Aloha, page 18
He began to hum.
I began to melt.
Oh, Makoa.
I couldn’t recall the last time a person made me feel so okay with not being okay.
He wrapped his arms around me and began to sway underneath the setting sun. I didn’t know how long we swayed, but he hummed a dozen different songs as the sky grew dark. He held me as I rested my head against his shoulder. He held me as I closed my eyes. He held me as I fell apart with an overwhelming number of emotions on his shoulder.
And then he held me some more.
Suddenly, this stranger to me didn’t seem so foreign. Something about him felt so familiar, so welcoming. I could have stayed within his arms until the sunrise began over our heads.
We didn’t surf that evening, but I did find the gentleness of the waves. I lost track of time and allowed Makoa to make me feel like waves. Free. Comforting. Able.
Once we finished dancing, he asked me if I’d join him for dinner.
“We’ll surf tomorrow, I swear,” he said, “But I made us a reservation at a restaurant that turns into a nightclub with salsa lessons.”
“Oh! I always wanted to take salsa lessons.”
He smiled.
He knew.
I sighed as I stared at him. “Why do I feel like Bradley is setting me up with you?” I asked. That would be very on brand for Bradley. He was always playing matchmaker for people. I’d never thought I’d be one of the ones he set up, though. Especially after he’d crossed over.
“I’m not complaining.” Makoa shrugged his shoulders. “Plus, I just think he wanted you to be able to do one thing when he left his place for his journey to calmer seas.”
“And what was that one thing?”
He took a step back, unzipped his wetsuit, and pulled his arms out. I studied his arms and smiled as I saw him point out the tattoo on his forearm. It read ‘I mua’.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“I mua means ‘move forward’. That’s all Brad wanted for you. He didn’t want you to sit in your sadness and lose more years of your life. He wanted you to start again, to really start living and go on your adventures that you’d put on hold to raise him. He wanted this next chapter of your life to be about you and your list. He wanted you to live, Marie. So, please, let’s start living.”
I couldn’t stop feeling as if Bradley had given me the greatest gift by sending me to Hawaii. I had two weeks left on my trip, and Makoa told me he had every single day planned for us to explore, for us to try new things, and for us to dance beneath the sunsets.
Makoa took my hand into his and kissed it gently before we picked up our surfboards and headed off to return them for the night. I didn’t know what the next few days entailed, but all I knew was I was going to live them to their fullest potential for Bradley. Not only for him, but for me, too.
Because I was going to do it.
I mua.
Move forward.
Thanks for reading. Check out the rest of my books at bcherrybooks.com.
One Night in Paradise
Brittany Holland
Chapter 1
Camilla
Music fills the salty night air as I step under a blanket of stars. My work is done. The bride has changed into her reception gown, and the party is in full swing. The day went off without a hitch. Pleased with myself, I slip out of my heels and walk barefoot into the lush patio of flower-wrapped pergolas and hidden alcoves.
This is my favorite time of night. The adrenaline from the day is starting to crash, the rush of knowing I was a part of someone’s forever. That I helped a bride feel like a goddess in a gown I designed and made with my own two hands. I’m a long way from that lost little girl growing up in the Atlanta suburbs, bouncing from home to home with a black trash bag of worn belongings and my secondhand art kit. Even then, I never gave up on happy endings. I just haven’t found mine yet.
I’m far enough into the garden that moonlight replaces the firelight but still close enough to hear the celebration. I sink onto a cushioned chair in one of the alcoves looking over the ocean, and my bare feet find a resting place on the balcony.
“Shoot! I forgot to grab cake,” I mumble, too tired to pry myself from my hiding spot. Hearing the waves crash is a wonderful sound—one I could get used to. So peaceful, so different from the noise in Atlanta.
As if on cue, my phone vibrates.
Briar.
My best friend, roommate, and business partner.
“Hello?” I feel the need to whisper in my private little paradise.
“Camilla? Why are you whispering? Wait—are you with a guy?” Her voice squeals through the phone, and I’m pretty sure the whole island just heard her. “Is it one of the groomsmen?”
“What—no! Are you insane? I’m working! So are you! This isn’t Girl’s Gone Wild Maui—Destination Wedding Edition.”
“For starters, I just photographed the bride and groom cutting the cake. Two, didn’t say it was. But you’ve been single for how long again?”
A deep sigh escapes my chest. “Briar, I told you I’m not looking for anything right now. Not long-term. Not one night. Not. At. All. I’m so grateful to your aunt Opal for bringing me on as head bridal designer at Enchanted—I can’t let anything get in the way of that. This job is all I have.”
“You have me.” She lowers her voice.
“I know. And love you.” She’s the first person in a long time who has let me be myself—no judgment or expectations. Growing up a foster kid I always felt on display and tried to be my very best, but my best wasn’t enough. I never found a permanent home and aged out of the system at eighteen with no family. Now Briar is my family. And Aurora Hills is my new home.
“I just know this is the part of the night where you sneak off and think about…stuff.”
My heart twinges with sadness. She’s not wrong; she knows me too well. It always hits me hard, after the happiness wears off, seeing all the families together. Sure, I see myself doing this one day—being a bride. The white gown, carrying my favorite flowers, starting a life with someone…but then I think about walking down the aisle alone. No mother to fix my veil, no father to take my arm and give me away.
“Oh, gotta go. She’s about to toss the bouquet. If you hurry, you can make it in time for the garter, and all the single guys will be in one place. Fish in a barrel.”
“If you say so. I’ll be in soon. Save me a slice of cake.” I laugh.
“Already did.” The call ends, and I start to imagine what kind of dress I might design for myself. I do this often, and tonight is no different, but I can never actually see it. I can sketch a dress for everyone…except myself. I don’t want to linger on what that means. I’m sure my therapist would have plenty to say about it.
Movement out of the corner of my eye startles me. A dark shadow storms to the other end of the balcony, gripping both hands on the railing. In the faint lantern light, I make out a tall, well-built man—dark suit, tapered waist, wide-set shoulders. As a seamstress, I notice these things. Right…that’s the only reason.
Or maybe it’s that glass of champagne I had during the toast.
He turns toward me, and I freeze. There’s no way he can see me, hidden in the shadows, but when he looks my way, my knees go weak. The light illuminates his face…and he’s gorgeous in a movie star kind of way. Strong jaw and nose, golden hair, curly on top and cut short on the sides. His full lips appear to be set in a scowl as he continues to look in my direction before casting his gaze back out toward the Pacific Ocean.
My curiosity increases as I watch him. His shoulders stiff, he pulls at his hair in frustration. Maybe he’s a heartbroken ex of the bride who came to convince her to take him back.
I shake my head at the thought. I’ve been reading too many romance novels. Besides, he doesn’t look like the type of man a woman would let go of. I know I wouldn’t.
And…that’s my cue to leave. I’m not sure if it’s fatigue or the bubbly talking, but if this is how he makes me feel across a dark balcony, I can’t imagine what being up close and personal would be like.
A loud ringing fills the air as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell. “What?” he barks, and I feel sorry for whoever is on the other end. “The deal is off. You broke the contract, and no amount of whining is going to change that.”
He pauses, listening. “Go. Tell them all. And watch your family’s precious empire crumble. Guess you didn’t read the fine print. You also signed an NDA, but you were too busy trying to weasel your way in you didn’t bother to see who it was you were crawling into bed with.” I swear, I can feel the anger radiating off him. It reaches across the darkness, drawing me to him. Watching him from afar is one thing, but overhearing something obviously private seems wrong.
Now, if I can just figure out how to sneak past him and back to the reception to get my cake. This whole creepy stalker thing isn’t really my style. Dipping down, I pick up my shoes. But backing up to leave, my foot catches on the chair, and the metal grates on the stone, echoing in the silent night air. I freeze.
Busted.
Turning, I look up to find his gaze locked on me, and it’s murderous. He’s clearly angry I interrupted his privacy. Well… that makes two of us.
Chapter 2
Carter
“What are you doing out here?” My voice comes out harsher than intended, and her gorgeous green eyes widen at the bite in my tone.
“Excuse me?” she finally speaks as I close the distance between us.
“You heard me just fine.” Now, I’m just being a dick, but I can’t help it. There’s something about seeing her caught off guard. Women aren’t typically shy with me because it’s not really me they are after; it’s what they can get from me. Carter Brooks, from the Charleston Brooks.
“So?” I challenge her, stepping closer. She remains frozen, her eyes wide. Crossing her arms over her chest, she takes a step back, and it’s such a shame. Chocolate-brown hair cascading over her pale, creamy shoulder makes me ache to run my fingers through it.
My eyes sweep up to find hers narrowed, and she gives a defiant lift of her chin, obviously aware of me checking her out. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an ass, and I certainly didn’t mean to startle you, but you’re lucky it was me who caught you out here and not one of the groom’s security guards.”
She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, her full, heart-shaped lips resting in the perfect pout. The more I watch her, the more I find her irresistible.
“And what exactly do you think you’ve caught me doing?” she challenges.
“Wedding crashing,” I throw at her, waiting for the embarrassment to register in her cheeks, but the moment never comes.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath.
“So, I’m wrong? You are a guest?”
“Yes, no—ugh, not exactly.” She worries her bottom lip, eyes darting around. I shouldn’t keep toying with her, but I’m not ready for her to leave.
“Camilla!” someone calls in the distance.
I stalk closer, but she holds her ground, refusing to be intimidated by me. Feisty little thing. I instantly like that about her. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s impolite to crash weddings? Bad luck even.”
She draws back as if I just smacked her. Something passes over her face, but anger takes its place before I can decipher what it is.
“Camilla! Where are you?” The voice sounds closer, and she looks toward the main tent, then back to me, eyes now full of fire.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, my parents never ‘taught’ me that. I’m not sure it was a high priority to explain wedding crashing etiquette to a six-year-old before they were killed by a drunk driver.” Her mouth twists into a scowl, her delicate posture rigid as she unleashes on me.
Regret slams into my chest. She’s still talking, reading me the riot act, her arms flailing out by her sides, and I take it. I deserve it.
“Cam-ill-a.” A tall blonde singsongs as joins us on the patio and shares a look with who I’m assuming is Camilla. But Camilla throws her hand up to gesture for her to wait a minute. I could stand here all night watching her talk, her plump lips pressing together as she thinks about what she’s going to say next. That passion and tenacity is hot as hell, and I love that she didn’t throw herself at me instantly. In fact, she seems to really dislike me. Game on.
“Furthermore, I’m a guest here, the same as you, but I’m also working with the bride. You remember her, right? The one wearing white? So, it seems I’m needed here, while I’m guessing, based on your lack of coordinating tuxedo, that you are an obligatory invite and not a member of the wedding party.”
My tongue is heavy in my mouth, lost for words. Blonde girl clears her throat, and Camilla and I whip our heads her way. “Um, so…we need you.” My eyes snap to the camera in her hand, then back to Camilla. She must be her assistant.
“Excuse us. Have a great night.” The photographer grabs her arm and urges her back toward the resort, but the look they share tells me they’re less like a boss and employee and more like partners in crime.
“So, not alone after all?” the photographer whisper-shouts as they walk away.
“It was nothing,” Camilla defends.
“Didn’t look like nothing. And you know you can’t talk like that to the guests.” She laughs.
"I wouldn’t call him a guest… more like a pompous ass."
As they get farther away, the waves and music from the party drown out the rest of their conversation, and my body, which was wired up from my interaction with her, is now disappointed by her sudden departure.
“What the actual hell was that?” I laugh to myself. I’m not used to being caught so off guard by a woman, at least not intellectually. She was something else. She had a contagious fire about her, a little bit like flying too close to the sun. A woman like that could burn, and I’d like to find out just how hot. And that mouth on her…
My phone beeps in my hand, distracting me from my salacious thoughts.
AJ: We can figure this out.
Me: Nothing to figure out.
AJ: Sure about that?
AJ:
I don’t need to open it to know what it is. So freaking predictable. I shove my phone in my pocket and head back to the party. There is something to figure out, but it has to do with a curvy brunette and how to get her alone again.
Chapter 3
Camilla
“Pompous ass, huh?” Briar repeats just to mess with me as she pulls me aside, a shit-eating grin on her face.
“I didn’t stutter,” I point out.
She keeps smiling. “I just didn’t know you had it in you, Camilla. I mean, I had faith deep down, but I’ve never seen you go full-blown postal on a stranger.”
“Rude stranger,” I interject.
She waves me off. “Whatever you say. All I know is what I saw, and he is H-O-T—hot!”
My cheeks heat. “Was he? I hadn’t noticed,” I say, trying to play it off, but she knows me better than that.
“Bullshit,” she coughs. ”I saw sparks flying between you guys.”
“Okay, yes, I’ll admit it, and I was ogling him like some creepy stalker until he caught me. Then he opened his mouth, and the trance was broken. Satisfied?” I offer.
“And?” She is relentless.
“And… he accused me of being a wedding crasher, then brought up my parents. Mood killer,” I explain.
“Yikes. I’m so sorry.” She moves in to hug me, and I let her. When I break away, tears prick my eyes, and my throat does that closing-up, tickling thing.
“I know, I know. Okay, whew… Why were you looking for me?”
“The bride wanted to make sure you had her ceremony veil back in her dressing room. She couldn’t remember,” she explains.
“Yeah. I have it put away,” I tell Briar as I look back to the reception.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She follows my awestruck gaze around the candlelit room, dripping in tropical flowers.
My chin lifts to nod. “Are they all this lavish? All the ones you’ve seen so far?”
“Mostly. Opal has very exclusive clientele. She’s the best at what she does.” She bumps my shoulder. “And now, you’re part of that.”
“Thanks to you,” I remind her.
“Let’s hit the bar,” she suggests. ”I want to see if the pilot from the rehearsal dinner is here.
“Wait, is that professional?” I ask. This is my first high-profile wedding “I don’t want to blow it by committing a faux pas before I’ve even begun.” I move to follow her, the stone cool beneath my feet. How did I forget my shoes?
Briar sees me looking down, and I lift the black chiffon, wiggling my bare feet. “Missing something, Cinderella?” she teases.
My hair tickles my shoulder as I shrug. “Who knows.”
“We’re officially off duty. The bride and groom have made their exit. Just a couple drinks, then I’ll whisk you away before you turn into a pumpkin…or make a huge fool of yourself,” she goads me.
“Oh, look who’s practicing for open mic night,” I joke.
“Okay, Cindy, just for that, shots it is. I heard they have this amazing coconut-infused tequila.” Her wicked smile is back. This could be trouble.
Chapter 4
Carter
What’s one more drink? The amber burns as it goes down.
I glance down at the sexy black heels on the stool next to me, and yeah, I definitely need it now.
I’ve been watching her across the dance floor for nearly half an hour, maybe more, swaying to the music, dark hair escaping and falling over her bare shoulders. Standing, I adjust myself, down the rest of my drink, and grab the heels before heading toward their owner.
