Her Hawaiian Homecoming. Cara Lockwood
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No roof? Who did that? She wondered if anyone would buy a place with an outdoor bathroom. Allie sighed and turned the knobs of the shower, half expecting them not to work. Water sputtered out, and surprisingly, it felt warm, but then again, the air was a balmy eighty-two degrees. Everything would feel warm, even at room temperature. Allie shrugged out of her too-hot jeans, T-shirt and wool sweater and stepped into the warm shower, letting the water rinse over her. She exhaled. Remember the positives, she thought. You’re not stuck in subzero weather in that blizzard you left back home, and once the property is sold, you can travel for a year. That was all she had to do: keep moving. People couldn’t disappoint you if you didn’t let them.
Allie rinsed her hair in the warm water and sighed, almost forgetting about the lack of roof when a bright red blur zoomed past her, practically thumping her head.
She jumped, startled, until she saw the intruder: a small, brilliant red bird with black-trimmed feathers, its beak thin and scooped downward. It looked as if a cardinal had mated with a hummingbird, a species she’d never seen before. Definitely not in Chicago anymore, she thought. The bird cocked its head to one side and eyed her.
Allie felt like jumping out of the shower and running back to the house, but instead, she shook the shower curtain and the bird flew away.
Wonder what he was doing in here anyway, she thought, rinsing off. She shut down the water and stepped out, reaching for a fluffy white towel. She grabbed one from a hook and wrapped it around her chest, tucking it under her armpits, and then she wrapped her head up in a towel, turban-style, and looked at herself in the foggy mirror. She swiped at it with one hand, wondering what that brown stripe was along the top of her head towel, and that was when she realized the brown stripe was moving.
It was a centipede—a huge, disgusting, hundred-leg brown centipede, nearly a foot long and thicker than her thumb.
Allie did what any reasonable city girl would do: she screamed.
She flicked her head downward, and in the same instant, bounced against the thin door and tumbled outside, barely keeping the small lightweight towel wrapped around her as the turban fell to the ground. In her panic, Allie couldn’t see where the centipede went. Was it tangled in her hair? Running down her back?
It was a friggin’ monster, that was all she knew. She’d never seen a bug that big in Chicago. Ever.
Then she saw the horrible insect crawling in the black lava dirt. She felt relief: it wasn’t on her! And yet she felt complete terror as she realized the huge bug was headed straight for her bare toes, its huge menacing back pincher stinger wagging as it went.
She hopped on one foot, squealing, unable to help herself as she looked around for a weapon—a stone, a stick, anything. She couldn’t step on the thing with her bare foot.
That was when a square-toed brown cowboy boot crunched it for her, mashing it into the dirt.
“Got it, ma’am,” Dallas drawled, an amused smile on his face as the thing twisted and turned under his boot. He ground it farther into the dust.
Allie had never felt so relieved and so embarrassed at the same time. Her wet hair hung in strands down her shoulders, black mud caked her once-clean toes. She clutched the towel more tightly around her chest, but it did no good. She might as well have been wearing a washcloth.
“Th-thanks,” she managed, trying to regain her composure. He’d put on a T-shirt, she noticed, wondering fleetingly about whether the Cheeseburger in Paradise was a real restaurant. It clung to his muscular chest, stretched and near popping as if his pecs were planning an escape. He was handsome, even she had to admit. He had golden hair, worn shaggy, with natural highlights from the sun. His age was hard to place, but midthirties, Allie guessed. She felt drawn to him, and immediately shut down the urge.
“Those things are nasty. Sting hurts worse than a yellow jacket. Want me to check for any more?”
“More?” Allie’s voice came out as a squeak of fear. She hadn’t even considered there’d be another one of those creatures.
“Sometimes they travel in pairs,” Dallas drawled, and Allie was unable to tell whether he was teasing or not. “I’ll check.”
“Okay.” Allie stood very still as Dallas made a slow sweep, walking so close to her she could catch the faded scent of some earthy aftershave. He just grazed her shoulder as he glided behind her, and she was more than aware she was standing almost naked in front of him. He seemed to be taking his time, she thought, and doing more looking at her skin than for bugs. She felt suddenly shy.
No one has seen me naked since...Jason. She shifted on her bare feet, very aware of Dallas’s eyes on her.
“You’re all clear,” he said at last, stepping away from her, eyes still on her bare knees.
“Good,” Allie said, her face still flushed. “Uh...thanks.”
“Anytime, ma’am.” Dallas grinned, a big, white smile that made the pit of her stomach feel fuzzy.
“I’ve...uh...got to get dressed. The Realtor’s coming...”
“The who?” Dallas snapped to attention, his demeanor immediately changing from affable country boy to guarded cowboy.
“Realtor. I took the liberty of inviting Jennifer Thomas. I’ve heard she’s the best on the island. I saw her on that show...Hawaii Living?”
Dallas looked suddenly pale, as if he’d seen a ghost, but Allie kept going.
“She said she might even want to put the property on the show when I talked to her on the phone...”
“I don’t want her here.” Dallas’s voice was a grunt.
Allie, surprised, shifted on one bare foot to another, conscious of the sticky dirt beneath her bare toes. “Oh, well... I don’t know if I can cancel with such late notice. Her assistant was very clear...”
“She can’t come here. She—” Dallas seemed to lose the ability to speak “—just can’t.”
“But...” Allie didn’t get to finish her sentence. Dallas had turned and was stalking away from her, his back taut with anger, his boots making rivets in the mud.
* * *
HOURS LATER, DALLAS still felt hot with anger. He couldn’t believe Allie had invited his ex straight to his doorstep. Might as well just let loose the rest of the lions and tigers and bears.
Jennifer would be more bloodthirsty than all of them. Dallas was arguing with Jennifer’s assistant on the phone that afternoon when he heard a roar near the driveway and realized he’d have to tell the woman to her face just how unwelcome she was. He walked out of his front door and down the path of coffee trees toward Misu’s place, carrying a bundle of papers rolled up and sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. He made it to the clearing in time to see the goat skitter away at the sight of Jennifer’s cherry-red convertible BMW. Smart goat. Jennifer was the kind of woman who didn’t mind running over anything in her path. Dallas still had the tire tread on his back to prove it.
He frowned as he watched her step out of her sports car, wearing her usual uniform of overpriced designer clothes, which clung tightly to her curves, her too-short skirt inching up her thigh as she slammed the car door with a thunk. She met his gaze over the car roof and smiled just slightly, triumph on her face as she flicked a long, curving strand of blond hair off her shoulder. She must love that Allie invited her here, must be relishing every minute, he thought.
He glanced in the backseat and saw it was empty, save for Kayla’s pink-and-green striped booster seat. She’d be at day care anyhow. He felt a pinch in his chest as he saw her small white stuffed bear. Mr. Cuddles, he remembered. She used to be inconsolable without him. He felt the urge to run it over to her at day care, but then felt a dull ache in his rib cage when he realized that wasn’t his job anymore. Hadn’t been for nearly a year. Jennifer had made sure