Impossible Love: An Unforeseen Destiny Novel Book One

by Kimberly Readnour

  “I hope you enjoy your stay. Kauai can be‌…‌magical.”

  I face forward and catch sight of Paul’s sideways glance. His eyebrows squish together, and he looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Fuck! Magical? Why the hell did I say that? I think Kamp’s cheesiness is contagious. I remain tight-lipped the rest of the drive to the launch site.

  “Remember to paddle along the north side once we take off,” I say after everyone launches safely into the river. To reinforce the fact, I point to the deck boats and a big tour boat that’s floating down the river. “It’s imperative to give them the right away, to assure our safety.”

  They nod in understanding, and I give the green light to begin, motioning for the older couple to take off first. That bastard is taking the lead, getting as far away from Kayla as possible. I hang back to make sure everyone clears the channel into the river. Boats pass through here, which has me constantly watching. The last thing I want is for someone’s kayak to capsize. Or worse yet, be hit by a boat. Killing off paying customers won’t settle too well with the touring company.

  I scan the group to ensure everyone’s paddling correctly and staying toward the right. My gaze inadvertently strays to Kayla. She’s perched in front of the kayak with sunbeams cascading around her. It’s picture-perfect. Or it would be if they were paddling correctly. Shifting my kayak to the left, I propel toward them to repeat the instructions I said earlier. I’ve learned once people launch into the water, they have a hard time applying the concepts.

  “When the point of your kayak starts veering too far toward the left, bring the left paddle down in the water.” I wait for them to demonstrate correctly and then encourage, “Yes, like that. Okay, now it’s pointing too far to the right, so make the adjustments by paddling on the right side.” They follow my instructions precisely and have the concept down, but I don’t want to quit talking to her. “Okay, left‌…‌left‌…‌now right. Okay.”

  Kayla and her mom know what they’re doing, and I really should leave them alone, but I can’t seem to make myself go. Not yet. I begin to ramble.

  “The farther along we go, you’ll gain more confidence with each stroke. On the way back from the waterfall, you’ll be an expert and will be able to relax more.”

  “I doubt that,” Kayla says.

  “You will, just wait.”

  Ah, that draws a shy smile, along with a faint blushing to her cheeks. Wait. That shouldn’t make me happy. I don’t like shy girls.

  Halfway down the river, I sneak a few peeks at Kayla. It’s only to check if she’s rowing correctly. At least, that’s my excuse. But soon, those quick glances develop into lingering stares. And I can’t seem to help it.

  The appreciation displayed across Kayla’s face as she takes in the surrounding river sights mesmerizes me. It’s fucking beautiful. The level of wonder in her eyes makes me appreciate my job tenfold. There’s no denying I love what I do for a living. Being raised on this river, it’s only natural that my career revolves around it. But seeing this natural beauty every day makes me forget the awesome feelings when discovering it for the first time. It’s quite the experience. Born and raised on this island, I’ve seen almost every square inch it offers. Perhaps biased opinions are at play, but not too many places offer this amount of beauty. My chest swells with pride witnessing Kayla’s admiration for my personal sanctuary. My insides warm to the idea of having something in common. It actually makes me happy, or maybe the better word would be proud that our enjoyment is unified.

  Kayla turns and smiles at me. My thoughts freeze as I fight to remain expressionless. Proud? This obsession with her has to stop, and it’s beginning to weird me out. I don’t care about her, personally. That’s stupid. What I care about are the sights she’s seeing; the natural habitat that’s a part of who I am.

  My back stiffens and I turn away, placing the blade in the water. I press through the stroke and then repeat the action on the opposite side. I maintain this continuous flow until there’s a good distance between us. This chick is not getting under my skin.

  Chapter Seven

  Kayla~

  After Kai’s explanation about the correct form of paddling, my body begins to relax. My rhythm finally syncs with Mom’s, and I lean back in the seat, captivated by the surrounding view. My gaze darts from one site to another, trying to incorporate as many images as possible.

  The beauty blanketing the area is beyond anything imaginable. My Google searches pale in comparison, not giving the island its proper justification. The sharpness of colors and the lavishness of each plant expanding along the river embankments is postcard perfect. I’m in complete awe. Everywhere I look, the various depths of green cause a visual awakening. My eyes widen, trying to capture every beautiful aspect. I don’t want to miss any details, like the waxy appearances on each plant leaf or the velvety pink magnolia petals. I’m astounded. God, I really am in love with this island.

  Kai’s soothing voice wafts down the river, and my insides clench in response. That voice. I tune the rest of the group’s chatter out to listen to him speak. Kai’s answering the honeymooner’s‌—‌Tom, I believe is his name‌—‌question, but Kai’s kayak hasn’t strayed too far from ours. I’m not sure if Kai thinks Mom and I are incapable or what, but I don’t mind. There’s something reassuring about having the guide close by. We round a bend in the river, and I gasp at the mountain peak coming into view.

  “Mount Wai‘ale‘ale is the mountain straight ahead,” Kai’s rich, sexy voice begins to explain. “Today is a rare, lucky day because the peak is devoid of fog. You could come back here every year for the next twenty years and never see the peak this clear again.”

  I stop paddling and soak in the sight. Mom reaches for the dry bag and ruffles through the contents in search for the camera.

  “The peak reaches five thousand one hundred forty-eight feet, and receives an average of four hundred and fifty inches of rain a year. Because of the amount of rainfall, it’s one of the wettest places on earth,” Kai says.

  “Is that the highest peak on the island?” the honeymooner guy, Tom, asks.

  “No, actually it’s the second. Kawaikini measures five thousand two hundred forty-three feet.”

  “Wow,” Tom responds.

  Quite impressed, I stare at the pinnacle as it soars toward the sky. Unlike most summits that perch in the middle and form a perfect triangle, this particular one juts to the side before sloping downward along the mountain range. It’s rather striking.

  “Is there a trail leading up there?” Tom asks.

  “Yes, but I don’t recommend that hike. The terrain’s rough, making the trail dangerous for the average backpacker. Even for the most skilled hiker, the trail can be deadly. And not just the exposed places where it’s easy to lose your footing, but the streambeds and stream crossings are susceptible to flash flooding.”

  “Have you ever tackled it?” Tom inquires.

  Honeymoon guy is full of questions today, but this one intrigues me. I glance at Kai, and my breath hitches at the sheepish grin taking over his face. My God. My stomach flips. Kai Hale’s vulnerability has to be the hottest thing ever.

  “No, but I’ve had a couple of friends attempt it. With one near-death experience, they assure me they’ll never do it again. I like an adventure, but that particular one, I’ll take their word for it.”

  Kai’s mouth spreads into a full-fledged grin, and my heart begins to race. He balances the paddle on the kayak and grabs the lower edge of his shirt. My mouth dries as I watch, paralyzed by his movements. He lifts the shirt above his head, and my lips part. I stand corrected. Kai Hale’s abs are the hottest thing ever. I don’t think there’s an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. He’s so toned. His abs‌…‌his arms. Every muscle defined. But not the gym-and-protein-drink fitness. No, this body comes from physical work. And is that a tattoo?

  My gaze dips to the black line segments of his right deltoid. Unable to make out the definition, I double blink and turn awa
y. The last thing I want is to be caught ogling him with my tongue hanging out. Jeez, Kayla, get it together. He is not the first hot guy you’ve ever seen.

  “The best way to reach the top is by helicopter. That I have done, and the view is breathtaking,” that velvety voice says behind me.

  Mom snaps her pictures. She oohs and aahs while capturing the moment, but I don’t pay attention. My ears tune to Kai’s voice. Unable to contain myself, I sneak another peek at him. His eyes dance with a passion as he describes the various sights of the island. The Honeymooners are soaking up the information, but I’m basking in Kai’s enjoyment of retelling the same information I’m sure he repeats each and every day. This island is part of his soul. It’s obvious through his gaze.

  We start paddling again and every twist and turn around the bends, those darkened sexy eyes and chiseled abs reflect through my mind.

  But he’s not the only thing vying for my attention. The beauty of the island keeps pulling at me. The different plant species. The vibrant colors. The combination brings a balance of peace. I inhale the crisp, clean scent and turn to say something to Mom. My words fall short when my gaze connects with fervent brown eyes. I smile wider, still enthralled with the beauty of the island, but the tightness in Kai’s expression confuses me. It’s as if he’s angry with me. But what the hell did I do? To confirm my suspicion, he jerks his head forward and paddles faster, racing to the lead. My smile drops, replaced by a frown as I stare blankly at his retreating figure. I’m not sure why this bothers me. It shouldn’t. But I’ll be lying if I say Kai’s blatant disregard for me doesn’t sting.

  Chapter Eight

  Kai~

  Each taught muscle unwinds when I catch sight of the next river bend. The cove where we park the kayaks is to the right, and then the next leg of the tour can begin. The hike. Breathing becomes easier as the tightness leaves my chest. Despite this strange temptation, I’ve managed to stay away from Kayla Cannon, and the distance between us should be relatively easy to maintain on the trail.

  But I don’t understand this need to be near her. Not at all. Plenty of girls from previous tours have caught my eye, but none of them were worth risking my job for. It was easy to stick to the rules, and I’ve never thought twice about them when the tour ended. But there’s something different about this chick. I just need to keep strong and put distance between us before doing something stupid, like asking her out.

  “Right through here, folks are where we’ll park the kayaks. The trail is up ahead.” I slip my shirt back on and motion to the narrow inlet jutting to the right, and then steer everyone toward it. “And don’t leave any valuables in your kayak.”

  Once in the cove, I make sure everyone exits the kayaks properly. The trail we have to trek isn’t necessarily long, but Paul wasn’t kidding. Last night’s rain may make the path a little treacherous. I’ve seen people waddle through mud up to their knees.

  “Follow me, guys. Walking sticks are near a tree above the river bank. I highly suggest using them.”

  We walk a short distance until we approach the riverbank ledge. To continue, everyone must climb the six-foot high embankment, entangled with roots. My job is to assure everyone passes safely. I step aside to let the older couple go first. The lady climbs, and I offer my hand to help her balance. I always do this. Most females and children accept help, but the guys inevitably try it on their own. The perverted husband passes next, followed by the rest of the group with Cara and Kayla trailing behind. Cara steps up to the ledge and grabs hold of my hand. I assist her to safety then turn to Kayla. The corners of her mouth lift but the smile looks forced. And to top it off, she doesn’t extend her hand for help. Guilt consumes me. Does she know I avoided her on purpose?

  “Need help?” I ask, despite myself.

  “I’m good.” Kayla advances to the riverbank ledge, and the determination on her face makes me smile. She places her foot on a tree root and pulls up. Her shoe‌—‌no match for the muddy bark‌—‌slips, and she falls.

  “I’ve got you,” I say as I bolt behind her and place both hands on the sides of her hips. Mistake. Big mistake. Heat shoots straight from my hands down to my feet.

  “Thanks,” she mutters. Her body tenses momentarily, and then she steps up again.

  I breathe deeply, and her scent wafts over me. Kayla smells incredible, a musky scent with a hint of lavender. So unlike the coconut scent girls usually have when they visit the island. I ignore the desire to nestle my nose in her hair and push her to safety, my hands sliding off, fingertips gliding across her sweet ass. Shit. I’m no better than the fucking pervert.

  I wait a moment for my heartbeat to pace back to normal before stepping to the riverbank and scaling the ledge. When I reach the top, the deep intake of air to clear my mind doesn’t quite help. I clear my throat and proceed.

  “Okay, everyone, we’re not too far away from the waterfall. Those walking sticks are right over here.”

  My voice sounds gruff, and I’m still baffled by my reaction to touching her. Big neon letters spelling “stay away” flash in my brain, but my body fails to heed the warning. It wants nothing more than to run my fingers along that ass again.

  I lead the group along the trail, and when the path gives way to mud, I step to the top ledge. Another tour approaches, trudging through the muck, sinking to their ankles. I mentally sigh. At least it’s not knee deep.

  Nodding to the other group’s tour guide as they pass, I smile and keep pressing forward. Even though I see the same tour guides at least once a week, we never stop to make small talk. The customers aren’t paying us to stand around and listen to our conversation. A lot of us meet at Rick’s or some other joint and talk there. So a simple acknowledgment works for now.

  I glance behind me and hold back a laugh. The entire group is walking along this tiny ledge. It appears that nobody wants to get dirty today.

  Questions from my group are tossed my way, and I answer them as we trek deeper into the tropical forest. I try to stay away from Kayla, the best I can, but we keep ending up near each other. I slow to a crawl to answer Tom’s umpteenth question and suck in a breath as Kayla’s musky lavender scent breezes by me. My gaze drops to her toned legs, and I clench my jaw shut. I will not hit on her, dammit.

  The whooshing sound of flowing water magnifies the closer we get to our destination. Kayla’s pace increases as she darts forward, eager to see the waterfall. Yes, despite my deliberations to ignore her, I keep stealing glances and studying her expressions. Kayla’s an open book. And she seems to appreciate every new species of plant we come across. More than once, I have to stop myself from asking her what she was thinking.

  Then it happens‌—‌a moment of reverence. We emerge from the trail with the waterfall in full view. Kayla’s eyes widen in admiration as she takes in the natural surroundings. The tiny gasp in her breath, the awe in her eyes, I’ve seen this expression many times on different people‌—‌people appreciating God’s provided beauty. But damn, if she isn’t the most inspiring of them all. I blink a few times to rid my mind of her. Yeah, doesn’t quite work.

  “Okay, folks, we’ll eat a quick lunch, and then you can swim in the plunge pool if you want too.” We settle upon the large boulders to eat, and I try not to laugh at Kayla’s clear distaste for the chickens running rampant. We islanders have learned to ignore them. With no natural predators, those damn things are everywhere.

  Kayla and a few others brave the coolness of the water to take a dip. I move closer to the pool’s edge, sitting on the side of a large boulder, feet propped on the nearby rock. The boulders blanket the ground, and you have to watch your footing maneuvering around them.

  My gaze lands on Kayla standing twenty feet away. She removes her shorts and hands them to her mom. I’m trying hard not to stare. I really am, but I’m a guy. Guys look. Especially, when there’s been an established attraction. And dragging my stare away from her black, string-bikini bottoms is damn impossible.

  Kayla lifts t
he bottom of her shirt, and my mouth dries. Her flat stomach is the first thing I see, and I want very badly to trace my tongue across her silky white skin. The shirt is removed, and her nearly naked body stirs my insides. She’s less busty than I prefer, but there’s no denying her smokin’ hot body. My dick agrees, sporting a semi as wicked thoughts enter my brain. I force myself to look away.

  And frown immediately.

  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what George, the pervert, is staring at. His lustful leer pisses me off. At least I have the decency to turn away. It takes all my willpower to keep from pummeling him.

  Splash.

  “Shit. The water’s cold!”

  My head turns to Kayla’s gasp, and there’s no way I can hide the smile forming on my lips. She’s too frickin’ cute. Her arms flail about in an attempt to keep herself afloat, and she’s breathing rather erratically. For a moment, I think she’ll need saving, but she calms down fairly quick.

  “It’s a little refreshing, isn’t it?” I ask once drowning is no longer an issue.

  Kayla laughs as she looks at me. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t prepared for the cool temp. It’s great, though.”

  “I think that’s a common misconception,” I say, smirking.

  “It’s worth it.” Her eyes widen as she breaks into a huge smile. “I get to swim under a waterfall.”

  The gleam in her eyes causes me to double blink. And that smile. It’s so genuine, I can’t do anything but stare.

  With a tiny squeal, Kayla breaks toward the base of the fall. Her smile never falters as she laughs at the water spraying on top of her. A few moments pass before I realize I’ve been watching her this entire time. Turning to see if anyone else from the group has gone into the water, my gaze connects with Cara. She gives me a wry smile which I sheepishly return, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.