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“Hey, you remembered my name. Perfect.” He pats my bare ankle and slowly lets me go.
I stamp my foot to the ground, and tingles charge up through my ankle and into my calf.
“You can’t wear that to a wedding reception.”
His eyes gloss over my white shirt—hiding the red, strapless bikini top, and then my pink skort concealing the red boyshort bottoms—the suit Autumn hid in my bag. Neither top nor bottom will see the light of day. Still, I put on the suit. If Autumn asks, I wore it.
“You have nothing in that pink suitcase of yours? Of course you do…you’re what—an accountant? Or maybe a bookkeeper? Someone with lots of sensible clothing.”
I breathe out a tired breath. “I teach kindergarten.”
“Huh.” His brows raise. “That sounds fun.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just told you, I’m going to the beach.”
“I’m all for beach bumming it, but the reception starts in twenty-five minutes, so we may have to wait until after.”
“I’m not here for a wedding reception.” Then, why are you here? I ignore the voice in my head and charge on. “I have nothing appropriate to wear to a wedding, and I don’t know the bride or the groom. Or you!”
“True and true. But actually, I’ve got your clothing situation figured out.” He bends, picking up the strings of a gift bag on the ground. “I didn’t know your size, so I thought a lavalava would be easiest. Besides, my mother says a lavalava is appropriate for any event. And lucky for you, I have two sisters, I know exactly how to arrange it.”
My brows knit. I don’t know what a lavalava is, but I won’t be putting it on. This man will not be arranging anything.
“Come on, Meg. I’m in pants for the second day in a row, the least you could do is make sure I don’t walk into this reception alone. Help me avoid the attacks of multiple Samoan aunts wanting to know why I haven’t found a nice girl yet. One evening, and you’ll be saving me from a night of torture.”
A strange tickle runs through my body and exits in a small laugh. I sigh. Maybe he does need my help. “How long have you been waiting outside my gate?”
He rubs a hand over the short bristles of his beard. “I just got here. Scout’s honor.” He holds up his hand, two fingers pressed together…I swear it should be three. I dated an Eagle in high school.
“Are you a scout?” I say, eyeing those fingers.
“No, I’m not.” He drops his hand. “But see? Complete honesty.”
“There’s no one else you can take?” Why am I even asking? His problem isn’t my problem. I am not actually considering this…right?
13
Kal
There are plenty of other women I could have asked. But I’m asking Meg, with two thoughts in mind. She comes with zero strings. If I take Alisha, my coworker who loves to send me memes and DMs, she’ll still be around in a week, wanting to know why I haven’t called again.
That, and Meg is completely wasting Hawaii.
She’s in the most beautiful place in the world, and I’d bet money she hasn’t stepped out of her hotel room yet. She has no idea what she’s missing, and it should be a crime to come to Hawaii and leave without having experienced it. She just needs a little shove to get her going.
Call this my service project for the month.
It has nothing to do with her soft blue eyes or the way she moved on that tabletop last night. Nope, Gracie’s reception is the perfect place to experience the culture and beauty of Lana‘i. And that’s what this girl needs.
“What do you say?” I ask, pulling out the big guns—my very impressive puppy dog eyes.
She presses her full lips together. “Let me see the lavalava.”
I lift the gold and cream colored cloth from the bag and hold it up for her.
“That’s a rag.”
“Hey!” I’m offended. “This is a fine piece of Hawaiian culture.” And I spent a pretty penny buying her a nice one. “I’ll show you how to put it on.”
