Maybe eating had been a bad idea. The poi and the beer and the sugar seemed to be making some sort of vile concoction in her stomach. Surely that wasn’t guilt. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and she wouldn’t let Kini make her feel as though she had.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say?”
Hands balled into fists on her ample hips, Kini looked as though she might be able to call on Pele herself. Yep, it wouldn’t surprise Theo in the least if she was smited—smote? Definitely not smitten. Whatever—on her walk back to her house.
“I would say that I told Laurel not to get involved with Bobby, and she’s been smart enough to follow my advice.” There weren’t many people who would go toe-to-toe with Theo, especially when she put that haughty look on her face. But Kini had always been the exception to the rule and didn’t look like she was going to budge from her dogged stance.
“How could you? Bobby would’ve been a very good match for Laurel. No, he’s not fabulously wealthy, nor is he the most intelligent guy on the island, but he’s a genuinely good person who has a thing for your little friend. A lot of guys here would be fine to sleep with her and not think about it beyond that, because whether you like it or not, it’s unlikely that she’s going to be a permanent fixture of the North Shore or even the island. She’s going back to the mainland sooner or later, and while she’s here, she could do a hell of a lot worse than to date Bobby Martin.”
Ugh. Kini and her sense-talking. It was the worst. Theo didn’t answer, couldn’t really. She did try to look untroubled by Kini’s assessment, but it wasn’t easy. What she wanted was for Kini to leave. It was unpleasant to have someone whose judgment she usually respected—and had respected basically since she’d been alive—disagree with her so strongly. And to imply that she was doing Laurel a disservice! Could Kini go home already? But, no, apparently she wasn’t done yet.
“Also, I have to tell you that if you’ve got your eye on Brock to set her up with, that’s not going to happen. If anything, he’d fuck her and then act like it never happened. If you’re lucky, he’ll ignore her.”
When Theo opened her mouth to protest, Kini jumped back in. “I’m not saying Brock is a bad person. Who hasn’t fucked a malihini or six?”
Actually, Theo had assumed Kini hadn’t, but maybe she was wrong about that…
“My point is that Brock’s got his eye on money, okay? You see how he flirts with those rich guests he’s got at his hotel and how he’s more likely to be trying to weasel his way into one of the rich mainlander’s parties at their ridiculous second or third homes than to come to a luau like this. You mark my words, that kane is not interested in a pretty face unless it’s attached to some land or a big fat bank account. I don’t blame him, but I am telling you, Laurel’s not his type.”
Chapter Six
After wishing Kini a good night—and trying not to shake with anger while she did—Theo shoved the rest of the malasada in her mouth and stalked off to find Laurel. It was time for Theo to get home to her dad, and besides, anything good that was going to come out of tonight would’ve already happened. She didn’t want to chance anything not-so-good chasing it, which was also why she made a pit stop in the bathroom before it could fall victim to some of the more inebriated party guests and their various bodily fluids.
Luckily, when she made her way back to the big lanai, it was to see Laurel and Brock absorbed in good-natured conversation with a few other people. Nice, casual chatting, and then Brock laughed at something Laurel said. See? She’d been feeling uneasy about what Kini had said, but maybe Kini was being grumpy. What did she know about passion, anyway? It’s not like she’d ever been in a serious relationship with anyone. Theo had never seen her do anything more than flirt with people. And flirting was a strong word for it. She could be charming and amiable; she had a nice smile and a way of looking at a person when they talked that made them feel like the center of the universe for better or for worse. But flirting? With intent? No, Theo could swear she’d never seen Kini do that.
So maybe Kini was wrong about Brock and Laurel. Attraction and chemistry and lust and all that other weird stuff that seemed to factor into people falling in love didn’t mean a thing to her. Kini was far too levelheaded and sober to be influenced by such things. But that didn’t mean everyone else was, and that’s one of the things Theo was counting on. Laurel was frigging adorable, and she had a nice laugh, and she was sweet. Who wouldn’t want more of that? More specifically, why wouldn’t Brock want more of that? Theo was betting he would.
She sidled up to Laurel, careful to nudge her friend toward Brock as she made space for herself in the circle. At the first break in conversation, she made an exaggerated stretch of her arms over her head, extending them out while she yawned.
“I am about ready to call it a night. Laurel, you’ve got to be up early tomorrow, too. Ready to go?”
Laurel nodded and stifled a yawn herself. A girl standing next to her caught the yawn as well and asked if they’d mind if she walked with them.
“Let me walk you girls home,” Brock volunteered, and Theo could imagine the unalloyed pleasure of being able to tell Kini I told you so very, very soon.
The street into town had been almost empty, the tropical version of silence—birds and insects and frogs all making themselves known, as if to say you can live here too, but this was ours first—broken only sporadically by a truck or Jeep full of locals and one of the convertibles tourists liked to rent when they came to the islands. Never mind that it rained here almost every day. Approaching the border where the town became more compact, they were getting ready to head their separate ways.
Given where their tagalong Kayla said she lived, logic would dictate that she and Laurel could amble on together, and Theo and Brock were headed in basically the same direction. But Theo had something more important than logic on her side—she had a match to make. So she grabbed Kayla and tried to make the case that, after dropping her off, it would be easy to loop around to her place on top of the shop. And how hard would it have been for everyone to go along? Couldn’t they see she was trying to do a good deed here? But no. Brock volunteered that it actually made way more sense for him to head Theo’s way, and Laurel didn’t have enough sense to contradict him.
Which was how Theo found herself waving a limply unenthusiastic hand as she and Brock headed toward their part of town.
Brock was humming the last song that had been playing at the party, and all Theo wanted to do was get in bed to rest up for tomorrow. It was going to be a long day at the shop and an early morning if she wanted to get in some waves of her own before she started. Which she did, because surfing with newbies wasn’t really surfing at all. She prided herself on being a good instructor, but that’s what it was: work, not fun.
A couple of times the backs of Brock’s knuckles grazed her own, and she had to take a tiny sidestep. He didn’t seem drunk, but he was obviously a little tipsy if he couldn’t walk in a straight line. There was no reason for him to be touching her otherwise. On the next brush, Theo realized it wasn’t an accident because he actually tried to take her hand. Um, no.
But who hadn’t gotten flirtier than they should’ve after having a few too many? Theo couldn’t claim innocence of that. She’d definitely cajoled more than one person into giving her a piggy-back ride or linked arms with someone she had no real romantic interest in. But that didn’t make this cool. So she took a bigger sidestep and decided that if Brock wanted to think about getting friendly with someone, he should think about Laurel.
“Didn’t Laurel look so cute tonight? I really like her hair like that. I’m super-jealous. It’s basically immune to humidity, and rain doesn’t do anything to it.”
“Sure,” Brock agreed as he closed the gap she’d so carefully made between them. “She looked nice.”
Nice? No, no, no. Nice was for when you were saying thank you to your relatives who had sent you a sweater for Christmas, not really understanding
that there was never a good time to wear a sweater here. Also, it was probably ugly. Or at least the ones she got from the mainland Sullivans were.
“Her looks are kind of deceiving. Like, sure, if you only take a glance, she’s fine. But the longer you look, the more you realize she’s actually really beautiful. But like, a quiet kind, you know? Not like those tourists who show up here with their fake boobs and their blonde hair out of a bottle and their wardrobes that probably cost more than my car did when it was new. Like honestly, how many thousand-dollar bikinis do you really need for a week?”
“Right?” Brock stopped at the side of the road, and Theo had absolutely no intention of stopping with him, except that he circled his hand around her arm and pulled her to face him, too close for Theo’s comfort. She was in shouting distance of more than a few neighbors so she wasn’t all that worried, but he was really putting a damper on her evening. One which had already been plenty dampened by Kini being a stick-in-the-mud. “Not like you. You don’t get this at a salon.”
He reached a hand up and ran his fingers through her hair, which was shudder-inducing on its own, but had nothing on what followed. Brock actually had the nerve to grab her ass. What the fuck?
“And you don’t get this in a gym or in a studio.”
Theo gave him a good shove in the chest, and he let her go, taking a few unsteady steps back. Yes, he was drunk, and she could excuse that up to a certain point, but he’d gone too far. She could’ve let some harmless flirting go, but this wasn’t harmless anymore.
“Knock it off. I don’t want you touching me.”
“How can you say that, Theo? You’re always flirting with me, chatting me up, smiling at me. You accepted my invitation to come to the party.”
“We’re friends. Friends talk. And yeah, maybe I flirt with you sometimes, but you know I’m queer. I like the ladies. When have you ever seen me go out with a guy?”
Brock pulled a face, one of those ones where you could tell the next thing out of his mouth was going to be chockful of douchebaggery. “I thought you just hadn’t met the right man. I mean, I grant you there aren’t a ton of guys on the island worth dating, but that’s no reason to turn your nose up at all of us. Give it a try.”
He lunged at her, reaching for her waist—she hoped—and she side-stepped again. Brock was drunk enough that it took him a few steps into the grass to regroup.
“That’s, like, all kinds of gross. I’m not going to say I could never be attracted to a guy, but it is incredibly unlikely. And I can guarantee that guy isn’t you. I don’t need to give anything a try. You being disrespectful of my sexuality is rude, misogynistic, and sure as hell does not increase your already-zero chance of ever getting into my pants. Besides, I’ve been trying for weeks to get you and Laurel together.”
Theo was prepared for Brock to make another sortie into her personal space and was getting her lungs ready to yell, but instead she got a head-tilt. It was cute on dogs, but not a good look for Brock. “Laurel? You’ve been trying to set me up with Laurel?”
“Uh, yeah. And you seemed into her. Said she could be a poster girl.”
Brock’s face screwed into an even more perplexed expression. “Oh, no. You’ve got that all wrong. The only thing impressive about Laurel is how much progress you’ve made with her. I was complimenting your teaching, not her still pretty sad skills.”
Well, shitballs.
“Besides, Laurel…isn’t my type.”
If he said something racist, Theo wasn’t going to bother yelling for the neighbors. She’d straight up connect her knee with his crotch. Fucker. “And why not?”
“Girl’s got no prospects. Here, anyway. She’s never going to be able to afford a piece of land on the island. You, on the other hand…” He trailed off, looking Theo up and down in a way that sent chills wherever his gaze roamed. Ew. And it didn’t make her feel much better when he looked over her shoulder toward where the street-facing lanai of the surf shop could be seen. “Do you know what I could do with that acreage? Do you have any idea how much money we could make by knocking down that old shack and putting up a really nice boutique hotel, maybe even some condos?”
How dare he talk about her family’s business like that? It was as offensive as anything else he’d said. And yeah, she knew the value of the land the shop and their home sat on. It wasn’t like he was the first asshole to try to talk her or her father into selling it or developing it to make more money. He was, however, the first among those she counted as her friends to do so.
Asking her father to leave would be like asking him to send her out big-wave surfing. It would be as bad as killing her mother all over again. He hadn’t wanted to come out here in the first place, but after he’d settled, this was his home and fuck if she was ever going to make him leave it. Nope. Not in a million, zillion years, which was approximately when she’d consider fucking Brock, too. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, now she’d have to tell Laurel that Brock wasn’t, in fact, into her. Theo would have to come up with some other object to direct Laurel’s affections toward.
That was enough for one night. She’d had goddamn enough. So she stood in front of Brock, feet planted in the earth she’d walk for the rest of her life, arms akimbo. “You can go fuck yourself because there’s no way I’m doing it. You stay away from me, my family’s shop, and my land. You’re a snob and an opportunist, and you don’t even have good hair.”
With that one last insult that might damage his pride the most, she set off with a huff for home, where her father was surely waiting up anxiously for her.
Chapter Seven
The lights of Queen’s bakery glowed dim in the fog of the morning, and she headed toward them. She knew lighthouses were supposed to warn ships against wrecking on shores, but this was more like a homing beacon. She hurt, and when she hurt, the only place she really wanted to be was at the bakery.
She loved her father, and his reassurances were always earnest, but there was a part of her they couldn’t quite reach. Maybe because her dad was always on her side. Always. She could murder puppies—not that she’d ever do that because puppies were adorable and awesome and hurting a dog would be the worst kind of cruelty—but if she did, he’d insist she’d had a good reason for it.
Well, she felt like she’d kicked puppies, and categorical fealty wasn’t going to cut it in the making-her-feel-less-like-an-asshole department. But a stolen slice of Kini’s matcha cheesecake might do it. Worth a shot. And if it didn’t work, then she would’ve gotten some cheesecake out of it.
Not bothering with the front door, Theo headed straight toward the back where the dim light grew brighter, and the music and smells of the bakery wafted out the screen door in equal measure. Kini was singing too, and Theo took a minute to lean against the wood-slatted wall to enjoy it. Her voice was pretty. Not in a radio-play kind of way, but lovely and special nonetheless and Theo didn’t want to share. If anyone else wanted it, they could get up at the ass-crack of dawn, which was the only time Kini sang her heart out.
When the song was over, Theo climbed the steps and opened the screen door, careful not to let it slam because Kini had been lecturing her about that for the better part of her life.
Kini hadn’t done up her hair yet, and it was tied into a knot that draped down her back. She was flattening out a pile of dough with her hands, and when Theo came in, she didn’t even look up.
“Wash up and then you can help.”
Theo did as she was told, scrubbing her hands in the sink after making sure her hair was tied back in way that wouldn’t get into the food. Then she went to stand by Kini, who had moved on to flattening out the dough with a rolling pin. Malasadas. She’d helped with these before, knew the routine. Waited for Kini to get the dough thin enough and then took up the knife Kini had laid out and started cutting squares and placing them on the waxed paper already rolled out on the counter.
They worked in silence for a while, Kini heating up the big vat of oil and prepping the cinnamon
and sugar for the pastries that were already cut and had had time to rise. Plain, then. Not her favorite, but the easiest for people who didn’t know any better to try. Some of them, they’d get more adventurous and get to the really good stuff. Lilikoi. Haupia. Poi. Most of them would leave too soon.
Regardless. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Pick up a square, put it down. Pick up another square, put it down three inches away on the waxed paper. Cut, cut. Repeat, repeat. It was soothing. Orderly. She kept at it, letting her mind wander. No, not wander. More like clear. Not think about any of the crap that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
When Theo had finished filling the sheet, she used a pair of scissors to slice the waxed paper, let Kini move them onto an oversized baking sheet and swap them out for the lumps of dough that had been rising on a shelf. Those she put to the side of the vat of oil, and then she took up each one, laid them paper-side up in the hot oil until they were golden brown, stripped the paper off, and then turned them over.
Hot, she’d take them out and shake them in the cinnamon and sugar before laying them aside.
“Don’t stop,” Kini said.
Theo didn’t dare. She kept at it until all the dough was gone, cut into squares. When only a sad small lump was left, she handed it to Kini, not bothering with the paper or letting it rise. Kini tossed it into the oil, let it bubble and soak and churn, and then fished it out to put in the pan of cinnamon and sugar. Still hot and denser than the fluffy things that would be for sale, she handed it to Theo who ate it, bite by bite, not minding so much that it burned a bit. It was that good: a sweet, secret, private treat, hers alone to savor.
When all the donuts had been sifted out of the cinnamon and sugar and laid out in orderly rows on their tray, Kini looked at her.
If I Loved You Less Page 5
