Seashells & Mistletoe (Hawaiian Holiday Book 2)

by Rachelle Ayala

  He unplugs the headphones and plays a recording of me talking to the room service staff.

  “That’s why I told you to turn off your phone this morning,” Sylvester says, pointing at the laptop screen. “See here? All the folders from before Maui belong to Jordan. There’s a gap, and then someone added you as a user the day we stopped in Maui. They also transferred your apps and ebooks from your phone, even your screen saver and ringtones. The geo-location history shows the phone never left the cruise ship, but we know you and Jordan got off the ship that day.”

  Everything’s going over my head. “What’s the purpose for the swap?”

  Alice snickers as if it’s obvious. “For Stephen to take the hacked phone and give it back to you so he can continue to monitor you.”

  “Ah ha, if Stephen doctored the phone to detect your voice, Jordan might not have been aware he was recording you.” Sylvester strokes his chin as if he’s a detective gleaning a point.

  I grasp at all the straws I can reach. “Then Jordan is innocent?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Alice says, tapping her fingers on the desk. “Jordan could have fixed up his phone and swapped it so he could keep tabs on you and Stephen. He gave the phone to Stephen to return to you, but because it’s his phone, he can tap into it at any time.”

  I groan and drop my head to my hands. “He still could be guilty.”

  Alice grabs the phone and switches it off. “Here’s what you do. When you go back to your room, activate your phone and talk out loud. Flush out the guilty culprit and trap him in his own game.”

  “Good idea,” Sylvester agrees. “There’s still the chance Jordan is really on board and still spying on you.”

  Chapter 21

  It’s the night before New Year’s Eve, and I’m going to clear my decks. I spent the rest of the day with Sylvester and Alice, going door to door and gathering items I’ll need to expose the dirty, rotten spy.

  Do I really want to do this?

  Or should I let sleeping dogs lie?

  But sleeping with lying dogs means I’ll get fleas, too.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Sylvester asks. “It could be dangerous if they’re on board and listening in.”

  I hold my hand out on in a stop position. “We agreed we have to unmask the perp. It’ll be okay. Neither one would hurt me. I’m positive.”

  “Sure, but at least let me help you locate Jordan,” he persists. “We don’t want him sneaking up on you.”

  “Actually, I wouldn’t mind if he does pop in on me.” I swipe my access pass against the door to my cabin.

  “It’s safer if you have an early warning,” Alice says.

  “Okay, if you can set it up.”

  “Fight fire with fire.” Sylvester peels the back off my phone and inserts the SIM card. He powers up the phone and taps into an app he installed.

  Alice puts her finger to her mouth to warn me not to say anything else about spies. We spend the next half hour setting up the electronics and booby traps, but talking about mundane things like the New Year’s Eve party and our plans to keep in touch after disembarking.

  After they leave, it’s showtime.

  Stretching and moaning, I say out loud, “Wow. It’s been a crazy day. I sure wouldn’t mind a long, hot, and steamy shower.”

  I turn on the water as I talk to myself. “Year’s almost over, and I still can’t get laid. Sad. There’s not a single man on this cruise ship to sleep with. Guess I’ll just have to make do with me, myself, and my pink-headed toy.”

  I unwrap the gun-shaped vibrator and turn it on. The battery is fully charged. It hums and buzzes in all its flashy glory. With a flick of the hammer, I turn on the space gun sound effects. Whoop, whoop, whoop, the siren goes up and down and around.

  “Oh, I’m so-o horny.” I moan loud and long with my most luscious, erotic romance voice. “I want a real man so badly.”

  The sounds of the shower can clearly be heard. “I’m so wet and slippery, oh, gosh, this feels so good. Oh, yes, slip right on in, long and slow.”

  I increase the speed and tempo of the vibrator’s sound effects. “Harder. Harder. Faster. Don’t stop. Oh, my, gawwww!”

  I hit a button and put the device in turbo-charge mode. It’s noisier than a battle star full of space aliens and light sabers. Slipping out of the bathroom, I roll onto my bunk to make the springs squeak.

  “Ohhhh …, ahhhhh … I need a real man. Can’t hold on. Batteries, don’t die on me. Ahhh! Help. Need. Inside. Want. Sex!!! Take me. Someone, please help. I need a big, big, big, huge, enormous, ginormous, gargantuan thing-a-ma-jig between my legs. I’m coming, oh, I’m coming, so hard, going, going, gahhhh!!!”

  I speed up the device to a screeching climax. I bounce on the bunk, making sure to kick my heels against the wall and thump the floor, as if I’m bucking underneath my vibrator. The sound effects go full-on intergalactic, shooting laser sounds at warp speed.

  “Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh. I need more. More. I need a man. Where, oh, where can I get some cock? I. Need. Cock.”

  All the while, I keep an eye on my phone screen where Sylvester has put the warning app.

  The screen flashes yellow.

  Someone approaches.

  It goes to orange mode.

  They’ve stopped at my door.

  Red alert. Red alert. Red alert.

  I jump to the side of the bed behind a wardrobe and point my vibrator gun.

  The door opens and someone shouts, “Dani! Open your legs for me, you hot, slutty thing.”

  Flash! Pow. Pouf.

  My trap springs, spraying the intruder with glue diluted with apple juice, followed by bright-green fluorescent staining powder, the kind used to catch thieves, and an explosion of glitter bombs: silver, gold, and multi-colored. Rolls of toilet paper fall over my victim, along with a cascade of ping-pong balls lubed with olive oil. He screams like a baby and whirls around, trying to run. But the toilet paper twirls around him, and he slips over the oily ping-pong balls and falls flat on his back.

  “Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!” he screams, as I pop a balloon filled with ants over his head.

  The cameras and video cameras snap and whizz, and a loud “quacking” sound effect heralds the downfall of the creature who will be forever immortalized on the internet as the victim to the mother of all pranks.

  I high-five myself and hit the “post” button, but my stomach is sick. Even though I got my revenge, I can’t help feeling like I, too, am tainted by association.

  Sure enough, all my videos and photos went superviral, and the next day, New Year’s Eve, I’m the most popular person on board the S.S. Bird of Paradise.

  “You got him good,” Sheri says, slapping me on the back over breakfast. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t hook up with him?”

  “Lucky you aren’t married to him,” Joy says. “I heard he’s in hiding.”

  “He can’t get that stain off his skin,” Sylvester says. “I almost feel sorry for him. Those ant bites must itch.”

  “Thanks to you,” I chortle. That last pièce de résistance was a gift from Sylvester who got it at an ant farm store.

  “He deserved the humiliation,” Alice says, snickering and giggling up a storm. “It’s karma.”

  “This calls for a celebration.” Sheri pulls out a bottle of champagne and points it at me. “Now that the creep is unmasked, who are you going with to the New Year’s Eve Party?”

  “My good friends, Alice and Sylvester.” I link arms with my shuffleboard partners. “We’re going to ring in the new year with a new game.”

  “New game? You mean shuffleboard?”

  “Air hockey.” I crack my knuckles. “I was a champ in junior high school. Quick reflexes.”

  “There’s a lot of physics involved with air hockey,” Alice says. “Sylvester and I are up for the challenge.”

  “It’s going to be a grand night,” Joy concurs. “Dancing under the moonlight, fireworks, and a countdown clock.”

&nb
sp; “Kissing at midnight. Romance, a new beginning.” Sheri pops the cork from the champagne bottle. “Let’s all drink to new love.”

  We fill our flutes.

  “To love!”

  I clink glasses and toast my tablemates, but inside, my heart shrivels. Self-love is about all I’m going to get tonight.

  My trust level is too low to foolishly put my heart out there. Tomorrow is a new year, and tomorrow, I will be a different Dani Davison.

  I drink up and paste a smile on my face. I can do today, a minute at a time, and I can walk away, one step at a time.

  Once the ship docks in Los Angeles Harbor, I’ll disembark and live the life I want to live—not the one my parents trained me for, and definitely not the phony, stilted, predictable, and orderly life I sold myself short for.

  Chapter 22

  “You look absolutely lovely,” Sylvester says to me when I meet him and Alice in the World War II themed bar.

  I’m wearing a glittery, midnight-blue evening gown. The large pearl pendant I got from my oyster breakfast is nestled above my cleavage, and the Van Gogh starry night scarf is draped loosely over my shoulders.

  Sylvester is wearing a tux with tails, very natty, with a top hat and bow tie, and Alice flows like a silvery beam of light in her sleek, sequined gown.

  “You two are dazzling.” I lock arms with my buddies. “This is going to be a night to remember.”

  “Yes, and the cruise line is going all out to make it special,” Alice says. “Syl, if I make it to midnight, I get to check this off my bucket list.”

  “Ally, you don’t need a bucket list,” Sylvester says. “Everything you do is special and memorable, and you can’t possibly know ahead of time to make a list about it.”

  “You always take things so literally.” Alice chuckles instead of her usual snicker. “Let’s make this night last forever.”

  “You’re quiet,” Sylvester says, patting my arm. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m ready for forever, a moment at a time,” I reply. “Yes, I’ll just enjoy the here and now. Being on board this cruise with you two, learning so much about myself, all the ups and downs. Tonight, it’s out with the old, and in with the new. I’m ready.”

  “Good,” Alice says. “No more disappointments.”

  “Have great expectations,” Sylvester chimes in.

  “Yes,” I agree. “Let’s march into the future, not having a clue what comes next, and loving the not knowing.”

  The sit-down meal is exquisite: lobster, steak, salmon, and more. A jazz band entertains us, and after dessert and coffee, the three of us take a turn at dancing a three-way waltz.

  It’s tricky, but so much fun as we step and turn around, holding hands.

  Everyone’s in a jovial mood, and I take turns dancing with Joy and Sheri, cutting in on their dates. The fortieth-reunion crowd has mostly paired off, finally. Joy is with a man who formed the bottom of the pyramid, while Sheri is swinging around with the guy with the megaphone and the disco hat.

  We laugh.

  We mingle.

  We dance.

  We drink.

  A frisson of excitement tingles the small hairs on the back of my neck, and I have the strange feeling someone’s watching me.

  Maybe it’s wishful thinking.

  Or that I’ve had too much of the bubbly.

  But I’m expecting the unexpected.

  And there’s a name I won’t mention, because I don’t want to jinx my fate.

  So, I enjoy the moment, and I watch the countdown clock.

  “Ten-minute warning!” the disc jockey calls out. “Don’t forget to vote on the song of the new year. Grab a partner and pucker up.”

  I finish taking a selfie with the Singaporean water polo team and whip my head around, looking for my dates.

  A wry smile creases my cheeks when I spot Sylvester with the woman who was at the top of the Banning Pilots pyramid. They’re dancing the cha-cha-cha and look so cute together.

  Even though everyone is friendly and they want my autograph, no one asks me to dance.

  I don’t take it personally. Why would any man or woman risk the wrath of Dani Davison—the most notorious prankster on board the S.S. Bird of Paradise?

  For all they know, I still have a few more ant-infested balloons up my sleeve.

  I walk out of the ballroom and look for Alice to commiserate with. Now that Sylvester is otherwise occupied, she must have stepped out to look at the stars or get a spot on the top deck for the fireworks show.

  Stepping around a pillar, I hear giggling mixed with snickering. I stop and gape, then shut my mouth and sneak away.

  Alice is in the throes of kissing a young, Singaporean water polo player.

  Great. There’s seven minutes until midnight, and I’m all alone. The stars are bright and shiny, and the water rises and falls, rocking the boat gently as we get ready to ring in the new year.

  A large yacht floats alongside our ship and partiers on deck are dancing and having a great time, no doubt getting close to enjoy the fireworks show. A helicopter hovers above the yacht, and I can picture the rich people getting an extravagant view of the festivities.

  “Miss?” Someone taps me. “Are you Dani Davison?”

  It’s the crew member who delivered my room service. “Yes, what’s the matter?”

  “The captain wants to ask you a question.” He draws me to the front of the ship and speaks into a walkie-talkie. “I have Miss Davison here.”

  “Go ahead,” a voice crackles back. “Ask her.”

  “Dani, will you grab this slice of forever and come with me?”

  I know that voice anywhere! It’s Jordan.

  I gasp and my heart shoots to my throat. “Where are you?”

  “Look or leap?” he asks through the static of the walkie-talkie.

  The thumping of the rotor blades whip my scarf over my eyes, blinding me.

  This is it!

  The moment my life changes.

  I seize it and yell, “Leap.”

  “She said yes,” Jordan shouts. “Into the whirlwind you go.”

  The noise is deafening, and the wind of the rotor blades threatens to blow me off the deck. The crew member guides my hands onto a ladder, and I climb on, holding tight.

  Whoosh! I’m lifted away from the S.S. Bird of Paradise and suspended over the mighty ocean.

  I scream and laugh at the same time, hanging on as the ladder is drawn upward.

  Down below, people are waving, and the countdown numbers flash, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, …”

  A pair of strong hands lifts me and pulls me into the chopper, and I’m wrapped into the snugness of a leather cape.

  “Three, two, one.” I keep count and then lose my voice as a pair of lips lock with mine, and Jordan takes my breath away.

  Flashes of light explode and arc into the night sky, but all I want to see is the man I leaped for without looking.

  Epilogue

  “The End. This has been Love Before You Leap, narrated by Jordan Reed and Dani Davison.”

  Jordan and I switch off our recording equipment and high-five each other on another successful audiobook for our favorite romance author.

  “Ready for a dip?” He strips off his shirt as I race him from our soundproof studio up to the deck of our yacht.

  “Last one in is a mistle …” I don’t finish because Jordan lifts me over his shoulders and tosses me into the water.

  I float on my back, eyes closed to the warmth of the tropical sun and let myself drift over the calm waters of an island in the South Pacific.

  It’s been a year since we dropped out of the world. We’ve been sailing to and fro, wherever the wind and waves take us, living in the unknown.

  We travel the seven seas and visit our friends when they least expect it. Alice has moved to Singapore, and Sylvester moved to Cape Town. Sven stayed in the Hawaiian Islands, but Joy and Sheri returned to Los Angeles—Pilots forever.

  “Are you calling me
a mistletoe?” Jordan does a swan dive and splashes water in my face.

  He shakes the water from his hair and swims toward me, mischief in his eyes.

  “Yes, because you’re so lowly, no one would ever suspect you of being a weapon,” I contend. “Soft, flaccid, weak.”

  “Beware my mistletoe spear,” Jordan roars and grabs me around my waist. He’s wearing a necklace made from a shell that looks like mistletoe branches.

  Kind of hard to find mistletoe growing in the middle of the ocean, so we find substitutes to excuse our constant need to kiss.

  Jordan dangles the necklace above our heads, and I pucker up, treading water with one hand, and loving the taste of my partner in forever.

  I love Jordan, and he loves me.

  We love, we fight, we prank, and we both wear our hearts on our bathing suits—sometimes off.

  Jordan is as real as they come. Yes, he did work for my horrid ex, who is still in hiding after my viral video inspired a new tradition called “Pranking in the New Year,” where a popular TV show counts down with the funniest prank videos.

  But he had an excuse.

  His father owed Stephen’s father a ton of money, and in exchange, Jordan had to work for Stephen and fix up his image.

  Jordan not only cleaned up Stephen’s messes, but he was the guy who set up all of Stephen’s romantic dates with me. He bought the gifts, ordered the flowers, arranged the trips, and even wrote the sweet notes and cards Stephen gave me for my birthday and other special occasions.

  As he freely admits, he fell in love with me while doing his job.

  When it was time to plan my wedding, Stephen assigned Jordan to help behind the scenes. He was the “advisor” I emailed to coordinate all the details, such as selecting china patterns for the gift registry, ordering the invitations, tasting the cake samples, deciding on the food, music, wine, and guest list.

  He was thoughtful, and he was sweet, sending me notes of encouragement, candy and small gifts, and he always answered my emails, reassuring me whenever I had doubts.