He smiles, white teeth flashing, and despite his dark glasses I see the creases at the corners of his eyes. Sun-burned surfer boy. My heart lurches, and I’m still not sure why I wanted him, picked him, what I saw in a man ten years my junior, a man who is so comfortable in his skin.

Maybe I’d hoped he’d make me feel comfortable in mine.

I suddenly laugh. “What am I doing here, Kai Carson?”

“Having a good time.”

My nose crinkles as I smile. “Yeah. That’s right.”

He leans forward again, kisses me a second time, his sunglasses bumping mine. “It’s okay to be happy. You’re supposed to have a good time.” He stands up, extends a hand to me. “Let’s go get something cold to drink before my next lesson.”

Later, I watch him paddle out with his final lesson. He’s been in the water all day, dragging students on their boards, pushing them into waves, paddling this way and that to retrieve the ones who refuse to paddle themselves.

I relax as he disappears onto the horizon and lean back in my chair. There’s a wind and it’s warm. The palm trees bend over the edge of the cliff, curving toward the sea, and the wind whips at the fronds, blowing them like a hula girl’s grass skirt.

Before I met Kai, I don’t think I ever really saw Hawaii. I don’t think I saw past the tourists and the hotels and the crowded Waikiki beaches. But since meeting Kai, Hawaii has come to life for me, all green mountains, warm wind, and white-crested waves.

Chapter Eleven

Eleven

By the end of the day, I know he’s got to be exhausted. He’s given lessons all day and now carried a dozen surfboards downstairs, but he returns to me with an easy smile and a jingle of car keys. “What’s your plan?”

“Anything that includes you.”

He laughs, jingles his keys again. “Good girl.”

It does sound like a great line, I think as we walk away, but he knows I mean it. I’m back here in Hawaii because of him.

We head to Chuck’s above Duke’s for dinner, and as we pass through Duke’s patio, I spot Santa Claus dancing on the steps to the live band now playing. Well, at least he looks like a tan Santa Claus in a loud tropical print shirt. Santa’s hopping from one foot to the other, and I point him out to Kai as we pass.

“Kris Kringle,” Kai says, and I grin, because that’s exactly what I was thinking.

We sit down and take our menus, and I haven’t been this happy or this relaxed since, well… when I was last here.