by J. L. Berg
I tried not to think about the last time I’d been asked that question.
Lani’s father had asked me that question weeks ago and I was still too afraid to answer.
Turning my attention to Lani, I lifted a single challenging eyebrow and watched as her shoulders shrugged, giving me all the answer I needed.
“We’re in.”
“We have to perform?” she almost shouted as we sat down on the grass near the mouth of the bay.
“Now, you know why I never enter.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “I feel like I really should have asked more questions before giving you the go-ahead for this, but honestly, I heard Queen, and my brain kind of went to mush.”
Chuckling, I handed her the hot sandwich she’d ordered from the street vendor as I dug into mine. “So, that’s why we’re in this mess?”
“I can’t help it. The little girl still buried inside me always wanted to be royal! And, besides, I didn’t see you protesting much!”
“My brother has a way of antagonizing me.”
“I noticed.” She grinned. “Okay, so how exactly are we going to pull this off? Can we do anything? Like, could we get up onstage and recite Shakespeare if we wanted to?”
I shrugged. “We could. I wouldn’t suggest it if you want to actually win, but sure, the rules just say there must be two of you, and you must preform…something.”
“Okay, that’s simple enough. But I need to change. Do you think your friend Millie could let me into her store?”
“Uh, yes—right after you tell me what you have planned.”
A smile curved around her face. “Maybe later. I’m starving.”
“We look ridiculous,” I said as we waited on the side of the makeshift stage that had been erected on the street for the fall festival’s King and Queen Competition.
The sun had begun to set, and a large crowd had gathered around for this evening’s show.
It was something I sometimes stayed around for, lingering in the back for the last several years when my brother had hopped onstage and competed with Cora, but not this year.
Nope, this year, I’d had to open my big mouth.
This year, I was front and center.
“We don’t look ridiculous,” Lani encouraged me, giving me a once-over. “Well, maybe you do since you refused to change, so I guess that means we kind of look ridiculous, standing next to each other…”
“See?” I said, my eyes sweeping over her.
She’d gotten rid of the drab gown from the 1800s for something a lot cooler.
Or hotter rather.
We’d managed to track down Millie, who’d been more than glad to sneak us into Beachcombers to help Lani find a more suitable dress for what she had planned.
And, if it wasn’t for that plan, I might have bailed on this whole thing.
“So, what is your job?” she asked, going through her directions one last time as the couple before us, who happened to be my brother and Cora, finished.
“Stand there and try to look sexy?”
She smiled. “I don’t think I said sexy, but sure. Just dance. You can dance, right?”
“Uh,” I managed to say.
“Oh! They’re announcing us!”
I was so screwed.
As Cora and Dean exited the stage, having just finished singing “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher to a roaring crowd, my brother gave me a pat on the back and wished us luck.
God, I hated him in this moment.
Just dance—that was all I had to do.
All I had to—
The second Leilani stepped on that stage, I lost the ability to breathe.
It was like watching a butterfly take flight for the first time.
Her smile was dazzling as she walked with the confidence of a tiger onto center stage, just waiting for the music to begin, waving to little girls in the front row, while I stood there like a deer in headlights, just staring at her.
We’d both joked at how ridiculous we’d look onstage—me still in my Blackbeard costume and her now looking like a Polynesian goddess, dressed in a white bikini and a flowery print sarong tied around her waist—but the truth was, I could have been wearing anything next to her, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
She’d steal the stage regardless.
And that point was proven the moment the music began, and I discovered just how much her mother had taught her all those years ago.
I knew I was supposed to dance or do something. This, after all, was a couple’s competition. But all I could do was watch her. The mesmerizing way her hips moved to the drumbeat and the sensual sway of her hands. I’d never really understood the idea of hula dancing—how a person could tell a story with movement. But watching her made me a believer.
I loved every moment, and the crowd did, too, breaking into a fury of noise when the routine was over.
Jumping into my arms, she exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, that was fun! I think they liked us!”
“I think they loved you!” I corrected her as she gave one final wave as we headed offstage. I pressed her against the nearest wall, her breath still heavy from dancing. “What would you say if I dragged you back to my place and we skipped the rest of the performances?”
A devilish grin appeared across her face. “But what about my crown?” she asked.
“There is no crown, babe. Just a gift card to Billy’s, and honestly, I don’t think I can make it much longer after seeing you up there like that.”
She looked incredulous. “You mean, I did all that, and I don’t even get a damn crown?!”
Laughing, I pulled her toward the door. “Hey Dean, we forfeit. Enjoy your shrimp salad!”
I heard a chuckle from my brother as we made a run for it. I was thankful my house was only a block away because we were tearing at each other’s clothes before we even reached the front door.
“Are you sure there aren’t any blondes in there?” she joked the second I fished out my key.
“Funny,” I said, unlocking the door with one hand. The other was shoved under her bikini top, about to make a serious wardrobe malfunction if I didn’t get us inside.
“I want you to dance for me like that every day,” I said, pushing us both past the threshold.
“Okay,” she wholeheartedly agreed.
“But, right now, I just want to fuck you against this door.”
“God, yes.”
Slamming the door shut, I did just that, shoving her skirt up high on her waist as her finger worked the button on my pants. Our breaths were heavy, our hearts wild and our touches frantic, as we reached for each other, knowing what we craved most was just moments away.
Thankful she was wearing a bikini and not that ridiculously long dress anymore, I pushed aside the small strip of white fabric, and with one powerful thrust, I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I took her hard and fast, both of us needing that release more than we needed air in our lungs. When we were sated and spent, I carried her to my bedroom, and I fell asleep with her cradled in my arms, feeling like the luckiest man in the world.
But then morning came, and reality set in when I awoke to the smell of bacon.
In or out, Taylor?
The unanswered question loomed once again in my mind.
“You look like shit, little brother,” Dean said as I marched into work later that morning.
I gave him a look as I grabbed my morning coffee. “You know, you say that a lot.”
He shrugged. “Can’t help it if you look like shit all the time. Late night?”
Dumping half the container of creamer into my cup, I snapped back at him, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Clearly not getting the hint, he kept going, kept prodding and poking. “You seemed pretty chipper when you and Leilani left the festival, practically pawing at each other. You got second place by the way, although I don’t see how, considering you basically just stood there like a damn idiot the whole time, but—”
�
�We had breakfast together,” I finally said, unable to meet his eyes.
A palpable silence filled the room before the sound of my brother’s laughter broke it. I blinked several times before turning in his direction, only to see where I needed to aim my assault.
“That’s what’s got you in a wreck this morning? You had breakfast with a woman? Come on, Taylor. When are you going to grow up?”
I blew out a frustrated breath as I tried to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t kill my brother.
My mom would hate me.
My niece would be sad.
“You don’t get it,” I finally said.
“No,” he replied, leaning back in his desk chair, “I don’t because you never talk to me about anything other than the business and family stuff. I’m your brother, Taylor, and yet I barely know you.”
I scoffed, taking a sip of coffee and turning my head as I set a pace around the room. “That’s not true. You know plenty.”
“I know the cursory stuff. I know you put way too much creamer in your coffee and that, up until recently, you hit on every blonde tourist who crossed your path. I know that you make a mean omelet, and you still go to Mom’s early on Sunday to help her cook the family supper. That is, when you’re not busting your ass, working overtime here.”
“You know that?”
“Of course I do,” he answered. “But what I don’t know is why you’ve completely shut yourself off to the possibility of love. What rocked your world so massively that you think something as simple as sharing the first meal of the day with a woman is a death curse?”
“Dad was making breakfast,” I said faintly.
I caught his movement as he swiveled his chair toward me. “What?”
“The morning it happened, he was making us all breakfast. And then he…he was just gone.”
Dean shook his head. “How could you possibly remember that? You were too young.”
“I remember,” I said, the memory replaying like an old home video. It was hazy, no words or conversations.
Just tiny bursts.
My father’s face as he’d turned back from the stove and smiled at me.
My mother running across the kitchen toward his collapsed body.
And then the screams.
The terrible screams.
“I thought you said you didn’t have any memories of Dad,” Dean said, looking somber and sullen, his hand reaching for the back of his neck as he leaned forward in his chair, no longer the picture of casual ease.
“What was the point of telling you that the only memory I have of him is right before he died?”
Dean shook his head, clearly distressed. “We could have talked about it,” he said.
“Talked about what? What is there to talk about, Dean? He died; it’s over.”
“It’s clearly not over. It’s been decades man, and you can’t stand to have breakfast with the woman you love. You think that’s normal?”
I slammed my empty coffee cup down on the counter. “Coming from a guy who gave up on life, that’s rich. If it wasn’t for Cora, you’d still be moping about this goddamn island while I worked my ass off, running the business to take care of you.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, rising to his feet. “I had issues. Still do. I nearly fucking died, Taylor. And when I needed to sort that shit out, you stepped up and did more than your fair share to allow me to do that. So, is that what you need? Time? To work out whatever the hell is going on with you?”
“What?” I looked back at him like he was going insane. “I don’t need time! I don’t have issues to work through. I’m not you!”
My words hurt, and I could see the physical pain in his eyes as they stung their way into his heart.
“Oh, really? Then, how did breakfast go this morning? Planning on doing it again tomorrow? What about the next day?”
Now, it was him doing the hurting, and I couldn’t help but fight back.
Only this time, I didn’t retaliate with words.
I went for his throat instead.
“What the hell—oomph!” he yelled out the moment I tackled him.
Was it a dick move, trying to kick the ass of my brother who happened to be an amputee?
Probably.
But he was the one who would go on and on about wanting to be treated just like everyone else.
Right now, he was being an asshole, and this was how I dealt with assholes.
Dean, the vigilant peacemaker, seemed determined to end this fight before it began, stepping back, fighting me off and holding out his hand as he tried to reason with me. “Taylor, you’re being ridiculous. We’re not kids anymore. This isn’t the living room where we just simply push back the furniture and wrestle out our problems.”
“The fuck it isn’t,” I answered, taking a swing.
His eyes went wide as he realized I wasn’t standing down.
“Seriously, Taylor!” he yelled, dodging me. “Would you take a look at yourself? Do you really think this is normal? If you’d just take a few days and—”
“I don’t have issues!” I roared, my chest heaving as I tried to tackle him, but I forgot who I was fighting.
Even missing an arm, my brother was a beast.
And he didn’t back down in a fight.
Shoving me back, he warily eyed me. “Everyone has issues,” he said, his breathing heavy. “And I think it’s time you come to terms with yours.”
“I told you, I—”
“You have a week off,” he said, his voice firm.
“You can’t just tell me when to take time off. You’re not my boss!”
“I’m not your boss, but I am your partner. And, right now, you’re worthless to just about everyone. So, go—”
“Dean, this isn’t cool. You can’t—.”
“Get out of here, Taylor. Don’t make me call Macon and press assault charges on my own brother.”
My mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t.”
His eyes met mine. “You want to try me?” he asked. “Maybe a night in the slammer would give you an issue or two since you seem to be so free and clear of them.”
A dark scowl took hold of my expression. “You’re an asshole, Dean.”
He shook his head, his breathing still heavy. “That might be true, but I’m an asshole who cares about you.”
“Crappy way of showing it.”
“Maybe by the end of the week, you’ll change your mind.”
“Don’t count on it,” I said, making my way toward the door, my chest still heaving from our altercation.
“And, Taylor?” he said just before I pushed my way out. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I let out a sadistic laugh.
Now, why would I do that?
“Hey, Lani? You okay?”
Molly’s concerned words pierced through the trance I’d been in for what seemed like forever. How long had I been staring at these flames slowly crackling away in the fireplace of the inn?
“What?” I managed to say, finally able to tear my eyes away.
My innkeeper and new friend gave me a sideways glance, walking the rest of the way into the parlor. She took a seat on the couch next to me, although I was on the floor, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, looking extremely pathetic.
She picked up the empty coffee cup, giving it a quick sniff. “I came by to do my last check on everything before bed. Did this have whiskey in it?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No,” I answered. “Although it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Do you know how hard it is to find liquor in this town after six o’clock?”
She laughed. “Try being a teenager here.” Giving a quick nod toward the kitchen, she winked. “Next time, there’s whiskey up above the refrigerator. I use it in some of my recipes sometimes, but I’ve learned to hide it from the guests.”
“Now, you tell me. That was the one place I didn’t look.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “So, what did he do?”
Closing my eyes, I could still
feel his lips against my skin, hear his voice as he’d called out my name.
Had it all been a lie? A ruse? A fucking game?
“He bought my hotel,” I finally said.
“What?” The word came out far louder than either of us had expected. “Man, you go away for a few days and all hell breaks loose.”
I nodded, the news still shocking to even me, and I’d had twenty-four hours to let it marinate in my brain. Yet still, I couldn’t process it. Obviously realizing this was going to be a longer conversation than she’d planned, she settled in next to me.
I was grateful for the company. I’d missed her while she was gone. I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to value our little talks in the hallways and just before breakfast. Although they were brief, they always managed to cheer me up and brighten my day.
Just like the woman sitting next to me.
The last few days without her had been basically hell.
“So let me get this straight,” she began. “Taylor, the guy who is head over heels in love with you, that guy bought your hotel?”
I let out a stilted laugh. “You mean, Taylor, the guy who basically ghosted me a week ago and then didn’t even have the common decency to tell me to my face how he’d screwed me over. Instead, he waited for my dad’s assistant to send over the official letter of purchase.” My voice was barely a whisper now as I tried as hard as I could to fight back the tears I’d been holding back.
I would not cry over this man.
I would not cry anymore over this man, I thought.
“What?” Molly seemed shocked, finally noticing the letter in question sitting on the coffee table. Picking it up, she read through it, seeing the proof of his betrayal for herself. “The last time I saw you, you two seemed pretty happy.”
I thought back to that day at the fall festival.
We had been happy.
Deliriously so.
We’d raced back to his house, barely able to contain our pulsating need for each other. My heart had raced as he pushed me through the open door, only to make love to me against it moments later.
He’d never taken me there before.
I had known it meant something.
