Waikiki Wedding: Unforgettable Nights in Hawaii

by Chris Keniston

  Unfortunately stealing even a long weekend to slip away had proven nearly impossible for Amy. Reality had been an irritating pain in the ass. When Doug told Amy that he and his fiancée, Emily, could carve out a few days for a short visit to San Francisco, Amy’s roommate Carrie had announced a change in her wedding plans. Carrie and Bryce, her fiancé, had decided to ditch the huge wedding her mom had been organizing, along with all the headaches. The new plan—a smaller, more intimate affair in a tropical oasis at the first available date for all the roommates to escape to—just happened to be the same weekend Doug and Amy had scheduled their visit.

  Reality really had a nasty sense of humor.

  Amy’s other roommate Linda had been the one to come up with the solution, and it took little persuading to convince Carrie, the bride-to-be, that Hawaii was the perfect wedding venue. The appeal of Waikiki and Diamond Head was enough of a draw for Carrie and Bryce. So now, arriving a couple of days ahead of the rest of the bridal party, Amy sat anxiously waiting for Doug to drive in from the airport.

  She looked down at her phone once again. Doug was in the cab and on his way. The urge to squeal almost won out over her sense of decorum. Even though there was no chance in hell of him arriving for at least a few more minutes, she focused on the front doors, watching the people mill about the lobby. Most were on their way to or from the beach. One couple stood surrounded by bags. New arrivals.

  Another ping. This time from Linda. She was packed and counting the hours until her flight tomorrow. Amy answered with a smiley face, then looked up to the front doors again. Her gaze collided with a handsome man by the suitcases, tall and blond. He smiled. He had a very nice smile. And he also had a very pretty wife. Sighing, Amy told herself she would find her match someday.

  Her phone pinged again, this time from Doug. Where are you?

  Almost kicking her chair out from under her, she sprang to her feet, scanning the front door. Terrace Café corner table, she responded.

  And there he was, walking through the triple glass doorway, a small bag in hand. She knew the second he spotted her. A broad smile took over his face, and his pace quickened to a near trot. Scooting around the table, she felt herself scooped into a strong bear hug. For a few long seconds she just held on. All the memories of her brother holding her tight, telling her everything would be all right, rocking her back to sleep when she'd had a nightmare, came flooding back. "Doggie," she mumbled in his ear.

  "You realize"—he lessened his hold and leaned back—"you can't keep calling me that."

  Water pooled in her eyes.

  "Okay, never mind," he said in a rush. "You can call me anything you want."

  She swiped quickly at the escaping tears. "No. It's not that. I just can't believe you're here."

  "In living color."

  Once again they drew together in a comforting embrace before she pulled back, making one more pass at brushing away the joyful tears. "You must be hungry."

  "Always. Let me check in and drop off my bag, then we can head out to the base. There's a great restaurant by the shore. You can even watch the airplanes landing and taking off."

  Not really wanting to retreat from him, Amy forced her feet to move and to retrieve her belongings from her table. Her brother, however, hadn't budged. His stance went from casual to stiff. Removing his Ray-Bans, he stared at the water, his brows creased in a deep frown, reminding her of a guard dog on alert.

  "What's wrong?"

  He shifted his weight forward, like a cat preparing to pounce, then, just as suddenly, he relaxed and smiled. "Nothing. Everything appears under control now."

  "What?"

  Once again her brother's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward. Following his gaze, Amy spotted a beehive of activity where a crowd had gathered by the shore. She could barely make out a young boy, sitting hunched on the sand, coughing. Soaking wet, the handsome man she'd noticed earlier in the lobby, kneeled over the child. Somehow the guy had become the target of one very petite and clearly very angry woman, who, yelling in a foreign language, whacked him repeatedly with an umbrella. "Oh my."

  The crowd chimed in, and, just when Amy thought her brother would leap over the railing to help the guy, the tiny irate woman threw her arms around the now-standing man and, still hollering, clung to him.

  Amy shadowed her eyes with her hand. "I wonder what's going on."

  "My Japanese is a little rusty." The tension in Doug's shoulders slipped away, even as his gaze remained fixed on the hubbub of activity on the beach. "But, from what I can tell, the fireball is the boy's mother. She didn't see the blond guy pull her son out of the water. All she saw was him doing compressions—to expel the water from her son's lungs—and freaked."

  "Do you think the boy will be okay?"

  "If he's strong enough to sit up, he'll be fine. I'd be more worried about the kid's rescuer. It wouldn't surprise me if the way that woman was attacking him, he has a concussion."

  "Never underestimate a mama bear protecting her cubs." Amy tried for a hint of humor.

  "I'd rather face a band of terrorists." Doug smiled as he spoke, but the words left Amy cold. From anyone else the statement might have been funny, but she'd heard enough about her navy brother to know he knew exactly what he was talking about.

  • • •

  Wringing the water from his T-shirt, then waving at the crowd of women who now seemed to have crowned him King Ray, he trudged up the beach to the hotel. Despite his better judgment, he couldn’t help stealing a glance at the corner table of the terrace restaurant. The woman and her husband were gone.

  Carrying his shoes and socks, his only dry items of clothing, a dripping Ray stepped onto the cold lobby floor. His sister and her friend were still chattering away. When they saw him, Tish laughed. “I guess you couldn’t wait to dive into the Hawaii experience.” She looked up at his face. “What the hell happened to your head?”

  Ray felt the growing knot at his temple. “It’s nothing.” He glanced down at their suitcases. “Our room’s not ready yet?”

  “Why don’t you use ours to change into dry clothes?” Lisa reached into her pocket and held out her room key card. “Room 804. Matt’s gone to play golf. Feel free to use the shower.”

  Ray would have politely declined but for the soggy clothes sticking to his skin. “If you’re sure you don’t mind …”

  Lisa shrieked excitedly. Her odd response baffled him, until he realized it was not directed at him but at a young couple just entering the hotel. The woman clutched at a shoulder bag and two large totes, and the man wore an infant strapped to his chest.

  Lisa waved frantically at the family. “Over here!”

  Spotting them, the woman returned a wave and led her party toward them. Ray mouthed to his sister. Not the bride?

  Tish laughed and shook her head. “Ray, this is Jessica and her husband, Josh, and their baby, Anthony.” She grabbed Ray’s arm and presented him to the newcomers as if he were a prize. “My brother Ray. Brady couldn’t make it.”

  Okay, maybe the booby prize. “Nice to meet you. Catch you all later after I get out of these wet clothes.” He headed to the elevator, his damp feet slapping against the tile floor.

  In Lisa's room, Ray dabbed a cold wet washcloth against his face and then quickly showered. The pretty glass bottles of fragrant shampoo smelled of coconut and pineapple and probably contained all kinds of healthful ingredients. He dried off with a fluffy towel and had just stepped from the bathroom when he heard a key turn in the lock. Damn. Housekeeping in the middle of the afternoon? He wrapped the towel more securely around his waist.

  A young man stepped inside, dragging a set of golf clubs. When he saw Ray, the man stopped short.

  “You must be Lisa’s husband,” Ray said in a rush. He extended his hand to the man staring daggers at him.

  “I am.” The husband ignored his hand. “Who the hell are you?” His eyes darted around the room. “And where is my wife?”

  Ray swallowed. “I�
�m Tish’s brother, Ray Varner. The girls are down in the lobby. I kind of took a dip in the ocean with my clothes on, and Lisa offered—”

  “A shower and a place to change. Got it.” Tension drained from his stance. He studied Ray’s bruised face. “Looks like I’m not the only person you pissed off today.” He opened the closet door and set the golf bag inside. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You need something for that bruise? I can roust up some ice.”

  “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just get dressed and out of your way in five.”

  “Take your time.” Matt pocketed the key card he still held in his hand. “I’ll head downstairs. Maybe we’ll catch you later at dinner?”

  “Probably.”

  When the door closed behind Matt, Ray opened his suitcase and rustled through it for his underwear but couldn’t find the mesh bag he’d packed them in. Damn. When Tish had needed to switch out some of the heavier items in her suitcase for something lighter, his underwear must have wound up in her luggage.

  Clutching the towel, he opened the door, hoping to catch Matt, but he was no longer in sight. Stepping out to see if he was still at the elevator, Ray heard the sickening sound of the hotel door clicking shut behind him.

  Chapter Three

  "I think it's going to be so much fun having a sister." Amy propped herself against the doorframe of her brother's hotel room while he took a minute to set down his bag and wash his hands.

  "Don't forget, whether you know it or not," he said over the running water, "you'll be getting an entire extended family. The Everretts already think of you as one of their own."

  "Considering you're not one of their own yet, I think it's supercool. Mom and Dad are only children, so with no aunts and uncles or cousins it's always been just the four of us. Even though I knew Kathleen Everrett lived in San Francisco, when she called to meet me for lunch, I was so surprised. Almost as excited as I've been waiting to finally see you face-to-face."

  Amy had had a pleasant lunch with Emily's middle sister, Kathleen. As well as telephone conversations with the eldest Everrett sister, Ava; and her brother, Billy; and her mother, Maille; and her mother's best friend, Missy; and anyone else who happened to be at the Everrett household while Amy was on the phone.

  "Ava came within inches of flying in with Emily tonight," Doug said. "She insisted she was only coming to play tour guide, but, in the end, she settled for simply making all the arrangements for us to see the island tomorrow."

  Amy suspected keeping them all from chartering their own plane had been a massive effort for someone. "I'm surprised the whole family didn't come."

  Doug yanked the towel off the rack to dry his hands. "Emily might have had to finesse them a bit."

  Amy was so enjoying this ordinary chatter with her brother. Except for the insanity of their very first conversation, now when they spoke, she could almost forget that they'd been separated for most of her life. "The Everretts can be finessed?"

  "Sometimes. Emily's the baby and really good at it. Which reminds me—she wanted me to apologize profusely over and over that she couldn't miss the planning meeting at school and fly in with me this afternoon. Hence, why she’s arriving tonight instead."

  Amy watched her brother neatly replace the towel on the rack. No man she'd ever known had been that neat. She wondered if maybe it was a navy thing. "I'm just really happy you didn't make me wait any longer to see you. I barely got a wink of sleep last night, and, if I had two bites of dinner or breakfast, it was a lot. I'd have probably died of anticipation if I'd been kept waiting another hour."

  Doug chuckled and came back into the room. "Frankly Emily was ready to put me on a plane last night. Something ridiculous about a caged lion."

  Close enough to reach her brother, she stretched her arms around his waist and held on tight. Again. "I hope you don't mind if I keep doing this. I think I'm still afraid I might wake up and discover none of this has been real."

  Holding on to her, he kissed the top of her head. "I may need a little reassuring myself."

  "Anytime." She stepped back, and, at that second, Doug's stomach growled. "We'd better get going. I don't want to be the reason you starve to death."

  Smiling down at her, Doug opened the door and waved her on, but she'd only managed to take a single step when she stopped short at the man in a towel standing across the hall.

  His blond head whipped around, a flash of horror filling deep blue eyes. Large hands immediately dropped from the doorknob to readjust the knot at his hip.

  Really nice hips. Hips that led north to really broad strong muscled shoulders.

  Mr. Handsome Married To Pretty Wife in Lobby cleared his throat. "Uhm—"

  Before the man could say another word, Doug broke the awkward moment. "Why don't you call housekeeping from my room."

  Amy felt herself tugged back into the room by her brother's grip. Suddenly realizing she was still staring at the hunk of a guy in nothing but a towel, she felt her cheeks heat with mortification for gawking like a hormonal teen.

  "Oh, yes. Thanks. I, uh …"

  Doug raised his hand to silence the man. "Been there, done that. Once without the towel."

  This time Amy's head snapped around to look at her brother.

  At her expression, Doug's face pinched with what might have been embarrassment but most certainly was regret—if not for his long-ago actions, at least for giving them voice. "Sorry about that."

  "No problem." She wasn't a prude or anything; it would just take a little more time to get used to an all-grown-up man for a brother. In her head he was still only eleven years old and reading her bedtime stories.

  Mr. Towel dropped the phone into the cradle. "Someone will be up to let me back in. I had a little incident on the beach and—"

  "How's the head?" Doug interrupted.

  Towel Guy's hand immediately lifted to his temple. "Not bad."

  "She was pretty pissed."

  "You saw?"

  Doug nodded. "Had you not had everything under control, I'd have been at your side."

  "I may have had the boy under control. The woman—not so much." Towel Guy rubbed his temple again, and Doug chuckled.

  "One more whack and I'd have stepped in."

  "You couldn't have thought to do that a little sooner?" Towel Guy smiled at her brother, his gaze darting to Amy, and she thought a hint of embarrassment colored his cheeks. Or maybe it was just the Honolulu sun.

  Doug shrugged and turned toward the sound of laughter drifting up the hall and growing louder.

  "I think that may be my key." Towel Guy tightened the knot once again and circled the room, giving Doug and Emily a wide berth. Opening the door, he met his wife along with another attractive woman.

  Towel Guy turned and lifted a hand in a brief wave. "Thanks."

  Doug shot him a thumbs-up, and Amy wondered why not even one of the guys she'd dated had looked like Mr. Towel. Then she wondered why the hell couldn't she have found him first.

  • • •

  “I’m starving,” Jessica announced.

  The hostess seated their party at a large table in the hotel restaurant.

  “You think they have cheeseburgers here?”

  “Most likely,” her husband assured her.

  Jessica and Josh. And baby Anthony. Ray concentrated on gluing the names to the faces he’d seen briefly a couple of hours earlier. Lisa and Matt held hands as if they were still newlyweds. All of the women, he’d learned, had met while taking a yoga class his sister taught. The men each had met and married in the last few years seemed to get along as easily as if they'd known one another all their lives. Ray was the only outsider. Although everyone was friendly and tried to include him in their conversations, the attempts seemed like courteous obligations for the benefit of the new guy.

  As soon as Josh removed the infant from the carrier and sat him in the high chair provided, the baby began to cry. “I think he’s hungry too, Jess.”
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  The baby’s mother shoved her arm into the diaper bag and retrieved a cloth towel, then a bottle and a warming device. She took the baby from her husband and settled Anthony on her lap. “He’s sleepy too.”

  “Not surprising,” Josh said, “since he was awake and wiggling the whole damn flight.”

  “Guess all you guys are pretty tired.” Tish looked at Ray. “At least we got some sleep on the plane.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Ray hadn’t slept a wink, but that was by choice. Flying over the Pacific hadn’t been quite as exciting as the awesome view of the Grand Canyon on his way to Los Angeles, but, even just watching clouds and ocean, he’d felt as excited as a kid at Christmas.

  A gorgeous red-haired woman, wearing a halter top and one of those skirts that were actually shorts, appeared at the restaurant entrance and glided toward them. Were all California women beautiful? Surely this one must be the bride. Ray eyed his sister, and she nodded.

  “I got us booked on the all-day island tour tomorrow,” the redhead announced, holding up a fistful of tickets. She glanced at Jessica and Josh. “Good thing you guys already have plans to go to Pearl Harbor because there were only five spots left.” She slid into the empty chair between Josh and Matt and counted on her fingers. “So it’ll be Matt and Lisa, me, and Tish and—”

  Ray stood and reached his hand across the table. “Ray Varner. Best wishes on your wedding.”

  “Courtney Clark. I’m glad you could come.” She shot him a megawatt smile. “Tish, you never told us your brother was so hot.” She leaned across the table and stage-whispered to his sister. “Is he the brain or the athlete?”

  So that was how Tish had described him and his younger brother, Bobby. “Neither,” Ray said, scooting her chair to the table. “I played football in college but that seems like ages ago.”