Beach Happens (Hawaii Heat, #2)

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Beach Happens

  Hawaii Heat Series Book Two

  Jamie K. Schmidt

  Also by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Hawaii Heat

  Beach Happens

  The Emerging Queens

  The Queen's Mystery

  The Truth & Lies Series

  Truth Kills

  Truth Reveals

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also By Jamie K. Schmidt

  Beach Happens (Hawaii Heat, #2)

  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

  Epilogue

  To learn more about the great island of Maui and what it offers, check out these links:

  Other books by Jamie K. Schmidt:

  About the Author:

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  Further Reading: Truth Kills

  Beach Happens is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright @2016 by Jamie K. Schmidt.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

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  Cover Design by Kim Killion

  http://thekilliongroupinc.com/

  Thank you.

  To Carrie Arbuckle & Amanda Barnes, my friends since elementary school. We should have a sleepover soon and play Monopoly.

  Thank you Mom and Auntie for helping proofread. Tracy & Mary, I really appreciate your spot on edits and for not rolling your eyes at my tight deadlines.

  And as always, a huge shout out to my MTBs for all the support!

  Chapter One

  Michaela Harris peeked out into the church. It was full of people, half of whom she didn't recognize. Business associates of her parents, most likely. She tugged up the bodice of her wedding gown.

  Don’t cry. Do not cry.

  “He probably had a last minute, urgent phone call,” Corrine said, in a tone that was supposed to be soothing.

  Michaela’s other three bridesmaids, Gerald’s cousins, were smoking outside and arguing over which of the groomsmen they were going to bang at the reception.

  “Your brother is never late,” Michaela said, not turning from the door. The people were already whispering among themselves and craning their necks to catch a glimpse of any of the wedding party.

  In fact, Gerald was almost pathological about being on time. He once gave her the cold shoulder all night because they arrived at a corporate function five minutes late. They had gotten stuck in traffic, but since Michaela had been driving, it was all her fault.

  “He’ll be here.” Corrine patted her shoulder and then scurried out of the vestibule with her phone already in her hand.

  Michaela wished her wedding gown had pockets. She could catch up on some emails to distract her from this fiasco. She glanced around, but she didn’t see her purse. Her mother probably had it. There was no way in hell she was going to try and find her mother right now. She was probably having martinis from a flask with a few of her friends by the baptismal pool.

  Not that kind of a pool party, Mom.

  “Where is he?” Her father burst in, looking like a pissed off waiter in his custom fitted tuxedo.

  Michaela closed the door so the entire church couldn’t hear him. “I don’t know.”

  She hadn’t seen Gerald since he kissed her goodbye last night. He told her he was going to go back to his place and have an early night.

  “Carl said he wasn’t at his condo when he went to pick him up this morning.”

  The best man had been frantic, and showed up at her apartment looking for him. It was her first clue that this day was going to go right into the shitter.

  Gerald’s phone went to voice mail and he hadn’t called any of them back all morning.

  “Did the two of you have a fight?” her father growled, looming over her.

  “No.” Michaela forced herself to meet his eyes and not step back as he invaded her personal space—which wasn’t easy considering she was wearing a crinoline and her dress resembled a bell.

  She had told herself this morning that Gerald must have lost his phone, or it was out of battery and he was already at the church. But he hadn’t been here when they arrived.

  Her father sighed explosively and stomped around, opening up doors and glaring through them as if he expected Gerald to be playing hide and seek.

  “We checked the hospitals.” Michaela trailed off into a whisper when she realized she wouldn’t be able to keep the tears out of her voice.

  Her father stormed out of the room.

  Thanks for the kind words and support.

  But that was her father. More concerned about his own image than his daughter being abandoned at the altar.

  How was she going to face everyone on Monday? The jilted bride. She could see the smirks on the faces of her co-workers and hear their “compassionate” platitudes.

  He was a little out of your reach, anyway.

  If he’s anything like his father, he’ll be bald by forty.

  You’re better off without him. He likes younger women anyway.

  He did too. His last girlfriend was a freshman in college. She dumped him for a bass player in a grunge band. Michaela’s father set them up shortly after.

  If Gerald was so unhappy, why didn’t he say something last night? Hell, why did he even ask her to marry him if he didn’t want to go through with it?

  They were good together. The sex was predictable, but they were compatible. They were both attorneys, so they understood the long hours and the pressure. They both wanted to make partner in their individual firms. They were a good fit. It made sense that they get married. Both their families had been ecstatic when they announced their engagement. It had been fun to bask in the glow of her father’s approval for once.

  Michaela looked at the cl
ock on the wall. He was two hours late. Gerald was either dead or not coming.

  Corrine came back in and handed Michaela her cell phone. “I think you need to see this.”

  Looking down at the phone, she saw a text conversation between Gerald and his sister.

  I can’t do this. Gerald had typed.

  So much for the being dead theory.

  You can. You just have cold feet. Corrine had texted back.

  I don’t love her.

  Michaela’s knees buckled and she sagged against the wall for support. She took in a shaky breath. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. They never said those words to each other. They weren’t emotional people. They were analytical. They liked numbers. Love was what you watched on television and in the movies. But it still hurt to see it there in the harsh glow of the cell phone screen.

  Gerald should have told her this last night. He could have saved her this humiliation. He might not love her, but he should have been her friend. He should have been here, and then they could tell their guests together.

  She passed the phone back to Corrine, not bothering to read the rest of the conversation.

  “I told him it didn’t matter,” Corrine said. “That he was being selfish.”

  Michaela flinched. It did matter.

  “I told him that he needed to be here.”

  “What did he say?”

  Corrine sighed. “He’s not coming.”

  “No.” Her father’s face was red and mottled, having just come back into the room to hear the last part.

  “Dad, settle down. You’re going to have a stroke.” Michaela held his arm so he stayed in one place. She flipped up her veil. “I think we need to tell everyone to just head to the reception.”

  He shook her off. “Gerald Stone will be here. The merger won’t go on without him.”

  For a moment, she was amused that her father was calling her marriage a merger. It was an accurate description. Then she realized he was talking about the actual corporate merger between Harris Industries and Stone Mechanics.

  “Wait,” Michaela said. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if the Stones want my company, they have to take my daughter too.”

  Michaela reeled back in shock. “I’m not a pawn in your corporate deals. This is the twenty-first century. I am an attorney, not chattel.”

  “This has nothing to do with you.”

  Michaela blinked at him. “My marriage has nothing to do with me?”

  “Keep your voice down,” he ordered.

  She flung open the door and swished out down the aisle as fast as her behemoth gown could carry her. The organ player started playing a hopeful few bars of the Wedding March.

  “Can it,” Michaela snarled at him and the music stopped with a heavy pound on the keyboard.

  “Michaela stop.” Her father stomped on her train, but since it was eight feet long it took a while to stop her from going forward.

  She glared at him over her shoulder. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Michaela said to the people sitting in the pews on either side of her. “I’m sorry to inform you that Gerald Stone has decided to breach his verbal contract with my father. There will not be a wedding today. However, the Malibu Beach House has a wonderful cocktail hour starting—” She looked at her wrist where she wasn’t wearing a watch. “—about now. So please enjoy a wonderful dinner and a Venetian table that will make you weep, courtesy of Harris Industries.”

  Michaela whirled back and stepped on her own train. “Out of my way, old man,” she said to her father, pushing him back a few steps when he didn’t move.

  He only gaped at her in shock.

  “Get me out of this thing,” she snarled to Corrine and her bridesmaids, invoking Bridezilla for the first time in her long engagement.

  Her mother came sloshing in just as Michaela was stepping out of the yards and yards of fabric.

  “Oh honey, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to Maui,” Michaela said, padding over in her high priced underwear to her mother. Taking her purse from under her mother’s arms, she shuffled until she found her honeymoon tickets.

  Ripping up Gerald’s boarding pass, Michaela tossed that and her bouquet into the trash can. It might have been overkill when she dumped one of the lit candles on top.

  And had she been thinking clearly at the time, she wouldn’t have stomped out to her car in her corset and heels. Especially, since everyone and their brother had a cell phone camera out.

  But Michaela didn’t care. She slammed her car door and screeched out of the church’s parking lot.

  “Palekaiko Beach Resort, here I come.”

  Chapter Two

  Michaela drank on the plane. She drank too much. After six hours of screwdrivers, she pretty much had heartburn and a throbbing headache, but not heartache. She was over the horror of her failed wedding and the security at LAX.

  She had been selected for a random screening because—of course she did. They found traces on her hands of something that scanned as bomb making material. WTF? Really? Michaela had been escorted into the private room for a pat down.

  It had been really hard keeping all the sarcastic things she wanted to say in check. But after a humiliating and intrusive pat down, Michaela was deemed non threatening and allowed to catch her plane. Turns out the hand cream she used triggered the false positive. Next time, she’d live with the chapped hands.

  When the plane touched down in Kahului, Michaela couldn’t wait to pour herself into a taxi and go to the resort. So she stumbled to baggage claim, rolling her carry-on behind her and waited for her luggage to come out.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Until all the luggage had been claimed.

  “No,” she said, by this time horribly sober and exhausted to the point of tears.

  Yes.

  The airline had lost her bags. After another hour of waiting and waiting some more, Michaela was told to go to her hotel, and when her bag showed up they would put it in a taxi and send it to her.

  Unfortunately, they were a little vague on when that would be.

  Michaela got the name of the supervisor to talk to if her bags didn’t show up by morning.

  When she finally got to the Palekaiko Resort, Michaela leapt out of the cab and considered kissing the ground. But with all the chickens she saw, she was afraid of the chicken poop. Chickens seemed to have the right of way and no one looked twice at them.

  Staggering to the lobby, she debated sinking into a chair and crying. But she decided that could wait until she got into the privacy of her own room.

  “Aloha,” the desk clerk said. He was a slim, handsome Hawaiian man. His name tag said Hani.

  “Aloha,” Michaela said with feeling. “Checking in. Reservation should be under Stone." Her married name, had there been a wedding.

  Glancing outside, she could just barely see the ocean. Damn, she should have brought her surfboard. But then again, the airline would have lost that too. Gerald hadn’t wanted her to bring it.

  “What am I supposed to do while you’re surfing?” he had whined. “It’s our honeymoon.”

  Putting her elbow on the desk, she rested her chin on her hand. Hani frowned and typed furiously. All of a sudden, she was bathed in a cold sweat.

  “What’s wrong?” Michaela asked. But like with the secret AHA! moment in the movie Sixth Sense, she pieced it together a moment before the big reveal.

  That son-of-a-bitch!

  “Um,” Hani said, scratching his head. “It looks like that reservation was cancelled yesterday. We had to a charge fifty percent because of the late notice, but the guy didn’t care.”

  “What guy?” she said between her teeth.

  “Mr. Stone. Gerald Stone.”

  “Oh no,” she said.

  “Ma’am?” he asked.

  Michaela took a deep, shuddering breath. “I was supposed to have gotten married yesterday.” She blinked rapidly. No crying. She was a hard ass attorney.
“He decided to call the wedding off.”

  Damn it. Gerald didn't get to have this type of power over me.

  She was in paradise. She may not have her luggage, a husband or a honeymoon, but she had a credit card and she was not afraid to use it. This was her first vacation in five years and she would enjoy herself. Even if she had to max her Visa out to do it.

  Swallowing her anger, Michaela needed a minute and looked above Hani's head until she calmed down. Hani didn't deserve her bitchiness. There was a framed picture on the wall of a smiling Hawaiian woman giving the shaka two-handed.

  Hang loose.

  Chill.

  For some reason Pololena Kamaka, employee-of-the-month, and her happy face gave her the strength to look back at Hani.

  “I guess he decided to cancel the honeymoon too and didn’t tell me.” She hoped the smile she flashed him was more "devil may care" than a grimace.

  Hani looked horrified.

  Michaela felt a little sorry for the kid. Straightening her shoulders and mentally pulling on her big girl panties, she said, “Do you have any open rooms available? I’ll be happy to rebook.”

  Biting his lip, Hani started typing again. “I’ll check. But I know we’re full, and we were able to give away your room on a last minute deal to a local.” He looked up and winced. “Uh, we have all you can eat and drink specials. We’re pretty popular.”

  Michaela nodded.

  After a few minutes of searching and Hani muttering things in Hawaiian, her spirits sank. She looked at her phone and wasn’t surprised at all to find out she was out of battery. Served her right for playing Candy Crush on the plane.

  “Do you have a place I can recharge this?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “Give it to me and I can plug it in back here.”

  Michaela handed him her phone.

  “I’m sorry. We don’t have anything. A whole block of rooms are being renovated, and they’re not ready for guests.”

  “I understand.” Michaela sighed. It figured, with the way her luck was going. “Do you know of any other places that might have an opening last minute?”

  He winced. “It’s the state surfing championship this week. Pretty much everything is going to be booked.”