Her Hawaiian Homecoming (Mills & Boon Superromance)

by Cara Lockwood

  Perspiration dripped down his back as he grabbed a wrench from his trusty red metal toolbox. He tipped up his straw cowboy hat to get a better look at the problem: a leaky pipe leading to the holding tank. Misuko—Misu to those who knew her—might be dead, God rest her soul, but he still had a job to do on the plantation.

  “You gonna stare at that pipe all day or fix it?” The voice belonged to Kai Brady, the dark-haired thirtyish pro surfer and Big Island living legend. He’d walked over from the house next door, which belonged to his aunt Kaimana, and where he’d grown up. Now he lived in a luxury condo near the beach, where the biggest breaks of the island rolled in daily. He still competed, carried a few endorsement deals and managed to find some other businesses to keep himself busy.

  Dallas stood, and the two old friends clasped hands, a big grin spreading on Dallas’s face.

  “Why aren’t you out surfing?”

  “Already been,” Kai admitted, and smiled. “Started at five, done by ten. If you don’t watch the sun rise over the ocean, what’s the point?”

  “Indeed.” Dallas laughed. “And who’s running the coffee shop?”

  “Jesse, naturally.” Hula Coffee was one of his side businesses, a coffee shop in nearby Kailua-Kona he ran with his half sister, Jesse. “It’s slow. You know the tourists don’t get up till eleven.” Kai shrugged. His eyes were covered by mirrored sunglasses, and he wore his thick black hair short and spiky. Kai, a quarter Hawaiian, a quarter Japanese and half Irish, was slimmer than Dallas, but nearly as tall. He was all wiry, tanned muscle.

  “Aunt Kaimana told me to come check on you. She’s worried, now that you own this place.”

  “Half this place,” Dallas corrected. He still couldn’t quite believe Misu had put him in her will. She’d been like family to him, but still. He wasn’t, technically, related. Where he came from in West Texas, only blood mattered. “The other half goes to her granddaughter.”

  “Kaimana says she should’ve left it all to you. She’s worried about the festival.”

  “It’s still seven months away!” Dallas exclaimed. Granted, the Kona Coffee Festival and Competition every fall was a district-wide event. Anyone who grew coffee on the Big Island participated, and winners got bragging rights all year round. The Kona Coffee Estate had lost out the past three years to Hawaiian Queen Coffee, but Dallas was hoping to change that this year with a new roaster and renewed determination. It had been Misu’s greatest wish to win.

  Linus the goat, Misu’s old “organic lawnmower,” as she used to call her, ambled up then. She brayed and looked at the two men, but neither had snacks for her.

  “Never too early to start strategizing. That’s what Kaimana says.” Kai shrugged. “And forget the competition. The shop needs your coffee. It’s the favorite house brew.” Hula Roast bought half the coffee produced on the estate. Without Hula Coffee, the Kona Coffee Estate would’ve gone bankrupt years ago. But people here on the Big Island looked out for one another. Tourists came and went, but locals were forever.

  “I’m worried the granddaughter may want to sell. I can’t break up the estate. Not if I want it to work.” The roasting barn was on her side of the middle-line marker, which ran east to west across the property. He’d have to cough up tens of thousands to replace those buildings, and he’d have to give up prime coffee-growing land to build the barn, which he didn’t want to do but would if he had to. Coffee growing had seeped into his blood. Learning how to grow something as special as Kona coffee—a kind grown nowhere else on earth—had been a revelation. He’d finally found work he was proud of doing. The Kona Coffee Estate became the home he’d always wished he’d had growing up, and nothing scared him more than losing it.

  The tall coffee trees stood, some branches heavy with sweet-smelling white flowers and others teaming with green coffee berries. When they turned red, it would be time to harvest. Kai kicked a toe in the dirt. He shifted uncomfortably. Clearly, he had something on his mind other than coffee.

  “I saw Jennifer yesterday,” he said at last. “She came into the shop.”

  Dallas’s spine stiffened. He didn’t want to hear about Jennifer.

  “Yeah?” Dallas tried to keep his voice neutral, but failed. Even at the very mention of her, his blood pressure shot up, and he had to fight the urge to ball his hands into fists. His ex’s name had become a fighting word.

  “Kayla was with her. She’s growing big. Like waist high now. She’s going to start kindergarten in the fall. She asked about you.”

  The words felt like poison darts aimed at his back. “I don’t want to talk about them.” Dallas set his mouth in a thin line, feeling every bit of raging emotion running through his chest. Kai meant well, he knew it, but he couldn’t talk about Jennifer and Kayla. Not now. Maybe not ever. It was bad enough he saw Jennifer’s beaming face on all those real estate billboards from here to Hilo, now featuring Jennifer Thomas, Hawaii reality show star. He didn’t need any more bitter reminders.

  “I’ve got to get this pipe fixed.” Dallas turned away from Kai, angrily clamping the wrench onto the pipe and giving it a twist.

  “Hey, man. I know it’s not my business. You guys were so happy... I just... I mean, I’ve heard the rumors...”

  “And you believe them?” Dallas wouldn’t be surprised. The Big Island might be the largest in the Hawaii chain, but it was still just like one big floating small town. No local got to keep secrets.

  “Of course not.” Kai sounded offended. “After all you’ve done for me—for Jesse? Are you seriously asking me that question?”

  Dallas felt rightfully put in his place.

  “The rumors do make you sound like a real asshole,” Kai continued. “You should just tell me the real story, so I can set the record straight. You know I’ve had my share of women troubles.” Being one of the wealthiest and most famous surfers in the world came with a price: an endless parade of hot, gold-digging model girlfriends who made his life miserable.

  Even though he knew Kai would understand the deal with Jennifer, would more than understand, he’d relate, he still couldn’t tell. Wouldn’t.

  Kai looked at Dallas for a long time, waiting for an answer. Dallas focused on the pipe, twisting it hard.

  “Not going to happen.” Dallas met Kai’s gaze, a stubborn set to his chin, the brim of his cowboy hat throwing a shadow across his face. He looked away first, assessing his plumbing handiwork. “There, all done.” He dropped the tool back into his box and snapped the metal lid shut.

  “Fine,” Kai said. “Aunt Kaimana says you shouldn’t leave crap like that bottled up inside. It’ll cause cancer.”

  “Oh? Is that an old Hawaiian proverb?”

  “With her, everything is a Hawaiian proverb,” Kai said and grinned. “She’s sticking up for you, by the way. She says there are at least two sides to every story.”

  “Aunt Kaimana is a wise woman.” That was all Dallas planned to say about what happened with Jennifer.

  “Uh-huh. By the way, Jesse said she doesn’t care if you get back with Jennifer or not, but that you shouldn’t be single.”

  “Why not?”

  “She says it’s tacky to be a tourist attraction. If you keep sleeping with all the girls on spring break, then she’s going to start printing up brochures.”

  Dallas felt a reluctant chuckle pop up in his throat. Jesse would do it, too. She was not the kind of woman to make an idle threat.

  “I don’t sleep with college kids,” Dallas corrected. “I like women with more experience. Besides, I hardly ever take them home.” He had drinks with tourists, and once, only once, he’d hooked up with one, but by and large, he usually just drove them home and tucked their drunk, slurring selves safely into their hotel beds—fully clothed. He thought about the marketing executive last weekend who’d been so intent on learning all about the aloha spirit until she’d had her fourth mai tai.

  “You don’t take them to your house because you probably hang out at their resort. Easier to sneak out in
the morning.”

  Dallas said nothing. If Kai wanted to believe he was getting laid every weekend, then he’d just leave it at that.

  Kai shook his head, his mirrored sunglasses catching the light of the sun. “Aren’t you too old to be chasing tourists? I am, and I’m a year younger than you.”

  “Tourists are safer than locals.” Dallas swiped at the sweat on his neck.

  “Why? Because they don’t stick around?” Kai cocked an eyebrow, but Dallas just half shrugged one shoulder. The truth was, the locals had heard all the rumors, and he knew for sure that plenty of them believed the lies Jennifer spread.

  Kai laughed and gave his friend a hard shove. “You’re not in your twenties anymore. You need to evolve, man.”

  “I tried evolving. It didn’t work for me.” Dallas thought about Jennifer again, and he felt a cold, hard pit in his stomach. “Anyway, I’ve got to clean up before Misu’s granddaughter gets here. What’s her name? Alani, I think.”

  “You mean Allie.” Kai whistled and shook his head. “I haven’t seen that girl in years.”

  “You know her?”

  “Yeah, we grew up as neighbors, went to kindergarten together. She moved to the mainland for third grade. She liked mangos. That’s what I remember. And she was a super tomboy, climbed every tree we had.”

  “Misu has a picture of her as a girl on her refrigerator.” In that grainy old photo, Allie was a slim, lanky thing, her dark, nearly black hair in a high ponytail, standing next to Misu, who had on a big straw-brimmed hat. Misu kept the picture on a magnetic frame on her refrigerator. “Still doesn’t explain why she missed Misu’s funeral.”

  “Hey, don’t be so hard on her. I’m sure she had her reasons. She had it really rough when she was little. There was a bad car accident. Her dad died. It was a miracle she survived. Anyway, she and her mom moved to the mainland after that.”

  “He died?” Dallas knew how that felt. His father had passed on when he was just nineteen. But as a kid of...what, eight? That must’ve been rough.

  The sound of tires on the gravel driveway interrupted the conversation, and both men turned, staring at the path, half hidden by the tall, treelike coffee plants growing in thick rows together. A small, compact white rental car gently nosed its way up the drive. Allie, Dallas assumed.

  Linus the goat ambled around the corner, and the driver, skittish, veered hard right—too sharply. The tiny compact tire went off the driveway into the ruts on the side of the road with a hard thump, and splattered the trunks of the coffee trees with mud. Dallas straightened his hat as he walked out to save the damsel in distress.

  That was when she opened the door and got out to inspect the stuck wheel.

  This was no gangly preadolescent girl, like the one in the dated photo on Misu’s fridge. This was a full-blown woman, late twenties, with long, lean legs in formfitting jeans, and thick raven-black hair that fell long and straight past her shoulders. She did look like Misu’s kin, had the same chin and pronounced cheekbones. But she was clearly an ethnic mix: not wholly Japanese, but not wholly something else, either. She had flawless olive skin and dark eyes, her thick lashes magnified by mascara. Her thin, just-defined arms that jutted from her short-sleeved T-shirt showed just how fit she was. She had a sweater wrapped around her tiny waist, a wool remnant from Chicago, no doubt, as were her high-heeled leather ankle boots. She flicked a long, shiny strand of hair from her eyes, and as she inspected the damage, the muddied wheel sank three inches into the dark muck. If she were out on the main road, at least three cars would’ve stopped, men stumbling over themselves trying to help her.

  Allie watched Dallas’s profile carefully as he tried not to look worried.

  Allie slipped her hand in her pocket, finding the forgotten pieces of Teri’s mango candy there. Absently, she pulled two out, offering Dallas one.

  “Do you think Kayla was there? When the tsunami hit?”

  “No. I...saw her at the evacuation center. She made it out.” Dallas gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

  “Good.” Allie felt genuine relief as she unwrapped a piece of mango candy and ate one. She was glad the kids got out. The idea of a wall of water demolishing a place filled with little kids...she shuddered at the thought.

  “Still, I should’ve gone to check on her,” Dallas said, voice sounding ragged.

  Allie recognized the guilt in his voice. She knew what it meant to feel as if you hadn’t done everything to save someone you love.

  “We didn’t have twenty minutes, Dallas,” Allie said, hoping her reasoning would get through. “All the news reports said we missed the water by maybe minutes. We were lucky to get out, and to get Teri and her stylists and Jesse out in time. If we’d stayed even five minutes longer, none of us would’ve made it.”

  Allie saw the hard, glassy look in Dallas’s eyes and realized her words might not matter. How many times over the years had she been told it wasn’t her fault that her father had died? When had she ever believed it?

  “Besides, you said yourself, she was fine,” Allie said.

  “I know.” Dallas ran a hand through his thick blond hair, and it jutted out in all directions. Allie wanted to ease his worry, but wasn’t sure how. “But I lived with her for nearly three years. I was there when she had her first day of preschool. And, then... Well, I know she’s not my responsibility anymore, but...”

  “You still care about her,” Allie finished. Allie wondered just how deeply his feelings for them still ran.

  The streetlights beside them were out, and the houses along the ridge were dark. Another power outage, added to the many. Dallas studied the road intently, the bright beams of the truck lighting the way.

  “I nearly adopted her. If we had gotten married, I would’ve been her stepfather. Her own dad hadn’t been involved at all.”

  “What happened with you and Jennifer?” Allie had to know. He said he hadn’t cheated, but she couldn’t make the puzzle pieces fit.

  Dallas let out a long sigh. “Jennifer is pretty damaged,” he admitted. “I guess I’m a sucker for damsels in distress.”

  Allie barked out a laugh as she thought about just how much of a damsel she’d been lately. “No kidding.”

  Dallas sent her a rueful smile. “Jennifer’s damage is all on the inside. Her father left when she was little. She got pregnant with Kayla right out of high school. She was one of these girls who wanted attention from everyone—it didn’t matter who. She’d go with any guy in front of her. I thought I could change her, could get her to understand that all she needed was me, but it took me a long time to realize you can’t fix someone else, no matter how much you love them.”

  Allie agreed this was true. It was one of the reasons why she knew it wouldn’t work with Jason.

  “We were together two years before I caught her cheating the first time, with one of her rich real estate clients. Against my better judgment, I took her back. For Kayla’s sake. We were a family, and I felt I owed it to her to work it out. We went to counseling. We really tried. But then I found out she hadn’t quit stepping out on me. In fact, she’d made it her regular hobby. The last time, I found her in our bed with the reality TV producer she still works with.”

  “Oh, Dallas.” Allie felt instant empathy, putting herself back in the afternoon she’d opened that package meant for Jason.

  Dallas’s eyes narrowed as he watched the road. “I wish pride was the only thing she took from me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dallas swallowed. “She...” Dallas paused, holding back. Allie could tell this was something he didn’t want to share, that this was the hardest part of the betrayal.

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “It’s... Well, it doesn’t matter. After that, I couldn’t stay anymore, and I had to say goodbye to Kayla. I asked Jennifer if I could still adopt her, but Jennifer was livid, angry at me for walking out.”

  “How could she expect you to stay?” Allie couldn’t
believe the woman’s gall.

  Dallas’s shoulders sank in weary indifference. “She gives everyone in her life an excellent reason to leave, and yet she’s always surprised when they do.”

  “It’s terribly sad, but you can’t blame yourself,” Allie said, realizing how empty the words might sound to him, knowing how they’d sounded when her friends told her the same thing. When someone cheated, there was always an undercurrent of “Why didn’t you make him happy enough to stay?” No one said it out loud, but Allie felt it dozens of times, in the questions people asked. Did he ever tell you he was unhappy? Did you know he was pulling away?

  “I know the feeling. I do. But those were choices Jennifer made, and what happened now—if something happened to Kayla that we don’t know yet—you can’t take responsibility for it.” Allie felt more certain of this than she had of anything in the past year. She only hoped Dallas believed it.

  She reached over and put her hand over his on the gearshift of his truck. He glanced down at their hands. When he looked back to the road, he hit his brakes. Water completely covered the road up ahead. Allie craned her neck, peering into the darkness. A poolside lounge chair floated by them, and she realized debris littered the water: splinters of wood, pieces of glass and a random single flip-flop crowded together. Watching the neon purple flip-flop bobbing in the water, her stomach shrank. She wondered what had happened to the person wearing it.

  “Are all the roads like this?” she asked.

  “I hope not.” Dallas put the truck in Reverse and then whipped it around, backtracking to a small residential road that he took south. “I’m going to try to get us closer.” All the homes were dark and quiet as they glided past. These houses, just beyond the reach of the tidal wave, had been spared. Dallas slowed the truck as they reached the main road. He stopped, and they both stared out the windshield in complete shock. Here, some of the water had receded, but even in the narrow beam of the headlights, they could see the path of destruction. An entire gas station and convenience store had been completely wiped out; random piles of brick, smashed wooden planks and pieces of road signs littered the ground. Water lapped at some of the debris, and, inexplicably, a huge round sea turtle lay half-stranded between an overturned dumpster and someone’s old spare tire, a large flipper smacking against the muck.