Chapter 4
Four
March 1, early morning
Beep, beep, be-ep, be-ep.
The sound of a horn wakes me, and I kick off the covers. I lie on my back, staring at the palm-leaf–bladed ceiling fan turning lazily in the cool morning air. My room is still somewhat dark, but the sky is beginning to lighten.
I’m feeling lighter too.
Beep, beep, be-ep, be-ep.
I sit up and hurriedly leave the bed, rushing to the window and peeking through the blinds. Expecting to see a motorbike and wondering how I’d fit on it, I’m relieved to see Jack in a Jeep with no top. He starts another chorus of the beeping song before coming to the door and knocking with the same beat.
“I hope you didn’t wake the neighbors!” I say after unlocking and opening the front door of the villa. “But come on in; I’m not ready yet.”
I race to the bathroom, where I pull my hair into a loose bun and change into my red two-piece and a sundress. The Isa in the mirror grins and gives me two thumbs-up when I give myself a once-over. I guess I do care how I look to some people. I shrug. Today will be fun.
Jack’s eyes are bright and cheerful as he greets me when I emerge from the bedroom, my beach bag in hand. “Hi, gorgeous!” My blood rushes to my cheeks.
He hugs me with his strong arms, and we sway back and forth a little. “Hi.”
“You ready to go?”
“I’m famished.”
“You’re in for a treat then,” he says, rubbing his stomach. The movement reminds me of the tight abs I touched and kissed last night, and my hunger for food is joined by a new hunger.
As we near the Jeep, I begin to wonder whether the motorbike might’ve been a better option. Along with being topless, the dull golden-painted vehicle lacks doors. Its windshield is cracked, and the rear bumper is held on with duct tape.
Jack leads me to the passenger side and extends a hand to help me up. “Hop in, we’re going to breakfast.”
“Are you sure this is safe to drive?” I shout to Jack as he jogs around to the driver’s side. He hops in and turns the ignition in one smooth move, the engine springing to a loud and boisterous life. The Jeep doesn’t have a muffler either.
I tap Jack on the arm, his firm bicep feeling good underneath my fingers. Once I have his attention, I mime putting on a seat belt. Jack’s forehead furrows for a moment, then it relaxes and he leans over me. As Jack fishes between the door frame and the edge of my seat, I breathe deeply, inhaling the chemical coconut smell of freshly applied sunscreen. At least he’s being safe with his skin, if not the rest of him.
He pulls back, the belt caught in one hand. He tilts his head as if to kiss me, and we hold there, our eyes silently conversing, but then the engine hiccups and he retreats and snaps the belt into the buckle. He leans in once again, but this time only near my ear, and points up to the bar running above us. “This is the oh shit handle,” he shouts, straining to be heard above the engine. “Grab hold of this if you want.”
I want. A frisson of awareness had curled in my belly when Jack leaned over me, and our night together flashed through my mind.. No matter what he ate, Ben’s breath always smelled like onions. After last night’s cathartic journaling, I’m ready for something fresh and new. Something like Jack and the rum and orange he tasted of the other night.
As we wind along the island roads, I flinch every time a vehicle approaches, certain we’re set for a collision because we’re on the wrong side of the road. But then they pass without trouble because they’re on the right side of the road. The literal right.
Sitting on the left side of the vehicle but not having a steering wheel in front of me has me off-kilter. I’m glad Jack showed me the oh shit handle. I hold on tightly, feeling more secure than if I were just wearing my seat belt. But I don’t know whether the belt will do any good if the Jeep falls apart on the road. Jack talks, and all I can do is nod. I can’t hear him over the noise. This feels very dangerous.
I gasp for air when we pull up to the traffic circle in front of the Westin. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath nearly the entire trip. Luckily, it wasn’t a long drive.
“How are you today, Mr. Jack?” the valet shouts over the noise of the idling engine.
I’m a little shocked that a worker from a high-end hotel knows Jack, as he doesn’t strike me as someone who could afford a place like this on a regular basis. Maybe Jack is a former staff member and the two men used to work together? But then, why would he use “Mister”?
“I’m doing great, Alfie. How are you and your wife doing?” Jack asks as he jumps out of the death trap and comes over to help me out. I’m grateful for his steadiness as I exit the Jeep on shaking legs.
“They are doing great, thank you.” Alfie grins as he climbs in behind the wheel. “Your Jeep is in good hands, Mr. Jack.”
“I know it is, Alfie.” Jack has his arm around me now, and he leans across me and the seat to hand Alfie some cash. He says something more, but I can’t make it out over the noise from the obnoxious engine.
Alfie pulls away and Jack steps back but doesn’t let me go. I’m enjoying being tucked into his side. “He’s taking his life in his own hands, don’t you think?” I ask with a nervous laugh. Even though the Jeep is out of sight, I can still hear it.
“He’ll be fine,” Jack says as he takes my hand and leads me toward the resort’s entrance. “He’s a professional, and it’s not the first time he’s driven Jolene.”
“Jolene? You named that sad excuse of a vehicle Jolene?” I bite my lip and shrink inside, ashamed of having blurted out my opinion. But Jack just chuckles and swings our hands between us as we near the door.
“Hey, don’t offend my lady. She’s seen some hard times, but she’s dependable and gets me where I need to go. And as to the name, well, Jolene of the song had auburn hair, and I figure that’s a bit like my Jolene’s color.”
“Maybe if you squinted?” I’m feeling bolder now; maybe Jack isn’t upset by negative opinions.
He leads me into the hotel and I cringe, awed and embarrassed by the luxury. “I’m a little underdressed for this place,” I point out.
“Nonsense. You look fantastic! And besides, this place has the best waffles on the island.”
The few people in the atrium are staring at us, and my skin is as red as my bathing suit. I wish I had worn better clothing for breakfast. I’m sure Jolene’s lack of muffler got everyone’s attention, and now they see we’re dressed in clothes we could have bought at the secondhand store. Our hair is windblown and wild, in sharp contrast to the well-dressed people preparing to start their day. They seem to have spent a lot of money on designer everything, and they aren’t afraid to flaunt it, even at breakfast.
Jack guides me through the atrium and over to Snorkels, a little restaurant on the other side of the hotel, that sits close to the water.
“Oh, I get it,” I say as my stomach sinks. “When you invited me to go snorkeling, you meant ‘go to Snorkels’.”
I pluck at my sundress, feeling like the country cousin I am among all the extravagance. It’s Carol Cushing all over again. The lightness from my journaling revelations has fled, leaving me hungry, weary, and humiliated.
Jack throws his head back and laughs, and if I wasn’t feeling so miserable, I would’ve enjoyed watching his expression. He stops abruptly and turns serious when he notices I’m not laughing with him.
“Oh, I thought you made a joke,” he says. He looks around, then spies a bench in front of an open window and leads me there. Once seated, he pulls me so I’m standing in front of him, his hands clasping mine. “You heard right last night.” Jack squeezes my hands. “I invited you to go snorkeling, and after we eat some of the best waffles in the world, we will meet my friends at the dock. It just so happens that the best waffles are prepared by the chefs here at Snorkels.” He releases a hand and reaches up to wipe my cheek, and I realize my eyes are full of tears. “Are you OK, Isa Misha?”
I can’t help chuckling, if a bit soberly. “Not my middle name.” I sniffle, and Jack pats his hip.
“Aw, man. I’m wearing my swim trunks, and they don’t have pockets. I don’t have any tissues.” He shrugs then lifts the hem of his T-shirt. “Here, you can wipe your nose on this.”
My knees wobble, and I plop down beside him on the bench. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be fine.”
My head is awhirl with all kinds of thoughts. Who offers their shirt to a woman they just met for her to wipe her snot on? Jack is either the sweetest man or the most cunning one. Right now, he feels like the biggest, most adorable puppy.
And then my blood runs cold. If Jack doesn’t have pockets, where’s his wallet? Who’s paying for breakfast?
I clear my throat and try to sound my most mature and stern. “Jack, who’s paying for breakfast?”
“Why I am, darlin’.” He flashes another of his wide grins at me. “Don’t you worry about it.”
“But you’re not carrying a wallet.”
“Like I said, you don’t need to worry. I have an account here too.” He stands up and holds out a hand, eyebrow quirked as if questioning whether I’ll trust him. He wiggles his fingers and backs away slowly. “You know you want waffles,” he sing-songs. “Waffles with mango and pineapple and chocolate and pecans and fried chicken—whatever you’d like. And all without costing you a penny.”
Yes, but will it cost me my heart?
I do what I do best and shove that thought aside and jump up. “Lead the way. Pocketed pastry is calling my name!”
“Mr. Jack! Good to see you again,” says the woman at the host stand just inside Snorkels.
“Hi, Amelia. How are ya this morning?” Jack grins at Amelia and wraps his arm around my waist. “A table for two, please. This lovely lady is joining me for breakfast.”
“Usual table?”
“Absolutely! I need to show off your waffles to my pretty friend.” Jack tightens his hold momentarily, as though I need encouragement.
Ben used to hold me like this when we were in public, but he used it as a method of control. He’d pinch the skin at my waist where no one could see. To other people, we looked like a loving couple who was joined at the hip; they didn’t know that my hips invariably bore bruises from being shoved into the sharp corners of our kitchen table. Recalling that bone-deep ache, I rub my hip, making a wish that the memories stay away for the day—or at least until I buy a journal.
Fake it ’til you make it, so I arrange my face into a pleasant expression and join Jack in following Amelia to a table on the edge of the deck. It’s just a step down to the sand and a few yards to the water. Over Jack’s shoulder, I have a view of a beautiful pool with a waterfall and an island with tall palm trees that provide nice shade for swimmers.
Jack waves away the menus as Amelia says, “It’s very nice to see you again. How long are you in town for?” He really must be a regular.
“I’m in between gigs right now. Should be here for while.” Jack shouldn’t be treating me to an expensive meal when he doesn’t even have a job.
“That is wonderful. Glad to have you back on the island. Enjoy your breakfast.” Amelia leaves us while Jack pulls out a chair for me and then takes his own seat.
“Your mom taught you some manners.” Jack’s politeness and care is refreshing.
“My dad always said nothing says ‘I like you’ like good manners.” He smiles.
I feel a pang, knowing my boys aren’t being taught authentic, caring manners. Ben poured on the charm until he had me hooked, and when it was too late, I saw the real man. Jack seems like the real deal, but I don’t trust myself.
“Do you know everyone on this island? They all seem to know you.”
He shrugs. “It’s a small island. Everyone knows each other. I’ve lived here off and on for a while, and it’s my home, even when I’m back in Tennessee. I love the people here. I love the community.”
“I love the island, but I feel out of place here, in the Westin. I’m really not dressed to be here. I’m a mess.”
“You are beautiful, and this is a beach. You are not out of place.” His bright blue eyes sparkle with warmth as he compliments me. A gentle breeze off the ocean tousles his sun-bleached hair as he reaches for my hand.
His smile and his warm grasp make me feel… special. Like I’m the only person in the restaurant. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before, and I like it. A lot.
Jack squeezes my hand gently. “The mango mimosas are to die for. Would ya like one?”
I accede, and Jack holds up two fingers to a man in a Snorkels polo who nods and heads to the bar.
“You didn’t tell him your order.”
“I’m a man of habit. They have good food, so I come here a lot.” I suppose what he saves in car payments he can spend on dining out. “And I always start breakfast with a mango mimosa.”
Our conversation lulls as I watch the bathers in the pool. Then my eye catches on a large iguana, about four or five feet long, crawling under a row of perfectly arranged chaises along the edge of the pool. When it reaches someone’s bag, the lizard tips it over and rips everything out. How destructive!
Then from the top of one of the palm trees on the pool’s island, another iguana jumps. It lands in the pool with a big splash, right behind a woman who’s talking with a friend.
She whirls around as quickly as you can in waist-high water and lets out a bloodcurdling scream. Everyone at the pool or seated on our deck turns to see what’s happening. It sounds like someone is being murdered.
Now people are trying to get out of the pool as fast as they can. And there it is. The large iguana that just belly flopped into the pool swims to the edge, pulls itself onto the apron, and leisurely slinks off into the meticulous green landscape.
“Did that just happen?” I ask Jack. I can’t believe what I saw.
“Yeah, we have some iguanas here,” he says. He seems amused by what just happened in the pool. “They’re taking over the island in some aspects. They’re opportunists when they’re hungry.”
“It kind of feels like Jurassic Park.” Now I’m a little freaked out. “If I were in that pool and an iguana jumped in, I would’ve passed out.” I don’t let myself think of what would happen next.
“Nah, I wouldn’t let you drown.”
A flash of memory—Ben and Luke disappearing beneath the waves—and I shake my head, refusing to dwell.
“Gee, thanks. I don’t like the idea of dinosaurs running around St. John while I’m here.”
“You’ll get used to them. They’re like big bunny rabbits.” Jack laughs. “They’ll run from you unless they’re cornered.”
“Cornered? I have no intention of cornering them.”
“Well, just check your toilet. If one finds its way in there, it might feel cornered when ya go to use it.”
The server sets two tall footed glasses in front of us.
“Thank you, Winston. How are you and your family?”
“We are doing wonderfully, Mr. Jack. Your usual?”
“Yes, sir, and for the lady too.”
Winston nods and heads back to the bar, and Jack turns his smile toward me and lifts up his glass.
“To mangos, waffles, and us.” I raise my glass and tap Jack’s, then take a sip of my mango mimosa. The sweet-tart flavor of the blended fruit and the champagne bubbles dance across my tongue before tickling my nose, causing me to squinch to keep from sneezing. But the slight discomfort is worth it. This drink is delicious. I want to savor it, so I force myself to set my glass down.
As I do, Winston sets a steaming plate in front of each of us. My breakfast is a feast for the eyes as well as my stomach. Two golden-toasted waffles are overlapped in the middle of my plate. An assortment of fresh tropical fruit diced in tiny cubes has been arranged across the pastries, and whipped cream has begun to melt into the crispy crannies.
I fork up a bite of waffle, fruit, and cream, and my eyes close as I savor the contrasts—warm waffle and cool cream, the burst of flavor as firm pineapple and fluffy pastry give way between my teeth. This is the best thing I’ve eaten in months. Probably years.
When I look up, Jack’s focused on me. His eyes are narrowed in an expression I haven’t seen in a very long time.
“I take it you like it?” he asks, his voice a low growl.
I squirm as I nod. The rising sun is beginning to warm my shoulders, but it can’t compare to the heat of Jack’s gaze.
“This is really great,” I stammer, then take another bite. If my mouth is full, I can’t say anything else.
“See, I told ya. These waffles are amazing, but not as amazing as you.”
I lay my fork on the plate and give Jack my full attention. “Please stop with the flattery.” I’m not used to people complimenting me; it makes me uncomfortable.
In a blink, Jack turns serious. “You must know you’re great stuff, Isa. Don’t let anyone tell ya different. Besides, I wouldn’t say these things if I didn’t mean them.” He holds my stare, and I make myself resist the urge to look away. “But you’ve made a boundary clear, and I always respect boundaries. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Jack pushes himself away from the table and stands up. “I’ll be right back. Need to use the restroom.” He walks into the hotel, and if his shoulders aren’t as straight and square as usual, well, the many diners watching him won’t know the difference.
Pleased that Jack’s promised to respect my wishes—how rare that is makes me want to sob, but the view is too nice—I enjoy my breakfast. I’ve just taken another sip of the mimosa when I hear my name.
“Isa?” I turn toward the voice and encounter a face reminiscent of one I haven’t seen in ten years. “Isa? That is you!” A perfectly dressed woman with perfect hair and perfect makeup is approaching from a nearby table.
I get a closer look and… “Suzanne? Hi! I haven’t seen you since graduation. Of all the places to run into someone! How funny to see you here. How have you been? You haven’t changed a bit.” I slam my mouth shut to hold back more word vomit and paste on a smile to show that I’m happy to see someone who’s a reminder of my awkward past, but I’m sure she sees right through it to my personal failings.
“I just got married!” The statement ends on a tremolo almost like the one given by gray kingbirds plentiful on the island. Suzanne shoves her hand in front of my face so I can see her wedding band and the huge diamond on her engagement ring. “My husband and I are on our honeymoon.” Wow, that’s a rock and yes, this well-to-do woman has reverted to her cheerleading days and is practically jumping up and down.
Suzanne was annoying in high school. She was loud and boisterous, not letting me know a moment’s peace to cope with the issues in my life. But I grudgingly found that her perpetual cheerleader mode and unrelenting passion and spirit strangely endearing. Her smile was utterly infectious. She might be dressing much better now, but I can already tell she hasn’t changed very much.
“Congratulations,” I say, and leave it at that. I don’t want to address marriage.
“Are you on vacation? Are you here with your husband?” She cranes her neck around, as if to find him. Seeing none, she turns back to me, and I endure her scrutiny, immediately uncomfortable. She looks so successful and well put together and I’m not, especially after my failed marriage.
“No. Actually…” And just as I was going to make something up because my truth would make her ego even bigger, Jack appears behind me and kisses me on the top of my head before resuming his seat.
“Sorry for taking so long, Isa,” Jack says. He reaches across the table and takes my hand and, giving it a little squeeze as though telling me to play along. “I see you met a friend.”
I’m stunned, but not as shocked as Suzanne appears to be. Jack extends his other hand to shake hers, but she stares back, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, the stillest I’ve ever seen her.
Excuse me. My ire rises. Sure, we aren’t dressed as fancy as Suzanne is, but she doesn’t have to be so surprised a handsome man like Jack has taken me out for breakfast.
“Isa, this is your man?” Suzanne hisses the words at me, still goggling at Jack. “Do you know who this is? This is Jack Kendall. You’re with Jack. Freaking. Kendall.”
What?! It’s now my turn to be shocked, and I face Jack full on.
The unassuming beach bum I’ve been chatting with at the bar couldn’t possibly be who Suzanne says he is. But as I study Jack's tanned features more closely, imagining him in a plaid shirt, Western hat, a pair of tight-fighting Wranglers, and a guitar slung over one shoulder, I’m convinced. Jack is Jack Kendall— the Jack Kendall—who I hear on the radio and who’s sold out shows at the Grand Ole Opry and arenas around the globe.
Jack has dropped his hand back to the table and settled back in his chair. He’s wearing an impersonal smile as he looks at Suzanne. “Nice to meet you, uh…?”
“Suzanne,” I fill in the blank.
“Nice to meet you, Suzanne,” Jack says cordially and looks at me, a real smile on his face this time.
“You two are visiting the island together?”
Jack answers for me. “Yes, we are.” He raises my hand to his mouth, and he brushes his lips over my knuckles. I swoon—or I would if I were the swooning type. My heart beats faster, although I’m unsure whether it’s because of the intimate contact with a man or that country music star Jack Freaking Kendall has kissed me twice.
“Can I get a picture with you? You know, for my Instagram?” Suzanne begs, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her shorts.
“Sure, that won’t be a problem.” As Jack stands, he guides me up to stand next to him. Suzanne grimaces a bit, apparently displeased she has to share her picture with me. Jack motions to Winston, who comes over and accepts the phone from Suzanne.
We stand there, our backs to the beach. Jack’s in the middle, his arm around my waist, and Suzanne on his other side. She puts her hand on his shoulder, but he angles himself toward me and leans in to kiss my cheek—my third today, not that I’m counting— as we hear the digital shutter click. Winston returns the phone and we look at it: Two shabby yet happy people and a perfectly coiffed and attired sourpuss.
“We look so cute, Isa,” Jack says.
“Thank you, Jack.” Suzanne’s voice is cool. “My husband is back from his call; I’m going to go join him. Nice seeing you again, Isa. Very nice to meet you, Jack.”
“Always happy to meet my fans.” Jack pulls me close so he can wrap both arms around me. He rests his chin on my head.
“Wow, that was fun,” he says with a low voice only I can hear. “Good job.”
“Thank you for that.” Suzanne has sat down at a table with an older man who looks like he’s ready for a round of golf. Hmm. Could it be that we might have something in common? We’re both interested in older men.
The thought makes me stiffen, and Jack drops his arms from around my body. We return to our chairs, Jack holding mine for me again. He sits down and reaches for my hand again to keep the charade going.
“I saw her making you squirm, and I didn’t like that.” He’s keeping his expression pleasant, but his voice is stern. I’ve noticed he drops the smooth Southern drawl when he’s serious. “You looked uncomfortable. Figured we could really turn the tables on her.”
“Thank you. Suzanne has always been everything I’m not.”
“I’d contradict you, but someone told me to stop complimenting her.”
I groan. “I said to stop flattering me! Sincere compliments are different.” Hearing myself flirt with Jack Freaking Kendall is surreal. In what world is this happening?
“By the way, you’re Jack Kendall?”
“You didn’t know that? I thought Sarah would have told you.”
“No, I had no idea,” I say, my mind buzzing.
A shadow falls over our table and I brace myself for another fan, but it’s Winston. “Can I get you anything more?”
“I think we’re good. Thank you,” Jack says. “Everything was excellent as usual.”
Winston smiles, and I snag the last bite of waffle with my fork as he clears our empty plates.
“They clear pretty quickly. They don’t want uneaten food left on the table,” Jack says.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Iguanas will finish what’s left.” Jack looks up into the trees, pretending to be worried. “Drinks too.”
“Not what I want to hear.” I look up too, but see nothing more than greenery. “Cut it out.”
Jack is laughing at me now. “I’m just having some fun.”
“As long as you don’t actually see more iguanas.” I shudder. I like the teasing, but not the iguanas.
“No, seriously, the iguanas will rob the tables. And, if there are flowers on the table, they’ll eat those too.”
“Wonderful.” I can only imagine what else they do. “I’ll have nightmares about them tonight.”
“If you do, call me.” Jack winks. “Ringo and I’ll come right over.”
I cock my head. “Who’s Ringo? Your drummer?”
“He’s my pup.”
“So if I had a nightmare that I was getting attacked by iguanas, you and Ringo would come over?”
“Absolutely!” Jack nods emphatically.
I smile at him. I think I would like that.