This was not Denver International Airport—or even Aspen’s regional airfield. There were no taxis, no buses, no expanses of asphalt lined with rental cars. A chorus of insects and birds greeting the day welcomed them as she tried to piece together where they were. Was this the Caribbean? Penny and Rowen had a place there. Could that be it, or did Raz have his own tropical vacation home? It couldn’t be that. He said he’d never visited this place before.
She glanced around. “No customs?”
If they’d left the country, a customs agent would have to be there.
“No need,” he answered as a pair of headlights pierced the darkness and headed their way.
An open-air Jeep pulled in next to the darkened building, and a lanky man hopped out. No, it wasn’t a man. The outdoor lighting revealed a teenager. Tall and sporting shorts and a T-shirt, he couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen. The kid stood in front of the vehicle. Lit by the headlights, he started moving in place, bobbing and weaving, throwing punches.
Was he okay?
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” the teen announced, shadowboxing as he spoke. “The British Beast, Erasmus Cress, is on my island,” the kid finished before going back to the Jeep and returning with a pair of boxing gloves.
Libby cocked her head to the side. It was safe to say she wasn’t expecting this type of reception.
“Why is there a teenage boy dancing around and shouting your name?”
Raz laughed, glanced at his phone, then waved to the kid. “Are you Milo?”
“Erasmus Cress knows my name,” the boy called out, his voice echoing in the fragrant air. I’m your ride to…”
The kid stopped bouncing.
“Wait, my grandma told me I’m not supposed to say anything. But we can take a selfie, right? I’ve gotta post this online. My friends will never believe it. Oh, and can you sign my gloves?”
She sized up her boxer. “You brought me to a tropical paradise populated with your fans? I must say, this is very on-brand for a beefcake like you.”
He laughed, raised their joined hands to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “From what Briggs texted, it appears this fan seems to be what made this entire endeavor possible.”
Her jaw dropped. “Wait a second. You weren’t sure if we’d be welcome wherever we are?”
Raz tossed her one of his beefiest of beefcake grins. “Plum, you’re with Erasmus Cress. Who wouldn’t want me on their island?”
Sweet Buddha’s belly, this man.
“It’s nice to meet you, Milo. I’m Erasmus, but you can call me Raz.”
“Raz!” the teen eked out, swiping a mop of dark curls out of his eyes.
Raz pressed his lips together, clearly biting back laughter. “And this is Libby—”
“Lamb!” the boy howled, causing her to nearly jump into Raz’s arms.
What did this kid do every day? Wake up and pound a case of energy drinks followed by a few pounds of raw sugar?
“Did you see the video of the astronauts on the space station reenacting your training session?” Milo asked, wide-eyed.
This kid was a riot—and a starstruck riot to boot.
Now, she was the one suppressing a bout of giggles. “Yes, I’m aware of the viral video.”
“That’s some serious dedication to training,” the young man continued, awe coating his words. “You looked totally insane. You really had Erasmus Cress on his toes.”
“Training a boxer can induce strong emotions,” she replied to the endearing boy. The kid meant no harm, and he radiated pure joy. A pink aura billowed around him, and the color wrapped him in an atmosphere of abundant friendliness. It was hard not to smile in his vibrant presence—a presence that felt oddly familiar.
“Do you have a pen, Milo? I’m happy to sign your gloves, mate.”
“Yeah, I’ve got one right here,” the kid answered and pulled a marker from his pocket.
“How long have you been boxing?” Raz asked, holding the gloves in the beams of the headlights as he autographed the items.
“Just a couple of years. My grandma didn’t like it at first, but now that she’s seen the way you do things, she’s more open to it,” the kid answered.
What did that mean?
“Can we take a picture, too?” Milo asked.
“Absolutely,” Raz answered, handing the kid his gloves.
“Would you like me to take it?” Libby asked.
“No way! I want you in it, too,” Milo chimed, beaming with excitement.
“All right,” she said, her cheeks warming from the boy’s enthusiasm. She’d never imagined anyone wanting to take a selfie with her.
No, that’s not quite true.
Her dream was to help people through yoga. She wanted to acquire a following, but she hadn’t expected it to be like this—thanks to Raz.
She and her boxer leaned in toward Milo as he held the gloves in one arm and his phone with the other and snapped a selfie.
Milo threw his cell onto the front seat of the Jeep, then gingerly slid his gloves into a gym bag before glancing up at the skyline. It wasn’t quite as dark out now. A thin strand of glittering golden light stretched across the expanse of sky. “We better get going. It’ll take us about fifteen minutes,” he said, pushing the front seat forward. She and Raz climbed into the back, and Milo took his spot as chauffeur. “We’ll take a shortcut and go by my family’s farm,” the boy added as he started the car and shifted into drive.
Raz settled their bag at his feet, then took her hand.
She waved him in. “Can you tell me where we are now?”
He didn’t answer. He simply wrapped his arm around her and relaxed into the seat. Nice for him, but she was still on high alert. She had too many questions percolating. She paid close attention to the scenery as the narrow road, thick green vegetation, and fragrant, humid air gave this island a leisurely, easy vibe. Wherever they were, it was no major tourist destination. The Jeep rumbled along for a good ten minutes when they rounded a bend, and a breathtaking view of the ocean spread out before them, and the flowery aroma that had greeted her at the airport intensified.
“That’s my family’s plumeria farm,” Milo called, pointing to row upon row of petite trees, each with a mushroom-like cascade of blossoms bursting from the branches.
“Plumeria?” she said. “Aren’t those the type of flowers used to make Hawaiian leis?”
How did she know that? She’d never been to Hawaii. She must have seen it mentioned on TV or in a book.
Raz pulled her in a little closer. “Yes, they’re used for making leis. The text from Briggs mentioned that Milo’s family owned an agricultural business on the island.”
“We’re on one of the Hawaiian Islands?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“We are.”
Her heart jumped into her throat as the rows of flowering trees disappeared, and an expanse of shoreline shimmered in the early morning light. It was like something one would see on a postcard…or a television program.
Television.
A lightness took over as a thrumming euphoria expanded in her chest. The energy ebbed and flowed within her, gently, like the soothing rhythm of the sea.