Between Hello and Goodbye(17)

She seemed genuinely surprised. “You do?”

“Am I wrong?”

Faith glanced at her hands. “I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have.”

“Prove it.”

Her eyebrows went up again. Thoughts flashed behind her green eyes. “Fine. I’ll stick around for a few days, but you have to do something for me.”

“And here I thought using my four days off was something.”

“It’s a big deal, and I appreciate it, but it’s not going to be super fun if you’re scared the whole time.”

“Scared?”

“Of getting emotionally attached to me.”

I leaned back on the chair and crossed my arms. “I think you’re overestimating how much fun you are to be around.”

“Impossible. I’m loads of fun,” she said with a wink. “But my job is to read people, remember? I see beyond their objections and boundaries and get to what they really want.”

“And what do I really want?” I asked, tensing all over. I hadn’t asked myself that question in years and now here was this woman, breaking me down like a damn sledgehammer.

“You don’t want any messy complications with a hapless yet irresistibly charming tourist, so you’ve put up this gruff firefighter-who’s-seen-it-all act to keep your distance.” She smiled victoriously when I shifted in my chair. “I’m really good at my job.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also in the same boat, except I hide my allergy to emotions with bad jokes and meaningless sex.”

I smirked. “Where do I sign up?”

Faith’s smile was blinding. “Ah! I knew you had a sense of humor lurking in there. Your hotness factor just ratcheted up ten notches.” She shook her head and made a tsking sound. “What a shame. Part of my misguided attempt at personal growth is that I’ve sworn off men for the foreseeable future, and here you are, kicking in the door to my life.” Her tongue touched the top of her parted lips and her eyes darkened as they grazed over every inch of me. “The universe is testing me. Hard.”

My groin tightened at the word hard coming out of her mouth and the heated scrutiny of her gaze, drinking me in. Christ, everything about her begged me to take her on the couch right then and there.

“It’s testing the hell out of me too,” I admitted gruffly and dragged my eyes away from the bronzed skin of her thigh.

“We must stay strong. Friendly.” She thrust out her hand. “Hi, I’m Faith Mabel Benson from Manhasset, New York. Daughter of Millie Monroe Benson and Kevin Benson of Sag Harbor, who is currently in Bali on his third honeymoon.”

“Wait…Mabel?”

Faith whacked my arm. “Hush. Your turn.”

“Uh, Asher Mackey of the North Bend Mackeys. Brother to Morgan, uncle to Kal, brother-in-law to Nalani of the key lime pies.”

“Parents?”

“Out of the picture,” I said in a tone that invited no further discussion.

“Fair enough. There. Now you don’t have to try so hard to keep your distance. Four days, and I’ll be out of your life.”

That didn’t sound as appealing as it should’ve.

“You’ve got that stiff look again.” She cocked her head. “Would it break the ice more to tell you my new stepmother is five years younger than me?”

Maybe it was the way Faith batted her eyelashes, her lips twisted wryly, or something about her that was sort of irresistible, but I burst out laughing.

“Four days,” she said, “and then I’ll reevaluate my prospects. And I’m not going to sleep with you, firefighter.”

“I don’t expect you to,” I said and couldn’t help but grin, “but let’s leave that door open.”

“Closed,” she corrected with a sly smile. “But I’ll leave it unlocked.”





Chapter Five



The next morning, Monday, my phone chimed a text I barely heard for all the birds singing and the roosters crowing outside my window. No one had mentioned that Kauai is chock-full of chickens. They meandered all over the grass and walkways outside my condo and even perched in the trees.

I reached for the phone on the bedside table, squinting through early morning sunlight at a text from Viv.

Barneys today, maggies after. Meet at noon?

I carefully pushed myself to sitting up against the pillows and stifled a yawn. Asher Mackey hadn’t left until nearly midnight. I’d never spent so much time in a man’s presence just talking. I started to type a response to Viv about the novelty of conversing with a man—and remembering it the next day—when I recalled that I’d neglected to tell my friend that we were no longer in the same time zone. I’d basically high-tailed it out of Seattle without so much as an aloha to anyone but Silas.

I bit my lip and typed in over-compensating all-caps. HEY YOU! Can’t today.

Viv’s response came punctuated with champagne glass emojis. Out late last night? I thought U were quiet.

I sighed. No point in dragging it out. I’m in Hawaii.

My phone rang instantly. I gingerly put it to my ear. “Hey, Viv.”

“You’re where? Since when?”

“I got in Saturday night.” Which felt like a lifetime ago, all things considered.