Even with Dale, while he was charming, flattering, and persistent at first, our marriage mostly just made sense. We were both young professionals on the rise, both hardworking and driven. We liked the same movies, shared a similar sense of humor, and we wanted the same things, like the townhouse and the Prius. We were happy together for awhile. For the most part, I was perfectly content with our marriage—watching a movie on the sofa, sipping wine on friends’ yachts, and at least one orgasm now and then. We were intimate enough, but Dale didn’t like going down on me and he wasn’t big on head, so my O’s came every third or fourth time (if I was lucky). I knew from my conversations with friends that a thirty percent success ratio was better than nothing.
Which begs the question, why am I now losing cool over the antithesis of sensible and responsible? Why am I fantasizing about a monosyllabic hulk of a man with hands the size of baseball gloves and a mysterious leg tattoo? I ponder the thought while standing by the glass sliding doors and gazing out at the ocean. I figure it must be the proximity, and there was only one solution to proximity: I have to find a job and get my own place A.S.A.P.
Even though I paid for the suite through the month, I have no choice but to be proactive when it comes to my next move. I can’t stay here forever, and the faster I’m gone, the better Kane will feel. I make my decision and march back to his place, knocking on his door to demand respect for the remainder of my stay. It’s early afternoon, so perhaps he’s back at the bar, but the Jeep is in the driveway and I figure it’s worth a try. I rap on the door and there’s no answer. After a minute or so, I knock again and wait.
He answers eventually. He’s shirtless and soaking wet, and holy hell does he ever look pissed. “What?” He snaps.
The more I try to keep my eyes on his face, the more that they act on their own accord, traveling down his wide chest and onwards to his tanned stomach, his navel barely visible above his towel. I involuntarily lick my lips. When I look back up, his jaw is locked in a grimace and his neck muscles are strained.
“Forget something?” He says, curtly. I exhale a breath and avert my eyes. The respect I was about to demand goes out the window, and I search my mind for something to say.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your…shower?” I blurt out. “It’s stupid, never mind.” I turn to go, only to hear him sigh behind me.
“You came all the way over here for something, Ashley. What is it?”
As I turn back around, I realize that I have no idea what I’m doing here. I haven’t thought for one minute about what to say. However, I’m nothing if not quick on my feet. “I need to look for a job, and I was wondering if you have a copy of that local paper I’ve seen around?” He begins to open his mouth, and I hold up my hand. “Before you even say it, yes, I know what Google is, but I find that sometimes, especially in smaller communities, the paper is your best bet.”
He stares at me for a second before speaking. “You need a job so badly that you’re almost breaking down my door?”
I roll my eyes. “I quit the job that I had back home, so the obvious answer is yes.”
“I just thought…” He starts to say, but I cut him off.
“You thought that I was another mainlander playing Hawaiian holiday for a few weeks, at which point I’d chicken out and hightail it home?” I arch one eyebrow at him. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not me. I moved here. I live here now, so you better get used to seeing me around.”
He shakes his head and floors me with an actual smile. It’s not a full grin, but it’s enough to show off his dimples and snowflake-white teeth. “I guess you better come inside then.”
He steps to the side and gestures for me to enter. I look around, surprised, as an invite inside wasn’t what I’d expected. In fact, I thought he’d throw the paper at me and slam the door. I walk in ahead of him, hearing him clear his throat behind me. “Head on upstairs, I’m just going to get changed.” I watch as he disappears into one of the rooms on the main floor, before my feet carry me up a flight of beautifully polished wooden stairs.
The upper floor is shaped like a circle, with floor to ceiling windows on almost every wall, which look out over the wrap-around lanai. A large ceiling fan hangs from the peak of Kane’s thatched roof, and the living space is open concept and sparsely decorated. It faces the unique raw edge wooden countertop in the kitchen. I spot the standard “guy” furniture, including a leather sectional, simple dinette set, and one surfboard mounted above the flat screen television, but otherwise the space is undecorated. The classy furniture doesn’t exactly suggest that Kane lacks photos, paintings, or throw pillows, but still the surfboard is the only ornamental addition to the room.
Wandering over to the single shelf by the window, I notice one white candle burning down the wick, flanked by the tiniest pair of flip-flops. The sliding glass doors are open, so I walk onto the expansive lanai to appreciate the gorgeously unobstructed ocean view. There’s one staircase leading from the deck into the lush but unkempt garden, which opens up to the rocky beach. The only eyesore is the hastily-filled cement pool, but otherwise it’s a breathtaking place.
“Find the paper?” His voice surprises me, and I whirl around to face him. He has changed into comfortable looking sweat-shorts and a black tank top—barefoot of course, with his wet hair appearing even darker than usual. He looks delicious enough to eat.
“I didn’t look for it.”
He flashes me a grin. “I thought women liked to snoop.”
“Wow, sexist much?”
“Well, do you?” He’s so forward and direct—it’s kind of unnerving—but after years of bullshit back-and-forth with Dale, I appreciate the change of pace.
“Maybe I do, but that’s not the point.” I respond with a smile on my face. It’s the perfect ice-breaker moment to ask about the cement pool, the tiny flip-flops by the candle, or all those rumors about his family, but I can’t seem to find the nerve. Instead, I pick the safest topic possible.
“You surf?” My eyes travel to the board above the TV.
“Used to.”
“Were you any good?”
He laughs. “No one I’ve brought here has ever asked me that before.”
No one he’s brought here? It’s obvious he’s talking about other women, and the thought makes my stomach churn.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” I mutter. He must notice the change in my mood, because he reaches forward and tips up my chin with his finger.
“Hey, it’s a good question, says a lot about you. I’ll bet you’re the competitive type.”
“Hells yah, I am!”
He drops his hand, and I fight the urge to rub where his finger touched.
“Yeah, I was good.”
“Then why don’t you surf anymore?”
“I just don’t.”
He cuts the conversation short and turns towards the kitchen. It’s obvious that I’ve overstepped again. Apparently I’m still learning where the lines are drawn. He rummages around in the recycling bin and extracts the local paper. Adele was reading it on the beach, and if it’s good enough for the locals, it’s good enough for me. Kane passes the paper across the kitchen island.
“Thank you. I’ll bring it back when I’m done.”
“Don’t bother.” He shakes his head. “What kind of job are you looking for anyways?” He sounds genuinely curious. It might be the first question he’s asked me that didn’t come with insults and orders.
I turn the paper over in my hands. “Honestly? Just about anything at this point. I was a broker in San Francisco, but I’d have to relicense to do that here in Hawaii, and I did more corporate real estate development work anyway. With everything that’s happened recently, I’m not sure it’s something that I want to do anymore. Maybe I’ll open a bar,” I add, teasingly. “Nothing like a little friendly competition.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Margins are terrible, and it’ll be the end of your social life.”
“Food
could help with that,” I try. “With the margins I mean, not the social life.”
The tone of his voice is full of warning. “Ashley…”
“Okay, okay, no food. Have it your way.”
“I usually do.”
“Why am I’m not surprised by that comment?” I roll my eyes, but there’s a strange heat behind his words, like he’s testing me. I catch his eyes in careful perusal of my body, and his penetrating gaze makes me feel naked.
“Thanks for the paper, Kane. I can see myself out.” I head for the front door alone, but he follows me anyway, leaning his large body against the frame and crossing his arms.
I step into the sweltering heat, glancing back to see Kane eyeing me like a statue.
“See you around, I guess.”
“You coming to Salty’s tonight?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Bye, Kane,” I say, and he grunts. Total caveman—and damn if I don’t envy Tarzan’s Jane right now.
Chapter 8
I find myself walking the road to Salty’s again that very evening. Kayla is in Honolulu for some surfing event, and Adele confessed to spending the night with Tinder and a bottle of thirty-year-old scotch, in an effort to “suss out a suitable lesbian partner” (her words, not mine), so I’m flying solo. When I arrive, Lance and Pancho are by the bar with another man who I don’t recognize, so I find myself a seat near the end.
“You look nice, Red. Paia looks good on you!” Pancho says, giving me a friendly whistle. He greets me with Hawaii’s universal thumb-and-pinky-finger gesture, called the shaka.
“Thanks, Pancho.” I give him a big smile. “How’s your daughter?”
“She’s amazing.” I don’t miss the look of love reflected in his eyes. “My wife and Melia are visiting family on the Big Island this week. I miss them both like crazy.”
“He is literally going crazy,” Lance teases. “He hasn’t stopped talking about them all night.”
“Well, I think that’s pretty sweet.” The man to Lance’s right gives me a curious look, but he doesn’t smile. He looks native Hawaiian with his dark hair and matching eyes. He’s wearing a neat collared polo shirt and slacks, and he’s handsome, though not in a way that makes my lady parts tingle. No, that honor seems to be reserved for—
“Kane!” Lance shouts from across the bar.
Kane shouts right back. “What do you want Lance?”
“Ashley’s here. Free drinks for tenants, remember?” He says, shooting me a wink. Kane grumbles under his breath but then concedes, pouring me a glass of white wine and sliding it across the bar.
“What if I don’t want wine?” I protest, and he snorts.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I’m not a beggar Kane—you offered. I can pay for my own damn drinks!” I say, through clenched teeth.
The unknown man in the polo shirt chooses this exact moment to introduce himself, leaning across Lance and extending his hand. “Hi Ashley. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Taylor Akana, Kane’s oldest and dearest friend.”
“Kane has friends?” I say, lifting an eyebrow, which earns me laughter from both Pancho and Lance.
“She knows you well already, Keo.” Taylor shouts after his friend. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ashley,” he mock-whispers.
“I’m listening.”
“Underneath that prickly exterior, Kane Keo is just a big softie. Hard on the outside and mush at the center—he’s like a pineapple that way.”
“Hmm…” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know if I believe you.”
“Dude, did you just compare me to a fruit?” Kane gives Taylor an incredulous look.
“Yeah, but you’d be a Maui Gold for sure,” he teases.
Kane shakes his head and gives Taylor a look, throwing the bar towel over his shoulder and refilling everyone’s drinks but mine. I barely have anything left in my glass, but I don’t let it bother me. Instead I sit down beside Lance and fall into a conversation with Taylor; apparently, he operates his own tour-boat/diving franchise across the islands, and he’s known Kane since they were kids. He’s a nice guy and an excellent conversationalist; I wonder how he’s lasted all these years in the company of Kane’s ornery.
When Taylor excuses himself, I turn my attention back to Lance.
“How was Hana?” He asks, tossing the blond hair from his eyes.
“Oh, we didn’t quite make it.” I steal a glance at Kane. “But I did see a black sand beach!”
“Awe…that’s a bummer. Why’d you stop?”
I feel Kane watching us from behind the bar, and I wonder if he’ll say anything. When he doesn’t jump into help, I have to think on my feet.
“I-I was feeling a little sick, so I asked Kane to turn back,” I stammer.
“Understandable.” Lance nods. “That road is hella windy. But if you’re up for another try sometime, I’d love to show you Haleakala Park. It’s the largest dormant volcano in the world. The summit is big enough to hold the whole island of Manhattan. It also has some pretty gnarly trails, winding their way around cinder cones and lava flows.”
His description feels like poetry. “That sounds incredible.”
“There’s another trail we could try some time as well, through the bamboo forest. It’s got all these cool freshwater pools and waterfalls.” His enthusiasm is so infectious that I can’t help but nod along.
“But the best is the Paliku backcountry campsite. It’s an awesome hike on sliding sands with some switchbacks, but it’s 100% worth the effort.”
“Camping actually sounds pretty fun,” I say, wondering how long it’s been since I slept outside.
Lance leans back and slings an arm behind my stool. “Only got the one tent though,” he says, winking.
I can see Kane’s shoulders stiffen behind the bar. “That hike is dangerous,” he snaps, his full attention on the conversation now.
“Why are you always eavesdropping?” I ask him.
“He’s right, Red,” Pancho pipes up. “It’s pretty rough. If I were you, I’d take baby steps. Kipahulu is drive-in camping right on the water with views that’ll blow your mind, and Keiko and I would be happy to lend you a tent.” He gives Lance a look, but Lance just shrugs and dazzles me with his smile.
“Maybe it would be good for you,” Lance says. “To cleanse the bad and make room for the new. Seriously, it’s like a religious experience.”
I can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s right. I’ve travelled across the ocean for a fresh start, but have I really started living? I turn my attention to Pancho. “Can I borrow that tent of yours after all?”
“You betcha. I’ll bring it by your place tomorrow. I have a backpack you can use, too, if you need one.”
“Thanks, Pancho!”
I hear Lance chuckle from beside him. “Shame, I was hoping we could share.” He shoots me a wink, and meanwhile Kane levels me with a nasty glare.
“Sure you know what you’re doing though, Red? Haleakala is no joke,” Pancho says, but Lance interjects before I have a chance to answer.
“I’ll keep her safe. Ashley, how about I pick you up Sunday morning?”
“I was actually thinking about asking Kayla to join. Maybe we can meet you there?”
“Sure.” Lance smiles, but he looks a little deflated. As much as I like him, I’m not ready for an overnight hike with a guy I barely know.
“But I’m really looking forward to seeing the crater from your perspective. I just hope I can keep up!”
“I have no doubt that you’ll keep up with me.” He brightens noticeably and gives me a friendly peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you Sunday then.”
Pancho whistles through his teeth. “Boys got some alas on him, that’s for sure.”
“Stupid.” I hear Kane grumble under his breath, but I can’t tell if he’s talking about me or the hike. At this point, I don’t even care. Of all the people I’ve met thus far, Kane Keo
is the only one who thinks I’m incapable of doing things on my own. I’m looking forward to showing him just how wrong he is.
Chapter 9
“Sunscreen?” Kayla asks.
“Check.”
“Proper footwear?”
I glance down at my sturdiest running shoes. “Check.”
“Condoms?” She snickers, and I give her a look.
“Hardly, Lance is a friend.”
“I wasn’t talking about Lance.” She points out the windshield as we pull into the car lot of Haleakala National Park.
I find the back of Lance’s head first; he waits before a huge pile of bags, and only when he steps aside do I get a full view of the guy behind him.
“Oh no, not happening,” I mutter, and Kane’s head snaps up, as if he can hear me. He tracks the car’s movement with a scowl.
I take a deep breath, evidently frustrated, and Kayla starts to laugh. “Camping with Keo…I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Not just Kane,” I say, pointing to Taylor, who just climbed out of the car beside ours.
“Bloody hell,” Kayla hisses under her breath. “You’re on your own, Ashley.”
“No way, you’re not leaving me! We’re in this together.” I shake my head vigorously. “What’s your problem with Taylor anyway? He seems like a nice guy, at least a thousand times nicer than Kane.”
“Listen to you!” She clicks her tongue and shakes out her auburn hair. “There is no such thing as a nice guy, and the sooner you realize it, the better.”
I roll my eyes but don’t respond. She hops out of the car like a bouncy ball, and I slide slowly out the passenger door, grabbing Pancho’s backpack and tent in the process. Before I even have time to throw it over my shoulder, I’ve already tripped on my own two feet. An animal cry escapes from my chest as my ankle rolls to the side. I hit the dirt before managing to right myself, glancing up to see if anyone noticed, only to find a looming shadow altogether blocking out the sun.
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