“I wish he didn’t hate me so much.” The night before she’d gone into the house to talk to Maria. Just inside the door, Pali was arranging a stack of boxes marked GOODWILL. Maria had taken Quinn’s advice to first clean out all the years of clutter before beginning to pack what was left. Quinn was relieved she had finally begun the process and was making good progress. Liam had even taken a truckload of better household items to be dispersed around the family, including their shabby green couch and armchair, which Kupuna said weren’t worth keeping.

“It’s not you,” Liam said, looking sideways at her. “It’s the situation you represent. Don’t take it personal. But on the brighter side, now do you feel like you can handle most power tools?”

She blushed. His question made her remember the lesson he’d given her, his arms around her, and his hands on hers as they glided across the wood in smooth, caressing movements. It had felt too close for comfort. Almost sensual. But she hadn’t had the will to break away.

“I’m sure I could figure them out,” she lied. “One by one.”

He nodded emphatically. “No doubt. You handled that sander like a pro. I’d put you on my crew any day.”

The shutters, once cleaned and sanded, had looked pretty rough, but Liam had assured her that with a fresh coat of paint, they’d look like new.

“But I don’t want them to look like new,” she’d said.

“Oh,” he’d mocked her in a pitifully orchestrated girly voice, “you want them shabby chic?”

She’d thrown her head back and laughed loudly. Just hearing feminine words coming out of his masculine face had almost brought her to hysterical tears. She couldn’t believe he even knew the term, but he was right. That was exactly what she wanted.

The moment had broken the weird vibe that their closeness over the sander had brought about, and she smiled, remembering it. It took some practice, but by the end of the afternoon, the sander beneath her hands moved slowly and smoothly, with languid strokes that felt almost forbidden.

Liam was something else. He could be tough as nails when he was working, soft and sweet when performing, and then amusing as could be when he wanted. Yes, she had to give it to him, he was quite the chameleon.

Like today. Magically, instead of the intense construction guy or the fearless surfer, she was looking at a gracious tour guide behind the wheel. He was full of surprises.

“Just a few more miles,” he said when they rounded another hairpin curve. “Oh, Quinn, I forgot to tell you that I saw the car on the way over to Maria’s this morning.”

“What car?”