“No. I’m calling about Kelsey. Did you take her to some surf shop today?”
“No shop. She said she wanted to watch the surfers at Diamond Head Beach, so I dropped her off there.”
“Did she ask to be picked up?”
“No, sir. She texted shortly afterward that a friend was driving her home. I’m sorry, Mr. Hale, I assumed you knew about this?”
He wasn’t about to yell at Tom. This was his fault. He’d never had issues with Kelsey disappearing or trying to sneak out anywhere. If she did go out, she was great about texting, so he’d never worried.
Until now. What friend? Oh fuck, was it a boy? Had she met someone he didn’t know about? The various scenarios unfolded andhis gut clenched. What had he been thinking giving her so much freedom? He rubbed a hand over his face.
Everett had to find her. Now. He typed,??Stay there. I’m coming.??Then, because the words boiled up anyway, he added:??Don’t move.??
Outside, the day was too bright. The problem with Hawaii was that the sky was straight out of a movie. The air smelled like salt and plumeria. Way too perfect. Much more pleasant than the grit of New York, but it made him distrust the state. At least back home, the city laid out the rules for you. It was competitive, fast-paced, and grounded. Here, bad things could happen under a bright blue umbrella sky.
He jumped in the rental car and gripped the wheel. The island didn’t care about his urgency. A truck in front of him cruised super slow, a surfboard strapped to its roof with faded bungee cords. A girl in the back seat propped her feet on the open windowsill and wriggled her bare toes in time to the blasting music.
He blew out his breath and followed the app’s calm voice to the surf shop. It took him forever because the island was just as bad as Manhattan during rush hour. Finally, he turned into a little lot squeezed between a food truck with a faded shrimp painted on the side and a building painted the color of mango.
The Hale Nalu Surf Shop was exactly what he’d pictured. Boards leaned in neat rows along the side of the building. A chalkboard out front advertised product specials in loopy handwriting. The chipped shop doors were open, the smell of wax and salt and wet neoprene drifting in the air. The beach stretched out with arrogance, dotted with bright surfboards and people scattered on the sand.
There was some type of event going on. Banners advertisingBoard Swaps!andSurf Trivia Nightwere crookedly taped on trees. String lights wrapped around the shop and flanked palm trees in a bad holiday display. Battered picnic tables were laid out, filled with bowls of food. A man worked the grill, smiling at his friends as he turned chicken. Everyone was dressed in bathing suits and T-shirts, gathered in groups, chatting with the comfort of close community.
His gaze swept over the busy scene and stopped with relief. Thank God. Kelsey sat at one of the tables next to a woman. They were close together, heads nearly touching. Kelsey’s laugh rose to his ears and clipped him in the chest. He hadn’t heard that sound in months. Sure, she laughed. Just not with that type of joy.
Everett took a step forward, but paused as they began to converse with a naturalness a stranger shouldn’t earn. He studied the woman’s appearance. Her hair was dark and thick. The strands were pulled into a messy bun but shot out in various directions like they didn’t want to be restrained. Her skin was golden brown. She wore a faded tank top, board shorts, and flip-flops. Nothing gave off vibes she was special. Probably just a random nice woman who noticed Kelsey was alone. He resumed walking. The sand gave under his dress shoes and tried to slow him. He should’ve stopped to change—he was still in his suit.
“Kelsey.”
His daughter’s head snapped up, the easy smile dying from her lips. For a second, he wished she were the little girl afraid of thunderstorms who’d once snuggled against him to feel safe. It was easy then to be the hero. Now, he had a feeling he was always the villain. Kelsey stood too fast, knee knocking into the table as she scrambled to her feet.
“Dad! What are you doing here?”
“I texted you I was on the way. Why didn’t you answer? Where’s your phone?”
She bit her lip. “Sorry, I left it inside the shop. Rowan and I were setting up the party and I got distracted.”
Everett had no idea why her excuse irritated him. Maybe because when he was in Kelsey’s orbit, her attention was on her phone twenty-four seven? His gaze swiveled to the woman.Rowan.He noted she was probably late twenties. She unfolded herself from her seat to stand next to Kels. She was tall, with long, lean limbs that rippled with muscle. A silver-white scar slashed across her left knee. But it was the way she returned his gaze that made the little hairs at the back of his neck lift. His body seemed to recognize something before his brain signed off on it.
Challenge sparked the air between them. Like Rowan owned her space and would stay there no matter who pushed. Up close, he noticed the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, and that her eyes were a dark green, set off by fierce brows. No makeup marred her face or eyes. Her lips were a flushed pink. She wasn’t conventionally attractive, but Everett had a feeling he’d never get bored of staring at a face like hers. It was interesting, with a depth that seemed to hold an array of secrets.
The ridiculous poetic description deepened his irritation. “Did you know she was alone without a parent?” The question came out harder than he meant. She didn’t flinch.
He expected a throaty, sexy voice to match her hair and eyes. Instead, the sound was quiet, but dug deep into hidden corners. “Yes.”
He waited for an explanation but none came. Those extraordinary eyes flashed with ice, but he had no clue why she’d be mad at him. He hated she was winning this battle by silence. Usually, he was the master. “How do you know Kelsey?”
“I work at the shop.”
“At the shop,” he repeated.
“Dad—”
He ignored Kelsey’s half whine and kept his gaze trained on Rowan. She lifted a shoulder, not quite a shrug. “Kelsey came in. We were talking. She wanted to help with the sunset party, so I gave her some work. Then we planned on eating. That’s it.”
Rowan’s gaze shifted between them, and he knew that look—the moment someone realized they were standing inside a family scene. She didn’t step back, though, or look away. Her arms hung at her sides, tanned and strong and dusted with sand. Her tank top clung to her small breasts, the fabric damp.
“This is inappropriate,” he said, turning his words on Rowan because he needed a target that wasn’t his daughter. “You don’t know her. You don’t know me. You don’t ask reasonable questions about why she’s alone or suggest she call her parent before making her work at your surf shop?”
