Malcolm Holt
Taveuni, Fiji
Fiji was made up of hundreds of islands, so what was the chance she’d be at the same tiny, privately owned resort island as me?
But she’d been doggedly at my heels through customs, baggage claim, and then on the connecting flight on the puddle jumper.
It was hella awkward.
But seriously, what was I supposed to think when she’d looked at me like that? So many women had over the years—groupies, in particular. The number of women who would’ve been swooning at the same opportunity were plentiful.
It was her loss, actually.
But then she got off the puddle jumper at the Taveuni island airport.
“Mister and Missus Hale!Ni sa bula!” An island man wearing a baby blue Ring Gold t-shirt and board shorts shouted ebulliently. He crossed the distance between us and anointed us with flowered leis. “Welcome to Fiji.”
“We’re not—” I started but was cut off by Mystery Woman.
“I’m not a Hale, and neither is he. I mean, I would’ve been a Hale if the wedding happened, but it didn’t, so I’m not.”
Both the resort escort and I stared at her with wide eyes for a moment.
That was…a lot.
“Err, sorry to hear that.” The resort employee blinked a few times. “How would you like to be called?”
“Saylor is just fine. Saylor Tate.”
The resort employee nodded. “Got it. Saylor. Miss Tate.” The color in his cheeks probably had little to do with the heat. He nodded and turned to me. “Shit, you’re Malcolm Holt.”
I ducked my head and rubbed the back of my neck. He hadn’t said it loud enough for anyone to hear, but I didn’t want to take the chance. “I think you have a reservation for me under Logan Ecchols.”
My assistant was a pain in my ass who thought it was funny to book my reservations under character names from her girlie shows. Last time it’d been Jess Marino from something calledGilmore Girls.
I didn’t see the humor.
The resort employee nodded. “Right. Right. I think we were expecting you. I’m sorry, I’m new. Let me check.” He pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the screen. “Ah, we had you down for the later flight. But you’re here now, so let’s head to the van and then the boat.”
“Boat?” Saylor repeated timidly.
“Yes, it’s about a twenty-minute boat ride to the island and then your honey—er, vacation can begin. Let me grab your bags.”
I hefted my backpack onto my shoulder and grabbed my roller. “I got these.”
“Sure, sure.” He bent over Saylor’s two bags and arranged them so he could pull them. “Can I grab your other bag, miss?”
Saylor shook her head. “I’m good. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“It’s Vili.”
Saylor smiled. “Nice to meet you, Vili. Thanks for the help.”
“Sega na leqa.” A hint of interest darkened his tone, and I gritted my teeth. He’d literally just found out about her heartbreak and was already signaling his interest?
Asshole.
I planned on giving her a day—or two at most—before…shit, I’d already forgotten how she’d turned me down on the plane.
