of place. And on the book case was a photo of Tiny and Dalton. He had an arm thrown across her shoulders and both were smiling. Rosa stepped forward for a closer look. The picture obviously hadn’t been taken on Lantana, because they were wearing warm jackets. Sydney, perhaps? Tiny occasionally went back to visit the aunt and uncle who’d raised her. Each time, she and Rosa had met up to share some champagne and laughter. But now those two things seemed a long way away.
Rosa lifted her finger to gently brush across the glass of the photo frame. It was hard to believe the man in the picture was the same one she’d just met. She couldn’t stop staring at the shape of his dark eyes, creased in the corners by the warmth of his smile. The Dalton in the photo looked like the kind of guy everyone would gather around at parties, because he’d tell the best stories. His charisma shone right out of the frame.
So how come she’d met the darker, meaner version of Dalton? Did he have an evil pirate twin? Or had his sister’s illness punched him in the guts hard enough to drive that gorgeous smile away?
Rosa felt a twinge of guilt for christening him Captain Ass-Wipe. She hadn’t realized how low Tiny was. Seeing her like that had been a shock. It had to be tough for her brother.
She took one final look at the photo, then let herself out of the house. As she stepped onto the shell path outside, a tall figure came barreling around the corner, almost colliding with her. He grabbed her arms, and Rosa found herself a few inches from Dalton’s naked chest.
He smelled good. Sweaty, yes. But manly. A musky, hard-work, fresh-air smell that spoke to something primal, deep inside her. The smiling, protective man from the photograph was fresh in her mind and she had a sudden urge to nestle her face into his neck. She wanted to feel the safety and reassurance of a man’s large arms. To have him murmur in her ear that everything would be okay.
Until she raised her eyes and saw the frown that darkened his handsome features.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was rough. “Didn’t I say Tiny was too tired to see you today?”
“I only stopped in for a moment.” She stepped backward, jerking free of his grip. To her horror, a single tear managed to break free and rolled, hot and heavy, down her cheek.
Dammit, the last thing she wanted was for him to see her upset. She swiped the thing away. She was Rosa Roughknuckles, the best resort manager in the South Pacific, and she’d come to save the damn day, not fall apart in front of him.
He was still frowning, but when he spoke again, his voice was a little gentler. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” It came out loud and angry, so she stopped and dragged in her breath. “It’s just that I didn’t realize the stroke had affected her like that.”
“Like what?”
Rosa blinked hard, forbidding any more tears from daring to follow the first one. “Does she have any movement in her arm?” she asked.
“Not much.”
“Will she get it back?”
“Not without proper treatment.”
“What happened to her paintings?”
Dalton’s mouth tightened. “She wanted me to put them in a sack, weigh it down with rocks, and throw it off the end of the wharf.”
“Oh my God. You didn’t do it?”
“Of course not.” For the first time, he seemed to relax a little. His voice softened, as though he’d finally decided she wasn’t the enemy. “Well, it wasn’t like she could walk all that way to check. She doesn’t think she’s ever going to be able to paint again. I keep telling her not to give up. But the truth is, it’ll take time, lots of rehab, and hard work. Even then, she’ll need to beat the odds.”
“Can she walk?”
He nodded. “She’s finding her balance again. Her ankle’s weak, so she needs a brace. And I had to break the bad news that she can’t run any more marathons. You can imagine how upset she was.”
The joke was so unexpected, Rosa let out a surprised noise that was little more than a snort. As active and busy as Tiny had always been, she’d hated sport of any kind. Imagining her wanting to run a marathon was like picturing a fish wanting to climb a mountain.
Tiny had always had a wicked sense of humor. Could Dalton have one too?
“I told her I’d come back and see her again tomorrow,” said Rosa, testing the water. Maybe Dalton wasn’t such an ass-wipe as she’d first thought.
“The therapist isn’t coming tomorrow, so you can stop in anytime. She’s usually got more energy in the morning.”
“Okay.” She motioned toward the reception building. “I’d better get to work.”
He stood aside to let her pass. She could probably call that progress. At least Dalton seemed to have accepted she was going to work here, and didn’t tell her to go home. It wasn’t much to be thankful for, but right now it was all she had.
4
Dalton watched Rosa hurry away down the shell path, her sandals crunching on the shells.
She was slender, with a hint of curves where it counted. Long, graceful legs. Pretty, sure. But she’d ignored the one thing he’d asked of her and woken Tiny when she needed to sleep.
If Rosa had thought she’d take advantage of Tiny’s illness to score herself a fun job on a tropical island doing whatever the hell she wanted, she was dead wrong. That she hadn’t even tried to hide the champagne she’d brought with her pretty much said it all.
She could stick around to help out for a week, maybe two. But as soon as the resort was sold, Rosa would be on a plane home.
And so would he and Tiny. He couldn’t wait.
There was no place in the world Dalton hated more than the Lantana Island Resort, yet here he was in this loathsome hell hole. Making the best of it.
Okay, so making the best of it meant stomping around like a grizzly bear with a wasp nest stuck to its ass, but who could blame him? Being stuck on this cursed island, unable to get treatment for hours, was the reason Tiny’s stroke had done so much damage. The Lantana Island Resort kept demanding more blood from his family. Hadn’t they already given it enough?
It wasn’t until Rosa had disappeared around a curve in the path that Dalton went into the house and peeked in through his sister’s bedroom door. Tiny was in bed with her eyes closed. At least she wasn’t curled up with her face to the wall. Or crying. He hated it when she cried.
He hadn’t meant to wake her again, but when the door creaked, she opened her eyes and lifted her head to see who was there.
“Hey, sis,” he said, going inside. “How are you feeling?”
“I saw Rosa.” Amazingly enough, his sister gave him a smile.
Dalton raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t seen her smile in ages. “You didn’t tell me you’d hired someone.” He kept his tone mild. The last thing he wanted was to upset her, especially if her mood had lifted.
“Need someone to help run this place.”
“You’re not supposed to worry about anything. Leave the resort to me and concentrate on getting well.”
She eyed his bare torso. “You’re sweaty.”
He nodded. He could easily have paid someone to do the work, but there wasn’t a gym on Lantana and he needed to work off his agitation. Besides, the harder he worked, the less he thought about the past. Putting in a hard day’s physical labor made it easier to fall asleep at night.
“I’ve been clearing overgrown sections of the path,” he said. “Got to get the place looking nice to sell it.”
She let out a long sigh. “Don’t want to sell.”
“You need proper treatment.” Though they’d had this discussion several times alread
y, Dalton kept his tone gentle.
“Doctors here are good.”
Dalton shook his head. He’d arranged for as much therapy as was available here, but Fiji was too small to have a dedicated treatment and rehabilitation center. He sat on the side of the bed and took her hand. “Let me take you home, sis.”
“You don’t have a home.”
True enough. But that needed to change. He couldn’t just think of himself anymore.
“We’ll make a home,” he said. “I’ll get us a nice place overlooking Sydney Harbor that’s close to the rehab center. You’ll have the best care available, and you’ll get better.”
“You’d settle down?” She sounded surprised. “For me?”
He had to force a smile so she wouldn’t see how the question cut him. They may not have seen each other often enough since they’d gone to Australia as children, but she was still his sister. He’d let her down when he’d got himself sent to boarding school, but now he had the chance to make things right, he was ready to make any sacrifice necessary. He’d move heaven and earth if it would help her get well.
“Why not?” He kept his tone light.
“We don’t have to sell Lantana. Could leave Rosa in charge. Come back after…”
“Then all you’d do is worry about the resort.”
Besides, Tiny could never come back to Lantana. Not when the nearest medical care was a couple of hours away by boat. If Tiny couldn’t face the truth and accept her life could never be the same, she left him no choice but to make the hard decisions for her.
She sighed again. Her eyes didn’t so much close as drag themselves down slowly as though they had weights attached.
“You’re tired.” He moved to leave. “Sleep now, and I’ll come back later.”
“Sleeping too much.” It was little more than a whisper.
“Don’t fight it. Your body’s trying to heal. I’ll see you later, okay?”
He was walking to the door when he saw the bottle of champagne on the dresser. Crossing to it, he picked it up. It had to be the bottle he’d seen in Rosa’s bag. But why leave it in Tiny’s room?
