Koa and I say goodnight to one and all, with his father and mother offering up hugs to both of us just before we can make a break for it.
“So,” I turn to Linda as the chickens pick through the carnage, “do I get a second chance or is this it?”
Linda looks at me with an assessment that suggests she’s reached a final verdict after extensive deliberation. “Honey, any woman who can survive poi immersion, poultry attacks, and hit the dancefloor like you did while still smiling is exactly what this family needs.”
She pauses, watching as Koa attempts to brush the poi from my hair. “Besides, I’ve never seen my son look at anyone the way he’s looking at you right now.”
“Like I’m covered in traditional Hawaiian food and need professional intervention?”
“Like you’re exactly where you belong,” she says, and the way she smiles suggests I’ve just passed the most important test of my life.
A rooster crows from somewhere near the poi cleanup area, announcing his approval of this romantic development to the entire island.
The stars twinkle over the grounds as if they’re celebrating the fact that sometimes, the best way to join a family is to fall face-first into their food while being chased by their livestock.
In Hawaii, that’s not just acceptance—that’s becoming a legend.
CHAPTER 12
If I’d known that managing a resort in paradise required murder investigations, ex-husband drama, and my own emotional baggage, I would’ve bought stronger coffee. Heck, I would have bought stock in every coffee company on the island.
It’s mid-morning at the Coconut Cove Paradise Resort, and I’m attempting to manage the front desk while simultaneously reliving every perfect moment from last night’s family gathering. Just the perfect ones. There were a few.
The trade winds carry the scent of tropical foliage mixed with fresh coffee and fresh baked cinnamon rolls, while my brain replays Koa’s kisses on an endless loop like a romantic movie stuck on the very best scene.
I’ve conveniently edited out the poi disaster and the rooster-induced chaos, focusing instead on the importantdetails like the way Koa’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, his mother’s final approval, the feeling of belonging somewhere for the first time in my adult life, and that kiss that tasted like possibility and felt like home.
Pineapple the cat has positioned herself strategically on the reception desk like a furry supervisor conducting performance evaluations, while Coconut and Mango lounge nearby with the patient expressions of senior staff observing an employee having a romantic breakdown during business hours.
“You’re glowing,” Ruby announces, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of what appears to be experimental breakfast pastries, with each one looking more delicious than the last. “Like, literally glowing. It’s either true love, or you’ve contracted some kind of tropical radioactive poisoning.”
“I think it’s the afterglow of family acceptance,” I say dreamily, attempting to look busy with resort paperwork while my brain continues its unauthorized vacation in Romantic Fantasy Land. “And possibly the lingering effects of poi immersion therapy.”
I had to wash my hair three times to get it back to acceptable loofah levels.
“Or the fact that you got to kiss Detective Delicious under the stars like a proper tropical romance heroine,” Lani adds, wiping flour from her hands with the knowing expression that comes from witnessing the early stages of island love-sick syndrome. And boy, have I got it bad.
A rooster crows from somewhere near the sand, providing his thoughts on my emotional state. Spam opens one amber eye to give him a withering stare that suggests even the cats think the poultry should mind their own business when it comes to human romantic developments.
I’m about to say something when a woman sweeps into the lobby, radiating a crisis energy that demands immediate attention.
Halea strides in wearing adventure-chic attire that screams,I’ve paid thousands of dollars to look like I rough itwith designer hiking boots that have never seen dirt, safari shorts that showcase legs that could launch a thousand gyms, and a tank top doing some very heavy lifting.
“Aloha, beautiful people!” she announces with the manic energy a triple espresso produces. “It’s time for our exclusive Secret Falls adventure! The bus is waiting, and paradise is calling!”
The wedding party begins materializing from various resort locations like a pastel parade of matrimonial enthusiasm. Erwin emerges from his suite looking like a tourist who’s been dressed by a personal shopper with dubious taste in men’s resort wear. Candy appears with enough camera equipment to document a National Geographic expedition, her ring light already activated for optimal documentation of whatever constitutes adventure in the influencer universe.
Bertha materializes wearing an expression that assures us she’s expecting disappointment but is prepared to endure it with martyred dignity.
Various bridesmaids and groomsmen trail behind like extras in a destination wedding commercial.
“Morning, Jinx,” Erwin calls out with a fake cheerfulness that makes my teeth ache and sends Spam running for cover. “They’re still letting you run the front desk, I see. That is, until you run them into the ground.” He laughs at his own ridiculous sense of humor.
And just like that, my romantic glow evaporates faster than ice cream in tropical heat, replaced by a rage that could make a volcanic eruption look understated. A chicken conducting lobby inspections stops mid-peck to stare at me with what appears to be a genuine interest in my emotional state.
“Totally!” Candy chimes in, adjusting her hair in the reflection of the window. “I mean, some people are meant for adventure and new experiences, and others are meant for, well, staying put and handling all the practical stuff. Without people like you, Sphynx, who would do all the dirty work so the rest of us could have a little f-u-n?”
She and Erwin cackle, and I suddenly have an F word of my own that I’d love to spell out for them.
