Bad Boys for Hire_Ken_Hawaiian Holiday

by Rachelle Ayala

  “See? That means plans have changed,” Nikki said, looking at the piece of paper. “I can’t believe the rest of this. Marlin fishing for ten hours when you’re prone to motion sickness. Another killer hike. What? Sneaking up the Stairway to Heaven. Oh, and the Dole Pineapple plantation, so romantic.”

  “Give that back.” The itching spread onto Jolie’s arms. She had forgotten her sunscreen, something she was usually meticulous about. “We already paid for the charter.”

  “I’m sure I can scalp the charter to someone who didn’t plan months in advance,” Nikki said. “Maybe those guys from the gymnastics team want to go. The question is, what do you want to do?”

  Jolie caught Ken’s eye as he raised an eyebrow. Carol, also, gave her a questioning look.

  “Why are you all grilling me? This is my honeymoon.”

  “Without the groom,” Nikki most unhelpfully reminded. “You should figure out what you want to do for the rest of your vacation.”

  “My vacation?” Jolie threw up her hands. “I’m only here to finish what I started. The wedding and honeymoon. I can’t let anything go to waste.”

  “Your time’s a wasting,” Nikki said. “I have an idea. Carol and I have some investigations to do. This hike was decidedly not handicap friendly. I’m going to put together a wheelchair access guide to touring the island of Oahu.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Carol quickly agreed.

  “Which means we’re splitting up.” Nikki grabbed the wheelchair handlebars. “You and Ken can reenact the honeymoon to your heart’s content.”

  She pushed the wheelchair down the path.

  “I don’t believe this,” Jolie said. “I always finish what I start.”

  Ken put his arm around her shoulder. “Shouldn’t you enjoy yourself instead of checking things off a list?”

  “Yes and no. I hate how I have to make a list and do everything on it. It’s just that we planned everything already.”

  “Plans change. It might be fun to be surprised, don’t you think?”

  It felt so comfortable walking with him, side by side down the trail toward the parking lot. Meeting Ken and Carol were good surprises, too.

  He turned his face toward her, and she kissed him without thinking.

  “Did you plan that?” he asked. “The kiss you just gave me?”

  “No, I didn’t. It felt right,” she stammered, unable to take her gaze off his.

  “Then let’s do whatever feels right from now on. Take a chance, and let me surprise you.”

  Jolie’s breath caught in her throat. She’d never allowed herself to let things happen.

  “I like to be prepared,” she said. “You’re not going to surprise me with anything dangerous, are you?”

  “The only preparation you need is sunscreen, a hat, a bikini, and your smile.” He dipped for another peck on the lips. “Think you can do it?”

  “Can I trust you? I have to give you a list of things I can’t do and foods I can’t eat.”

  “I’ll take your list into consideration, but I’m still going to surprise you.” Ken pulled her closer and stepped off the trail behind a tree with lush foliage. “Since we’re pretending to be on our honeymoon, you’re going to have to let me take the lead and pay for everything. That’s tradition.”

  “Yes, tradition.” She barely breathed as he crushed her lips with a deep, aggressive kiss—nothing sweet or nice, but oh so very hot.

  Eleven

  That evening, Jolie held hands with Ken as they sat inside a small community theater. The air conditioning was perfect, and she was neither too hot or too cold.

  They’d had dinner at a healthy farm-to-table restaurant, or as the locals called it, “locovore,” serving gluten-free menus with locally grown organic fruits and vegetables with range-fed beef and foraging chickens.

  “The set design is so tropical. I love the mixture of colors,” Jolie said, leaning her head on Ken’s shoulder.

  “You’ll love the story, too. It’s Hawaii’s version of Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Seriously? Why is true love always forbidden?”

  “In this case, they caused their own problems,” Ken explained. “Fire and water don’t mix, do they? Anyway, I won’t tell you the entire story, other than the hero is a man who shapeshifts into a pig.”

  “A pig man?” Jolie pinched Ken’s tight belly. “Are you talking about yourself?”

  “Only if you’re the fiery one.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “You’re a strong woman, Jolie. And very determined. I’m glad you’re letting me refresh you. Think of me as balm over your burns, water over your sparks, a safe haven of rest.”

  “You’re so romantic.” Jolie shivered with a frisson of delighted chills. She snuggled closer and was rewarded by him stroking her arm. The little, subtle touches and the way he would look at her, as if there were no others present, tempted her to jump in, as if he were her personal swimming hole.

  “I’m a surfer who loves stories.” He kissed her, a simple peck on the lips. “And I want to retell your story and give you a happy ending.”

  Happiness suffused Jolie and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath scented with his sporty cologne and the heat coming off his body. Why couldn’t Warren have been so romantic and sweet? Could it be the spark was long gone, if it had ever existed?

  She’d met Warren three years ago right after she’d started her business. He’d stepped into her beauty salon while investigating the business next door for insurance fraud. After warning her about business scams, he’d asked her out. They’d slept together after the third date, progressed to exclusivity after six months and were engaged within two years with the schedule allowing for a full year of wedding planning. Everything had been mapped out perfectly, or so she’d thought.

  The play started, and Jolie was drawn in by the majestic costumes of the Hawaiian gods and goddesses. She caressed the lei Ken gave her, full of fresh flowers with sweet scents. If he was a storyteller aimed at fixing her sad song, she would enjoy all the pampering while their “honeymoon” lasted.

  Onstage, Pele and Kamapua‘a were fighting for dominion. She was the goddess of volcanoes, heat, and fire, and he was a demi-god, a trickster, whose rainfall made the harsh lava rock fertile and green.

  His gentle, persistent rainfall wooed Pele. She tried to fight him off, her fire turning his water to steam, consuming him as he flooded her with love.

  Tears watered Jolie’s cheek when Pele finally succumbed to one glorious night of love. The tough, prickly woman had turned tender, yielding to the fierce looking pig-man covered with sharp-edged tattoos.

  “Could this work?” Jolie asked Ken during intermission. “I’m afraid something’s going to happen.”

  He put a finger to her lips and grinned. “Fire and water should rule together, don’t you think?”

  “Depends on if they cancel each other. I’m afraid Pele doesn’t want to drown in his love and lose her identity.”

  “Is that what you’re afraid of, if you lose your lists and plans?” He led her to the refreshment stand. “Let me surprise you with a drink.”

  “It can’t have—”

  “I’ve got it.” He turned to the bartender and ordered a passion fruit mimosa, no grenadine, and no orange slice.

  Jolie’s heart was as light as a helium-filled balloon. Ken really did get it. He didn’t seem to mind that he couldn’t have a beer or snack with nuts, and he’d even wiped the seat handles with alcohol wipes before she sat down.

  “Wow, you do have my restrictions memorized.” Jolie took a sip of the cocktail. “Mmm … this is awesome.”

  “Told you, I have to butter you up before the second half of the play.”

  “Where it falls apart, I bet.” She twirled a finger around her red hair.

  “Maybe for them, but not for us.” He took her hand and she clasped it tight. She hadn’t told him she was afraid of water—of being dragged down and held under by a big wave.

  They stared
at each other, eyes always returning contact, as they made their way back to the auditorium. Being on a date with Ken was easy. He didn’t let her worry about a thing, whether it was getting good seats, or having a reservation for dinner.

  Except, he seemed too perfect—as if he were playing a part. Jolie finished the mimosa and handed him her champagne glass. She’d go with it for now, but there was definitely something off with how much care he showered on her, the same way Kamapua‘a deluged Pele with gifts of flowers, fruits, pigs, fish, wood, shells, and a giant outrigger canoe.

  What was in it for him?

  Twelve

  “That was such a sad story.” Jolie wiped tears from her eyes. “Why wouldn’t she relent?”

  “Pele wanted to rule her own domain.” Ken caressed Jolie’s hand. “She didn’t want to share.”

  “And that’s why each island has its dry side and wet side?” Jolie intertwined her fingers with Ken’s. “They’ll never be together again.”

  In the play, Pele regretted giving into the weakness of love and losing control. To keep Kamuapua‘a away, she spewed lava at him and caused an underground earthquake. She didn’t realize his deep love would cause him to rush into a lava tunnel to find her, fearing she’d been buried beneath the molten stone.

  The heat evaporated him, turning him into the hissing steam over the lava vents. When Pele saw him disappear into the wind, she was so distraught she hurled herself off a cliff and was dragged under by the treacherous surf.

  “That was the interpretation played here,” Ken explained. “In other versions, they’re both alive—some even say they’re husband and wife. He soothes her after each eruption, and she allows beautiful flowers and trees to grow from her soil.”

  “I like that much better.” Jolie strolled alongside Ken as they exited the theatre. The weather was tropical, and there was no evening chill, although the moist breeze soothed her sunburned shoulders.

  They browsed gift shops and wandered around various touristy monuments. The city was filled with obvious honeymooners, and several store owners assumed Jolie and Ken were newlyweds, complimenting her on the lei she wore and the happiness on her face.

  “Don’t you feel guilty, impersonating honeymooners?” Jolie sipped the free ice tea she got for being a supposed blushing bride.

  “Nope, as long as we’re enjoying ourselves,” Ken said. “Shall we head back to the hotel, my bride? I have a surprise for you.”

  “Another one?” Her heart was stirred by this wonderful man. “Do you think Carol and Nikki are okay? Should we check on them?”

  “They’re fine,” he replied with a sweet kiss. “Honeymooners aren’t supposed to worry about anything besides enjoying their new love.”

  Our new love? His words had her melting; every bone and muscle softening. Looking at him, feeling his lips on hers, and being surrounded by his warmth—it was hard to believe she wasn’t on her real honeymoon. If only …

  “Okay, then, I’m ready for your next surprise,” Jolie said, regathering her composure. “So far, nothing’s gone wrong. I’m not choking, it’s not raining, and the play was awesome.”

  “You’re allowed to surprise me, too,” he said as he took her hand. “I have no limitations, none whatsoever.”

  “Okay, then, let me think of something for you.” She kicked off her sandals when they got to the sand. It was still warm even though the sun had already set. The lights of the skyline blinked behind them as the peaceful sound of surf and the scent of the sea beckoned her toward the water.

  They walked leisurely, kissing every few steps, until she was up to her knees in the gentle surf. She let her hands wander under his shirt, warming them on the planes of his muscles.

  When he brushed her breasts, she sighed into his mouth with relief. It was about time he started acting like a honeymooner and not a boy scout. She’d ignored the fact that leading up to the wedding, she’d been too stressed out to have sex, not that the quickie wham-bam-not-even-a-thank-you-I-got-what-I-wanted qualified for any form of lovemaking. But still, her body had needs.

  Correction. She had needs—to be wanted, loved, and cherished.

  If the hard rod in Ken’s board shorts was any indication, he, at least, wanted her right now. Molten heat simmered in her belly, and she rubbed up against his giant erection.

  He moaned and broke the kiss. “I want you so badly, I’m going to take you right here.”

  “Is that what honeymooners say?” She teased him by wiggling against him, but before he could reply, she drew his head down between her breasts.

  “You’re killing me,” he said right before mouthing her through her clothes. “If we don’t get indoors, we’re going to be arrested.”

  She heard the catcalls around them, so she complied when he dragged her from the surf. They picked up their sandals and ran, hand in hand.

  As soon as the elevator doors closed, they locked lips again, touching and tangling their hands and body parts. Her knees weakened, and she felt her skin glow with a scintillating expectation.

  If the way he kissed were any indication of the rest of his lovemaking, she was in for an experience she’d never forget.

  She sealed her lips against his and kissed him greedily. This hunk of a man was hers for the duration of her honeymoon, and one of the things people did on their honeymoon was have sex.

  The elevator doors opened with a well-greased slide, forcing them apart. Taking her hand, Ken led her down the hallway toward her room.

  Fingers of anxiety crept up her neck, and she glanced quickly left and right. “Your room or mine? What if Nikki’s there?”

  “She’s not. She texted me earlier. She and my sister checked out. They’re going on an around-the-island car tour. Ready for your surprise?” He swooped her off her feet and raced toward her door.

  “You’re my surprise.” Jolie latched onto him, hugging him with both her arms and legs and smothering his face with kisses. “This is going to be my best honeymoon ever.”

  “Mmmm …” His tongue mated with hers, now unrestrained as he plundered her mouth. He set her down and trapped her against the door, rocked his arousal against her hips and gazed at her with half-closed bedroom eyes—darkened with passion. “Do you want this, Jolie?”

  His rough voice sent tingles of pleasure down her spine, especially the way he said her name, all rough and rumbling.

  She stared him straight in the eye. No flinching. Not a hesitation in sight and nodded. “Yes, I want this. I want the perfect honeymoon.”

  “So do I, with you.” He lowered his head to her neck. His long, slow sucking kiss had her knees ready to give out as she fumbled for her keycard in her purse.

  He palmed her breasts and teased, pinching her nipples through her clothes, and she dropped her purse. Why was he torturing her so much? Couldn’t he wait until they were safely in the room?

  “Wait. Let me get the door,” she mumbled weakly.

  She bent to pick up her purse and the door opened behind her. She half fell into the room and hit something hard—well, not quite as hard as Ken.

  “Jolie, what the hell?” Warren grabbed her wrists and turned on Ken. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Thirteen

  Jolie blinked, once, twice, three times, but Warren didn’t disappear. Hot and cold sweat fought to exit her pores, and she reeled as if she’d been slammed by a monster wave and trolled on the bottom of the sea.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Ken slink away. Apparently, he hadn’t cared enough to stand by her. But then he was only an actor, and this was her groom, Warren Wayne, the man she was supposed to have married.

  Warren slammed the door and dragged her to the bed. His mean green eyes were fierce with anger, and his sandy blond hair hung over his eyebrows.

  “How dare you change the tickets on me.” He glared at her. “You should have waited for me.”

  “Waited for you? You dumped me at the wedding.” The words tumbled from her mouth. “You embarrassed me in front
of all our guests. Your parents didn’t know where you were. You didn’t answer any of our text messages. We thought you took off with the stripper.”

  “Took off with her? Are you out of your mind? She was the hired help.”

  “Hired help?” Jolie pushed off the bed and jutted her chin at him. “As in whore? I can’t believe that was the last thing on your mind before marrying me.”

  “You had your bachelorette party. I’m sure you had male strippers.”

  “To look at, not to touch. There’s a big difference.”

  “Whoever that beach bum was, you certainly weren’t just looking at him. You were all over him. Ready to fuck him.”

  “I went on a date, that’s all.” Jolie crossed her arms and pinched her upper arms to tamp down her rising anger. “Seeing as you decided not to marry me, I’m entitled to a little fun.”

  “I was tied up by your friends, Terri, Nikki, and Ryker. While you were out there tossing the bouquet and cutting into our cake, I was gagged and bound on a hotel bed. Why did you believe them and not come looking for me?” He grabbed Jolie by the shoulders.

  She shuddered at the ick factor crawling up her skin at being touched by Warren’s clammy hands. Anger roiled in her belly and she snorted. “Did you have sex with the stripper? And don’t lie. My brother said he hadn’t gotten his turn yet, so it looks like you were first in line.”

  “Your brother’s a fink.”

  “Oh, please, come up with something better.” Jolie sneered and wiped his hands from her. “If you had sex with the stripper, I don’t want you to touch me.”

  “I wasn’t married to you yet. I can do what I want.”

  Jolie was too pissed to roll her eyes. Did the man not get commitment? True love? Security and family?

  She pointed to the door. “Get out. Go. You never cared about me. I almost died at the luau you wanted to go to because they had peanuts there. As for Big John’s Shrimp truck, they don’t serve anything but shrimp, something I’m deathly allergic to.”