“See ya later, Mom,” I belt out, not waiting for a response.
The door shuts, and I skip down the stairs, anxious to be there already. I will have fun despite being alone. Walking to the rental car, I practically stumble when a damn chicken lurches in front of me, cawing as if I was in the wrong. What is up with all these chickens?
“Shoo, go away before I drop you off at KFC,” I say, waving my hands to move the bird along.
The chicken sprints away, and I shake my head. Weird. I unlock the car and slide safely into the driver’s seat, breathing a sigh of relief. It’s not that I hate chickens, they’re rather tasty on my plate, but roaming around freely is downright freaky.
I start the car and back out of the parking lot, stupid chicken forgotten. Sort of. My stomach flips at the thought of going to the bar by myself. I’m on vacation, and I’m twenty-one. I do need to go out. At least once. And I don’t expect Kai to be there, or even if he is, that he’ll want to see me, but I’ll order the Mai Tai and not lie to Staci the next time she asks.
I stop at the intersection of Ka Haku Road and Highway 56 and turn my head to the left. I pause as I study the vacant road that leads to the East and Southern Rim. Where Kai lives. Or, at least, where I think he lives from the conversation I overheard between him and the nosey honeymooner. The road marches forward, fading to black, hindering visibility. But it’s only an hour to reach the southern part. For a mere moment, I contemplate turning the car eastward but then curse under my breath.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid idea.
He. Doesn’t. Like. Me.
I glance to the right and then back left, sighing. It is pretty dark that way. My stomach lurches again as I stick to my original plan and turn toward Princeville Center. Even if I have my drink alone, at least, I can say I did it. I will do this.
Chapter Twelve
Kai~
Kamp waltzes to the bar, and I slap my hand on his back. “Let’s sit over there.”
He turns to the booth I’m pointing at and pivots left. “You want to order food or something?”
“Yeah,” I say dismissively. I’m not hungry, but I can’t think of an excuse fast enough. Kamp and I never sit at booths when we go out. Not unless we’re ordering food. And even then, we usually eat at the counter. But explaining why I need a prime scoping-location would prove too difficult. I frown as Kamp makes his way over there. The vantage spot is only good if I sit on the far side.
My hiking boots pound across the concrete floor in lengthy strides to beat Kamp to the table. Without pause, I slide across the brown vinyl seat, mentally fist-pumping the air. But disappointment squashes any victory when a quick scan of the small bar comes up empty. Nobody and I mean nobody we know is here. Including a certain mainlander that, based on the sudden onset of nausea, I had more than hoped would be here.
I swallow my concern and grab the menu stacked to the side of the table. I must keep the charade of ordering food going.
A cute waitress that has to be close to our age strolls to the table and smiles widely. “What can I get you guys?” she asks in a sweet voice.
A slow seductive smile crosses Kamp’s face. “Are you servin’ a piece of yourself tonight? I think I saw passion fruit on the menu.”
Without missing a beat, the waitress says, “Sorry, sugar, we’re fresh out. Perhaps you’d enjoy sour belts?”
I can’t contain the snicker that escapes. “I think you’ve met your match.” I turn to the waitress and order a simple plate of nachos and two Coronas.
Kamp grumbles under his breath as she saunters away. I discreetly look toward the door again before bringing my attention back to Kamp. “What’d ya expect, dude? Stop with the cheesy lines. Besides, they’re not even true pick-up lines. They’re just stupid.”
“Whatever. She’s not getting a tip.” Kamp turns to the soccer game broadcast on the television, and I steal one more glance at the door. “Who are you looking for?” Kamp asks with a hint of annoyance.
My gaze cuts to Kamp and the accusation in his brown eyes says it all—busted. My skills are not as covert as I thought.
“No one in particular. Just wondering if anyone we know has shown up.” Total lie, but I’m hopeful he buys it. “No one we know is here.”
“No shit. That’s what I tried to tell you. This place is—” Kamp remains tightlipped when the waitress comes back with our drinks.
“Don’t stop on my account, sugar,” the waitress says as she places the bottles on the table. She leans closer to Kamp and glances toward the presumptuous looking tourists surrounding the bar. In a lowered voice, she says, “I know exactly what this place is like.”
Her stare lingers on Kamp for a few moments too long, and then she smiles suggestively at him. Kamp swallows hard and watches her round, firm ass walk away. I shake my head and mutter, “Shit.” I will never hear the end of this.
The waitress ducks around the corner, and Kamp drags his stare back to me, quirking an eyebrow. I raise my hand to him. “Don’t say it.” But he doesn’t have to; his expression says it all—ha ha, my cheesy lines work, asshole.
To no surprise, Kamp decides he likes this place and waiting for the nachos isn’t half bad. I’m still shaking my head when my heart plummets to my stomach from the quick glance I stole at the entrance.
Son-of-bitch.
Chapter Thirteen
Kayla~
I don’t want to do this.
I step through the entrance of the bar and can sense all eyes upon me. They’re not. I’m sure. But the reassurance doesn’t stop my heart from racing or the thickening sensation my throat suddenly experiences.
The bamboo-rattan style bar catches my eye first. It’s beautifully crafted, and for some weird reason makes me somewhat relax. A big screen television, tuned to a soccer game, is positioned up high against the wall above the bar. Open shelves filled with liquor line the backdrop. I swallow my apprehension and raise my chin slightly.
Yes, I can do this.
Stepping forward, I pad across the concrete floor toward the bar and then glide on top the bamboo-legged stool. I keep my purse on my lap, trying hard not to fidget. I’m so out of my league; the surrounding people become a blur.
**~~**~~**
Kai~
The second Kayla enters through the door, adrenaline races through my body, and I’m suddenly sixteen unsure what to do. This unsureness isn’t me. Not at all. But I’m so surprised by the fact she’s here, that I don’t care about the developing apprehension. I put no thought into what to say if I saw her. And whatever actions I take need to be slick to rectify my idiotic behavior from earlier today.
Kamp turns and curses. “This is why we’re here? You’re after some haole ass?”
“Watch it…” I growl, “Don’t place her in the category with those other girls.”
“Chillax. I didn’t say anything bad. But…hey, wait a minute.” Kamp’s eyes squint as he inspects Kayla sliding onto the barstool. “Isn’t that the girl I practically knocked over today? You know the one who fell for me?”
“She did not fall for you,” I say through gritted teeth. “Your clumsy ass ran her over.”
Kamp laughed. “Seriously, bro, she’s hot. Hit that and be done. I—”
I silence Kamp with a glare.
Throwing his hands up in defeat, he says, “Okay, I get it. You have a thing for her. Honestly, though, since when did you become territorial?”
I remain quiet—mainly because I don’t know how to respond. Why am I being territorial?
“But what are you thinking? She’s a tourist. She’ll be gone in a week.”
“Three, actually,” I say. Not at all pleased with those facts.
“Three? How the hell do you know that?” Kamp asks perplexed.
“She was on my tour the other day.” I haven’t taken my eyes off her this entire time. Part of me wishes Kayla would glance this way, but she hasn’t turned around yet. In fact, she hasn’t moved. Kayla’s pos
ture is stiff, and the corners of her lips are turned downward. I’m right; she isn’t the bar-scene type girl. Certainly not a one-night-stand type girl. Then why the hell is she here?
“Whatever, hoapili. This deal will only end badly.” Kamp shakes his head and takes a slow drink of Corona. His stare weighs heavy on me, but I don’t look at him or add anything else to the conversation. I know how this will end. Kayla will leave. It’s not like I want anything long-term for chrissakes, I just want to get to know her better.
My expression darkens as some tool in a slick polo shirt and crisp pants approaches her. I don’t want to make it obvious I’m staking a claim by going up there right now. Besides, he’s hardly a threat. The tool looks to be about twenty years Kayla’s senior. I hiss underneath my breath. What is up with all these old bastards preying on her? I continue to watch, waiting for her to shoot him down.
Except he doesn’t leave.
What the hell?
I can’t see Kayla’s face when she talks to him, but the way her hands are fidgeting, I don’t think she’s pleased. I can see his face, though. And the tool’s leering at her like she’s the appetizer he can’t wait to devour. I work my jaw back and forth, hands clenched.
The bartender returns with Kayla’s drink, and the old bastard reaches for his wallet.
Oh, hell no.
Not going to happen tonight, pal.
I stand abruptly, ignore the shooting pain from banging my knee on the table, and step toward the bar, brushing off Kamp’s amused chuckles in the background.
**~~**~~**
Kayla~
The friendly bartender who’s all smiles saves me from passing out. Okay, not in a literal sense, but close enough. The walls, even though the bar is open to the outside, are closing in on me. I don’t think coming alone was a good idea.
“What can I get you,” Mr. Smiley asks.
“I’ll take a Mai Tai, please.”
“Ah, the signature drink,” he says with a slight tease to his tone. “Good choice.”
“I have explicit orders to drink one.” I smile at his relaxed grin.
He nods and saunters to the end of the bar and grabs a glass and some liquor. As soon as I’m alone, a middle-aged guy in a navy polo shirt and starched khakis approaches on my right. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise as my bullshit detector goes to DEFCON One. I sit a little straighter, hoping he’ll pass.
No such luck.
Flashy Pants smiles at me while leaning against the stool next to me. I return the politest smile manageable but stare blankly at him. He takes this as an invitation to sit. So much for nonverbal communication.
“My name is Mark,” he introduces himself. Raking his gaze over my body, Mark speaks again, “And you are—”
“Kayla,” I interrupt before he uses a crappy pick-up line. I look away and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. No use fueling the fire for Mark’s hopes, but I’ve met my pick-up-line quota for the day. However, I kind of liked Muscle Guy’s line. It was rather cute than annoying.
“Well, Kayla, what brings you to the island? Business or pleasure?”
Really?
I shift my gaze back to Mark. The gray-streaked sideburns and slight creases around his eyes place him about forty. And he reeks of money. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the whole confident, arrogant demeanor he has about himself is overbearing.
“Pleasure,” I say unwillingly.
“So you’re the type of girl who likes to have fun?” Marks leering stare wanders over my body again, and I cringe at the clichéd thoughts floating in my head. But I actually feel like a lollipop he wants to lick. And as if to showcase my point, his tongue sweeps across his lips.
Gross.
I don’t respond and swallow the insult on the tip of my tongue as a pang of uneasiness washes through me. My hands squeeze the handles of my purse, but I refuse to be the one to break eye-contact. One corner of his mouth raises, and I want to punch the smug look on his face.
Fancy Pants opens his mouth to speak, but I’m saved by the bartender, yet again.
“Here you go, ma’am.” He slides the drink across the hard maple top, and I smile at him in relief. “That’d be five-fifty.”
“Here, let me get that,” Mark says, reaching for his wallet.
“Thanks, but no. I’m waiting for someone.” I whip out a ten-dollar bill and hand the money to the bartender. “Keep the change.”
The bartender nods and murmurs a thank you before leaving me alone with Mark.
Crap. How the heck am I going to get out of this? He’ll get suspicious when no one shows up. Thanks a lot, Staci. I’m so yelling at her the next opportunity I have.
“I hope it’s a girlfriend you’re waiting on, sweetheart.”
“No, I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” The lie slides off my tongue almost too easily. God, I hope Fancy Pants doesn’t call me on my lie because it’s obvious I’m not local. I haven’t even been here long enough to develop the slightest trace of a tan. Although, I suppose he doesn’t know I’m visiting the island with my mom. I glance at my untouched drink and suppress a sigh. I’ll have to chug the liquor and leave. This is why I don’t go out.
“Well, that’s too bad. I’m sure I could—”
“Kayla,” a deep voice says behind me.
My body instantly stiffens and then relaxes. I know that voice. The deep sexy baritone has been keeping me up at night. I whip around to face Kai. Relief floods my insides before my pulse beats faster. Which I find strange. His perpetual glare shouldn’t be welcoming. Except, he’s not glaring now. Or at least, not at me.
“Sweetie.” A smile engulfs my face, and I stand to give him a hug. Overplaying it? Yeah, pretty much. But I want Fancy-pants Mark to go away. I lean in close to Kai’s ear and whisper, “Please, go along with this.”
Not missing a beat, Kai whispers a soft, “Of course.” Kai runs his hands along the exposed part of my back as he returns the hug. Tingles trace everywhere his fingertips glide against my bare skin, and I shudder at his touch.
My fingers graze the back of his head, and I breathe in, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Kai smells incredible—a mixture of spice and musk—and my body erupts into flames. A small gasp escapes as my expression slackens. I withdraw somewhat. Our gaze connects, lips mere inches away. Kai’s brown eyes darken with lust as his fingers press into my skin. I can barely breathe; my nerves heighten at the anticipation of kissing him.
Wait…what? Kissing him? Kai doesn’t want to kiss me. He doesn’t even like me. Does he? I force myself to break eye-contact, blinking several times. Kai lowers his hands as I step back to collect my thoughts.
“Uh…let me grab my drink,” I say, my voice throaty.
Mark shifts in his seat and eyes Kai as if he’s a parasite, and then draws his gaze back to me. “Kayla, it was my pleasure to meet you. Perhaps later when you’re”—he flicks his gaze back to Kai and then me—“ready for a real challenge, we can hook up.”
Red. All I see is red. I glance at Kai. His body stiffens and his jaw ticks, but he doesn’t look angry. He looks perplexed. Still, Mark insulted him, and I don’t know if Kai would start a fight. I don’t know him that well, but I’m not willing to find out.
“I have no idea what you’re implying, but let me assure you…I’m way more than satisfied.” I swing my purse on my shoulder and then grab my drink. I turn toward Kai and hook my arm through his. His body relaxes somewhat from my touch. In a lowered voice, I say, “Please get me out of here.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kai~
I should be mad. Angry. Furious. Anything other than happy. But walking away from that arrogant prick with Kayla attached to my arm negates his insults. I feel like I won the top prize in a pissing contest. Though, I hate to think of Kayla as a trophy. She’s better than that, even if my thoughts aren’t exactly pure. With Kayla wrapped in my arms a few moments ago, all I wanted to do was back her
against the wall and fuck the hell out of her. Her body felt incredible tucked against mine. I’m still sporting a semi. Jesus, this girl is turning me into a horny teenager.
“I’m so sorry,” Kayla says as we walk to the table.
“What for?” I ask, snapping out of my sex-deluded daydream. I tilt my head to her in confusion.
Kayla removes her arm from mine, and without hesitation, I place my hand on her lower back, directing her toward the table. I’m being territorial again, but I need to keep touching her. And besides, I want to send a message to every guy staring at her that she’s mine.
At least for tonight.
“For getting you involved and then insulted. That guy’s a dick.”
Laughing at that word coming from her sweet mouth, I reply, “Forget about it. There’s nothing to be sorry for. He is a dick.”
I’ve calmed down by the time we reach the table. The asshat may think he’d be better at pleasing Kayla than me, but he’s wrong. Dead wrong. Cocky bastards like him think having money places them above everyone else. He may have the funds to buy her things, but I’ve seen his type before. They’re way too selfish to please anyone but themselves. I know how to please Kayla. And money has nothing to do with it.
Kamp breaks into a smile at the sight of Kayla. “Ah, fall-girl. I’ve ruined you for all other guys, huh?”
Kayla laughs and shakes her head as I stand back to let her slide into the booth. I chuckle unwillingly. At least, she has a sense of humor. It’s a must with Kamp around.
“Kamp, her name is Kayla.” I move next to her and wave my hand toward Kamp, introducing him.
Impossible Love: An Unforeseen Destiny Novel Book One Page 6
