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