I dress quickly and Kane does the same. This time, he actually does lead me into the kitchen. There’s a double fridge, six burners, a stand-up freezer, and a portable island packed with pots and pans. He lifts me onto the island and settles himself between my legs, running one hand through his long hair.
He loosens his luscious locks from his ponytail. “E kala mai, I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so easy to pick up and move around.”
I snort. “That’s not something I’ve been accused of before.” I look down at the island that I’m using as a chair. “But this probably isn’t the most professional way to have an employee to boss conversation.”
“Mmmhmm…” he hums, rubbing his scratchy beard against my chin. “I’m not your boss. Consider yourself an independent contractor.”
“Still,” I protest. He shakes his head but helps me down. Meanwhile, I reach up to caress his beard. “I’ve always wondered what you’d look like without this—” Just then, a sense of 21st century dread floods over me. “Shit, my laptop!” I dropped it on the floor of the back room. Kane steps away to collect my precious hardware and sets it gently on the island. I power it up, making my way through the list of menu items I’ve brainstormed so far. I’ve decided to do a snack-food menu (or pupus, if you ask the locals) with a Hawaiian-fusion theme. He bends down to read my draft menu, but instead I start reading aloud.
“I’m thinking of a few different options, like pulled Kalua pork nachos, Lomi salmon bruschetta, teriyaki and pineapple beef bites, fried spam and cheese balls…” I take a deep breath before forging forwards. “Also some more substantial items, like grilled Mahi Mahi sliders, coconut shrimp tacos, mini poke pizzas, and maybe a Loco Moco but with veggie burgers and mushroom gravy? I don’t have anything vegetarian so far.”
Kane simply rubs his chin. I’m freaking out because I can’t read his face at all.
“It’s impressive,” he finally says. “The locals will love it, as will the tourists searching for a taste of Hawaii. Are you sure it’s not too much for you?”
My voice brims with excitement. “I can handle eight menu items.”
He steps closer and tips my chin back, swiping the rough skin of his thumb across my lips. He bends down for a long, slow kiss, making my toes curl into my flip-flops. I never would have guessed that the short-tempered, cantankerous Kane Keo could be so affectionate.
“Lose the Loco Moco—it’s too messy. Though I wouldn’t mind if you made it for breakfast tomorrow—that is, after I fuck you until the sun comes up.”
A shiver passes through me then. “How old are you Kane?”
“Thirty-one. Why?”
“I thought that men were supposed to slow down after thirty, you know, sexually.”
“You thought wrong.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, but my mind wanders to Dale and his exhaustive list of reasons why our love life fizzled out.
“Someone told me that once.”
“Well, he’s an idiot.” Kane’s deep voice rumbles, hearing the subtext in my comment. “I could be eighty, and I’d still want to take you on that little couch. Now get out of here—before I decide to take you again.” He pats my ass and points me towards the door.
I can only imagine how I must look upon emerging from the back room with my hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and crop-top askew. Lance is sitting at the bar. He raises his eyebrows at me, so I adjust my top and turn my attention back to the restaurant, spotting Adele on the last bar stool. She waves at me from her perch.
“There you are, dear. I’ve been looking for you!”
“How was your date with Tinder?” I ask, coming around the bar to claim the vacant seat beside my friend.
“Terrible, darling. The lesbian hunt is proving more difficult than I imagined.” Lance overhears and literally chokes on his beer.
“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He hurries away, as if his stool just caught fire.
“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m thinking of having a dinner party at my house on Saturday—just a few close friends. Are you free?”
A dinner party seems like the perfect opportunity to use my friends as guinea pigs, so I tell Adele about my menu for Salty’s.
“That’s a delightful idea! I’d love for you to cater, but you must let me pay you, both for the supplies and your time.”
“Yes to the supplies, if absolutely necessary, but definitely not for my time.”
I agree to give her a list of ingredients, and we plan to meet on Saturday morning. Adele will fetch me at my suite and I’ll spend my day prepping. I hop off the stool, already preparing to leave when she calls after me.
“And Darling?”
I turn around to face her. “Yes Adele?”
“I’m so glad that you let that lovely man inside of you.” Her voice is far too loud. My jaw drops, leaving me at a total loss for words.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been on this earth long enough to know what freshly fucked smells like, and you, my darling, absolutely reek of sex. Ta ta!” She sends me off with a wave.
I open and close my mouth as the words fail to come. She saves me by turning her attention to Kane, who has just appeared behind the bar. I’m surprised to see that he doesn’t look mortified at all; in fact, he winks at me. I rush from the bar with my face on fire, trying to occupy my mind with shopping lists and dinner menus and the fastest route to the grocery store.
Chapter 15
The next day, I borrow Kane’s jeep and head for the Costco in Kahului. It’s much busier than Paia. The line-ups and parking lots stress me out, making me realize how much I’ve already adapted to the lifestyle. I can’t imagine going back to how things were before, especially after this week. The next few days, I split my time between testing recipes in the small kitchen and spending evenings wrapped in Kane’s arms. He stays over most nights, but we barely talk. I realize after a while that I don’t know much about him. I begin sharing details of my life (my parents, my old job, and some details about my marriage that make him tense up). He listens intently, asks great questions, and never judges my past, but I find myself wishing he’d open up even more.
Saturday rolls around, and Adele arrives bright and early to collect me from the curb. One day soon, I’ll need to get a car, but I’d rather spend my money on the restaurant right now, and the escrow on our place in San Fran is killing me. I’m dressed in an old Bob Marley tank top and cutoff Levi’s, having made sure to send Kane home last night, because I don’t want to give Adele any more material. It’s only about a ten-minute drive. The birds are chirping and the morning sun is rising as we pull into her driveway. She punches a code into the speaker and the front gates open like a demigod spreading her legs. I actually gasp aloud as we roll down the driveway. I never would have expected it, but Adele lives a very comfortable life.
“Did I forget to mention that I’m fabulously rich?” She says with a tsk. “Close your mouth, darling—it’s just a house.”
Just a house is definitely an understatement; estate fits much better. Her property is complete with a sprawling green lawn and a manicured garden of hibiscus and heliconia. Adele tells me that the house lies on waterfront land with fifty yards of white sand beach. We pull up alongside her monster of a house with its plantation columns and triple car garage. I can do nothing to stop myself from gaping. We park and head up the front stairs, through the massive foyer, and onwards to the back of the house.
“How big is this place, Adele?”
“Oh, maybe six thousand square feet.” She leads me into a restaurant-grade kitchen complete with an entire wall of ovens and a refrigerator so big that I could probably rent it. “Hal came from a wealthy family. They owned sugar cane plantations. He actually spent his early years on the island, and that’s one of the reasons I decided to move here. In a way, it felt like I’d be keeping a piece of him with me.”
“That’s sweet.”
I smile, and Adele smiles right back. “It is, isn’t it
?”
The back wall of the house features a series of French doors, all hanging wide open in the breeze. The turquoise water is visible from every angle of the room, and a long chef’s table is set up on the lanai, with white-covered chairs and delicate silverware. Tall glass candlesticks and vases of Birds of Paradise dot the table, while a pristine looking plumeria flower rests on every setting.
“Oh Adele!” I walk outside to get a better look. “If I’d known it would be like this…” I trail off.
“Then what?” She raises an eyebrow.
“My food won’t stand up to this. It’s not fancy enough.”
“Psh, fancy is overrated. Flavor is everything.” She brushes off my comment with a wave of her hand. “Make yourself at home. If there’s anything you need, just text me. I’m off to the salon for some primping. Oh, and I’m bringing a date tonight. I call her Maui Maude. She’s sixty-four and recently divorced.”
“A younger woman—nice, Adele!”
She looks quite proud at the thought. “I imagine Kayla will come find you, that is, after she wakes up.”
“Kayla lives here?” I ask, feeling like an idiot for not knowing.
“In the Guest House.” She gestures towards the white sand beach. “At least for the time being. Ta ta, my darling.”
She breezes out of the kitchen and I get straight to work, setting the pork to low in one of the ovens while frying up the spam for cheese balls. About two hours into my prep, a sleepy-looking Kayla pads barefoot into the kitchen. She extracts a whole carton of orange juice from the fridge and hoists herself onto the counter.
“Morning,” she says, releasing a huge yawn.
“Don’t you mean afternoon?”
“I got up before 5am to catch a sick break. Then I went back to sleep.” She shrugs, and I notice she’s still in sleepwear, wearing boy-short black underwear and a white men’s tank top. Her tanned legs are almost a mile long. They slap against the cupboards as she swings them to and fro.
“So you and Keo, hey? I know you’re fucking him now, but this whole cooking-thing seems like too much effort for a man.” She gestures at the dirty bowls and cookware that I’ve scattered everywhere. I give her a sharp look, but she just laughs. “Adele might have let the shagging-gossip slip, plus you got pash rash on your neck.”
“I don’t know what that is. Besides this isn’t for him—it’s for me,” I argue, and it is for me. I’m so in my element cooking that it doesn’t even feel like work.
“He’s making money on this project and leading you around by the vagina in the meantime.”
“Trust me, Kayla, my vagina has nothing to do with this.” I stop stirring to stare at her. “Maybe that’s your own baggage talking?”
She looks away, taking another swing from the carton. “Maybe.” She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth. “But please tell me that you won’t serve all this delicious food to Kane Keo looking like a servant.”
I run a hand through my messy ponytail, taking inventory of my tank and shorts. “I actually hadn’t given it much thought. I did bring a sundress to change into, along with my flip-flops.”
Kayla rolls her eyes, hopping down from the counter. “You will not wear a boring old sundress to your big debut—I won’t allow it. Once you’re done here, give me a half hour for makeup and hair.”
“You can do makeup and hair?”
“I do a lot that you don’t know about.” She walks around the gigantic granite island, stealing a handful from my pile of sliced pineapple. “I have something in my closet that’s perfect for you.”
“Nothing too sexy,” I shout at her from behind, but all I hear is a trail of laughter as she disappears around the corner.
• • •
“No way. It’s too sexy,” I whine, surveying myself in Kayla’s bathroom mirror.
She nods her approval. “It’s off the charts.”
Kayla has managed to stuff me into a dove-gray body-con dress, complete with side cutouts and a deep v-neck showing far too much chest. We’re such different shapes; I have no idea how it even fits me, but she swears on her life that it looks good.
I skim my hands over my hips. “It’s tight.”
“It’s supposed to be, and the color is banging with your eyes. You look like a goddess.” She blows my hair out into soft, loose curls, finishing my makeup with smoky-gray eye shadow and pale pink lips.
“You are amazing at this.” I blink at myself in the mirror. She somehow managed to make my green eyes look huge.
“It’s a bit of a hobby of mine.” I don’t miss the pride in her voice. She looks effortless, of course, wearing a tight black romper with her auburn hair pulled into a sleek topknot.
“It’s too much though, right?” I ask.
“Look, you need to relax. You look smoking hot. Your scary but equally hot fukboi will be here soon, and the food smells delish. You did it girl—now it’s time to enjoy.”
When we get back to the kitchen, Adele is already home. She looks polished and put together, with her hair pulled into tight curls, a massive string of pearls, and dark red lips to match. She’s lounging on the lanai, flanked by two male waiters in tuxedos.
“Adele,” I say, exasperated. “I’m more than happy to serve the food.”
“Not looking like that, you’re not,” she snorts. “Besides, I always have extra help at my parties. It would be unusual if I didn’t.”
One of the waiters lights a few candles, their hurricane vases protecting them from the balmy breeze. The other escorts Kayla to her chair, just as the doorbell chimes. Pancho and his wife, a petite Japanese woman named Keiko, arrive with Lance and his date—a stunning blond. Lance gives me a hug right away.
“And just like that, I’m replaced,” I whisper. He laughs and gives me a wink.
An older woman with a brown pixie cut arrives next. I can only assume that this is Maui Maude. Adele greets her by kissing both cheeks, and the two fall into hushed conversation. Kane’s friend, Taylor, arrives alone, carrying wine and flowers for the host. He immediately takes the seat across from Kayla, and I don’t miss how his eyes linger on her face. I take the seat closest to the kitchen, so that I can run back and forth between courses. One of the waiters pops a bottle of champagne and fills each of our glasses for a toast.
Kane is the last to arrive and I notice right away his crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black dress pants. He looks mouthwateringly good and I jump to my feet when I see him, his eyes drinking me in from head to toe. His initial smile is soon swallowed by a frown, like one wave break collapsing into another, but I’m too nervous to worry about what’s eating him. I sit back down as he takes the empty chair beside me, slinging his arm over the backside of my own. Adele taps her champagne flute with her knife, whistling as if she’s thirty years younger.
“Friends, and lovers…” She shoots a look at Maude, who flushes. “Thank you all for joining me on this beautiful evening to celebrate our new friend Ashley’s business venture. We’re here for pleasure, of course, but there’s work involved, too. You’ve entered our test kitchen and Ashley is awaiting candid feedback on her debut dishes. Each of you has a card next to your plate—mark down what you like and don’t like. Don’t be shy or afraid of hurting her feelings. The greatest gift we can give each other is honesty, and real friendship means sharing the truth above all else. So cheers to you, my darlings, I am grateful for your friendship. Every one of you is like family to me. Mahalo.”
“Mahalo,” we say in unison, clinking glasses.
The waiters turn on the music and the conversation begins to flow to the tune of Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Once I see that everyone is settled, I steal away to ready the first dish of Kalua pork nachos. To elevate the presentation, I’ve deconstructed the dish on a white circular plate. I’m in the process of garnishing it with avocado crema when the waiter joins me in the kitchen. He’s cute with curly brown hair and big dimples, b
ut he also looks much younger than me.
“Are they ready to go, miss?” He grins as if we know each other from another lifetime. “I’m Noah.”
“Ashley.” I give him my hand, keeping my voice neutral, which he holds a tad longer than appropriate.
“You’re very talented, Ashley.”
“And you’re very forward, Noah.” A deep voice rumbles from behind me. I can feel Kane’s hard chest press against my back, and Noah’s eyes widen when they meet his.
“I’m sorry…I-I didn’t realize…” He stutters. “I’m just here to serve the food and keep an eye on the guests.”
Kane wraps one thick arm around my waist. “Do me a favor, Noah, and keep both of your eyes off this guest.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, pulling his hand away from mine.
“The plates are ready to go, Noah,” I mutter. “Thank you.” I try to meet his eyes, but he won’t even look in my direction—poor Noah. He loads his arms with appetizer plates and scurries from the room. I whirl around and whack Kane in his big, stupid, immoveable chest. “What the hell was that?”
“What the hell is this dress?” He snaps back.
“It’s Kayla’s, as a matter of fact, and I think I look damn good.” I’m positively scathing from his territorial caveman B.S., and I make no effort to hide it.
“Make no mistake, Ashley, you look good. Good enough to be on the menu yourself.” His thumbs caress the bare skin of my waist, right where the cutouts are placed. He yanks me against him until I feel the hardness through his dress pants.
“Kane!” I squeal. “You can’t go outside like that!”
“And whose fault is that?” He says, but there’s no real menace in his tone. “Just tell me—is the dress to tease me alone, or is it for Noah and all the other eyes in the room?” He threads his fingers through my loose curls and gives them a little tug. I gasp from the sensation of pleasure mixed with pain.
“For you alone,” I whisper.
“Good answer,” he says, covering my mouth with a kiss so intense that the space between my thighs dampens.
Aloha in Love Page 12