“You never mentioned where you went,” she said or maybe accused. That glint in her eyes was downright formidable.
Good thing the British Beast could match that challenging air.
“I was a six-five guy in a little Hawaiian market. I’m not sure anyone could lose sight of me, plum.”
“So, you’re not going to tell me what you were up to?”
He would—just not yet.
A sparkle had caught his eye in one of the shops across from the open-air market. As if the glittery trinket had called out to him, he’d wandered into the quaint shop to investigate. Minutes later, he’d walked out with a small wooden box.
“I was listening to my chi, love. That’s all. I was a man on a Hawaiian island going with the flow, one with the universe.”
He widened his beefcake grin.
When in doubt, mix in a bit of yoga-speak.
“Is that so?” she pressed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yep, and you would have known if I’d gotten into trouble, like, for example, chucking vibrators in the middle of a tropical flea market. Had I done that, that news would have made it to outer space by now.”
She shook her head. “You’ve made your point. But…”
“What, plum?”
“I’m not sure what we’ll do the day Sebastian learns that I wasn’t throwing mini torpedoes at you.”
That night did seem like it happened eons ago. And look how far they’d come.
“By then, plum, there will have been so many viral videos that ours will be lost in the web of sexual deviancy,” he answered, cupping her face in his hand. For the first time in a long time, he liked thinking about what was to come.
And honestly, screw social media!
He’d only checked his accounts a handful of times while they were away. And yes, he and Libby had garnered some of the internet’s spotlight thanks to Milo’s post. Last he looked, the kid had gotten over a million likes. But he didn’t mind that kind of publicity. The young man was genuinely excited about boxing. And if it brought a bit of attention to the island or his family’s business, nothing would make him happier. When they did venture into town, the people of Moloka’i had been nothing less than discrete and hospitable, allowing them to explore the area without interruption. For that, he was abundantly grateful.
But that bubble of privacy was about to pop.
With the big fight less than a week away, they’d be walking into a media circus once they returned to Denver.
“You have a point,” she conceded, but worry still lingered in her gaze.
“I promise, if there’s anything you need to know, I’ll tell you,” he answered, glancing at the zipped pocket on the hoodie draped on the seat next to him.
“You’re promising me the truth?” she asked. Her teasing tone had vanished, and he knew why. She had a rocky track record when it came to men making her promises.
He kissed her, capturing her mouth tenderly, in a slow, soulful exchange. “I promise that I love you. I love you so much, I can’t see straight. I won’t let you down, plum.”
Like your bloody father—but he kept that thought to himself.
“I love you, too,” she answered when a chime rang out. “And…that’s my cell. We can get back to the lei business after I see who’s texting,” she added and climbed off his lap to get the device.
“Who is it? Sebastian again?”
She stared at the mobile’s screen and grinned. “It’s your sisters.”
“How’d they get your number?”
“Oh, I don’t know?” she answered, her lightness returning. “Possibly from your grandmother, or any of my friends, or Sebastian, or Madelyn, or Augie, or Luanne. Maybe Maud or Wobbly Bob? Shall I go on?”
“Smart-ass,” he murmured.
“And I might have suggested my brothers reach out to them.”
“Your brothers?”
“My brothers are big into volunteering. They build medical clinics while studying to be doctors, and your sisters were doing volunteer work, teaching English. I figured they had similar interests.”
He growled. “I’m fine with them being friends. Just let them know Calliope and Callista aren’t allowed to date until they’re thirty-five.”
“You’re thirty-two!” she shot back.
“I know,” he answered, stewing.
“Oh, stop, you big protective beefcake! They’re grown women,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then showed him her phone. “Callista sent a pic. She and Calliope decorated the barn. With the rain, they made the call to set up inside.”
“Is that a donkey luau?” he asked, then looked closer. “And is that Wobbly Bob in the background with my granny Fin?”
“You mean Robbie,” she answered with a twinkle in her eyes. “And Finola’s got a pretty wide grin on her face.”
He stewed some more. “What’s my granny got in common with a donkey rescue cowboy?”
“What’s a Zen yoga teacher got in common with a first-rate beefcake?” she tossed back.
He sighed. “Point taken.”
Libby scrolled through the message. “Your sisters say that Sebastian got the idea to make his donkey birthday a donkey luau when your grandmother told him you’d taken me to Hawaii. And it appears that we’ll be feasting on pineapple grilled cheese sandwiches.”
He cringed. “That’s a thing?”
“With Mitch and Oscar cooking, I’m sure it’ll be an amazing thing. They want to know when we’ll be there. We’re landing soon, aren’t we?”
He reached for his mobile, checked the flight plan, then glanced out the window, now spattered with raindrops. He spied the majestic stretch of the Rocky Mountains through the haze of dark clouds when another chime, this time coming from the jet, pinged, signaling the aircraft’s descent.
“There’s your answer, plum,” he said, then scrolled through his texts. “And Briggs is picking us up. He’ll probably want to talk PR, so prepare yourself for a boring drive back to Rickety Rock.”
He’d tried to infuse humor into his words, but anxiety panged in his chest. It was starting up again—the countdown until another big fight. He tried to ignore the feeling. He’d be ready. There would be no bloody panic attacks bringing him to his knees this time.
“Help me pack everything up,” Libby said, springing into action. “I’ll text your sisters back and let them know we won’t be long. It’s what, thirty minutes from the airport in Aspen to Rickety Rock?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
She hammered out a reply, then pressed her mobile to her chest. “I’m so excited to see Sebastian and celebrate his birthday.”
“It’s a good day to celebrate,” he answered, warmth replacing the anxiety rippling in his chest. He glanced at his hoodie’s pocket again, then put it on before helping Libby pack up the bits and bobs.
They fastened their seat belts and settled in for the landing. With Libby on his right and, hopefully, the key to their future in his left pocket, he peered out the window.
The terrain was so different from that of England. But Rickety Rock, with its engaging characters and interesting local cuisine, wasn’t all that different from the peculiar little villages scattered around the UK.