Her Hawaiian Homecoming. Cara Lockwood
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and Allie handed Kai the bag, who took it up the porch steps and avoided Dallas’s eyes. He hadn’t seen Kai so protective of someone since, well, his sister, Jesse. Kai wasn’t kidding about her being family. He followed Kai up the porch and slipped the key into Misu’s lock.
“I’ve got to go check on Jesse at the coffee shop,” Kai said. “It was good to see you, Allie. Though I’m really sorry about Misu.”
A shadow of sadness passed across her face. “Thanks, Kai.” Allie smiled warmly at him, and Dallas felt a little tinge of jealousy. He wanted all of Allie’s smiles.
“You remember Jesse?”
Allie’s eyes lit up. “Of course! She hated pink!”
“That’s her, and she still does.” Kai grinned. “Jesse still lives next door with Auntie. We’ll have you over for dinner sometime soon.” Kai backed off the porch. “Or come for a free cup of coffee at Hula’s. And if this guy gives you any trouble, you call me.” Kai pointed his house key at Dallas, a warning.
“I won’t be trouble,” Dallas promised.
“You’d better not be.” Kai wasn’t kidding. Kai was normally a lighthearted, easygoing guy, and when he got serious, which was hardly ever, Dallas paid attention.
“I’d love to come over for dinner and see Jesse. Good to see you, Kai.” Allie waved. Dallas had left Misu’s place exactly as it had been when she’d gone into the hospital after her sudden and devastating heart attack. All of her furniture and most of her clothes were still here. The simple overstuffed white linen couch she loved sat in the middle of the living room, draped with the pink-and-yellow Hawaiian-breadfruit quilt. The kitchen was dated but clean, its white-tiled floor and older appliances ready for use, and the breakfast nook nearby, which acted as her dining room. Little had changed in twenty years. Dallas knew Allie had been here once. That photograph had been taken right on Misu’s porch, so she’d been here then anyway. Her house would’ve looked much the same.
Allie went straight to the kitchen, running her finger along the old yellow countertop, stopping at the refrigerator. She plucked the photo of her and Misu from the freezer door and stared at it, running a finger over Misu’s face.
“She was a good woman,” Dallas felt the need to say.
“She was,” Allie agreed, her voice sounding far away. She put the photo back and blinked as she looked around the room. She gave the small house a quick tour. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Don’t you remember?” he asked her.
Allie shook her head.
“It’s outside,” he said.
“Outside?” she echoed.
* * *
ALLIE STOOD AND stared at her only working shower.
It was outside, in a cabana with walls but no roof. She plopped down her bag and stared.
How on earth had this little tidbit about her grandmother’s house escaped her? She used to live here when she was little, that much she remembered. But how old had she been? Seven? Eight? That was before... Well, before the car accident, before she and her mom moved to the mainland, where it had been just the two of them against the world. Of course, with her mom working two jobs, it had pretty much been Allie all on her own. Allie preferred it that way, actually. Anytime she depended on anyone—like Jason—they failed her.
“So if you want to talk about the estate, I’d be happy to...” Dallas stood by her, lingering near the door. Allie did not turn to look at him. If she did, she’d stare at his muscled chest, and she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t have time for guys who looked as if they belonged in a sexy-cowboy calendar. She had sworn off men this time, possibly for good. The fact that she was very aware of his every movement made her feel jumpy and anxious. Her mind might want to be done with men, but clearly her body wasn’t. It had other ideas about what she ought to do with Dallas McCormick.
“I just want to shower.”
“Oh...sure.” Dallas paused, as if waiting for her to invite him in. She nearly barked a laugh out loud. With abs like that, and those crystal-blue eyes, he was probably used to women throwing themselves at him all the time. Well, not this one, buddy.
“I’d like some privacy.” Allie was proud that she made it sound official.
“Sure thing, ma’am.” Dallas grinned, unoffended, and then tipped his hat at her as he backed out of the cabana. The door slapped shut behind him, and Allie moved to secure the bolt. With Dallas and his broad, chiseled chest out of the room, Allie felt as though she could breathe for the first time. She stared up to where the ceiling should be but saw only blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.
“How are you supposed to take a shower when it’s raining?” she muttered to herself.
Allie whipped up her thick jet-black hair off her neck, panting in the Hawaiian humidity as sticky sweat trickled down the nape of her neck.
All she remembered from her childhood at Grandma Misu’s were endless afternoons building sand castles on the pristine white beach about a mile away, and of Misu’s sticky sweet homemade mochi rice cakes and mouthwatering teriyaki chicken. She had fond memories of Misu, but hadn’t seen her grandmother in years. Money had always been tight growing up. She and her mom had barely made rent, much less managed to scrape together enough for two plane tickets to Hawaii. But if Allie was honest, since her father died, she’d been in no hurry to come back. For everyone else, Hawaii might be paradise, but for her, it represented just bad memories.
Still, Allie felt a pang of guilt; she should’ve come for her grandmother’s funeral. But it had all been too overwhelming—dealing with Jason and the called-off wedding. She’d been in no shape to travel anyway. She hadn’t been able to get out of bed, much less book a flight.
Jason was just one more person she couldn’t depend on, Allie thought. She tried her best not to slide into a pity party: girl loses her dad in a car accident at age eight, is left with a hardly there, working-two-jobs single mom and then a string of unreliable boyfriends...and now Jason. She hated feeling sorry for herself, but sometimes it beckoned like a warm, cuddly robe. Sometimes she just wanted to slip into it for a little while.
She kept coming back to the single fact that she should’ve known Jason would do this. He’d been her first really serious relationship, but she’d had plenty of short-term boyfriends who’d disappointed in various ways. How could she have been so blind?
Denial. It was probably how she’d spent two years with Jason and never even had an inkling about his penchant for S and M. Granted, he’d been bossy and controlling most of their relationship: always wanting to be the one to decide where they ate, what they did on weekends and even weighing in on what she wore. Sometimes it had grated, but most of the time she’d been fine with just going along. Happy to do what made him happy. He’d always been decidedly in control in the bedroom, but he’d never hit her, not once.
She’d thought she knew him better than anyone, but it turned out she didn’t know him at all.
Just because she didn’t like being beaten like a piñata during sex, she thought bitterly. She was sorry, but she liked pleasure with her sex, not pain. Why did that make her boring?
She blinked fast. No more pity party. That’s quite enough of that, Allie. She should look at the bright side—now she was back on her own. I’ll never have my heart broken again, because there’s no way I’m letting anyone within a five-block radius of it. Allie was officially done with men.
STANDING IN THE HOT, open-aired shower, Allie fanned herself. Jet-lagged and sweaty, all she wanted to do was get clean, change into some shorts and track down the nearest real estate agent. She’d use the money to travel the world