Chapter 5
5
ALEXA
The Keiki Swim Class provides essential water safety skills in a structured yet engaging environment...
I pause in my note-taking to watch a small child try to drink pool water while his mom checks Instagram.
Though parental supervision levels may vary.
This is not how I usually spend my mornings in luxury resorts. Normally, I'd be at the adult pool right now, working on my tan while critiquing overpriced cocktails and snapping carefully choreographed photos. Instead, I'm watching desperate swim instructors trying to keep their students from drowning, all because the universe is getting a giant kick out of mocking my sorry ass.
And Jonas Knight in board shorts, the best thing I've seen since Santorini, is not making up for anything.
Really.
"Miss Minty," Lukas waves from the pool, splashing everyone in a ten-foot radius. "Watch me put my face under."
"Inside voice," Jonas reminds him, standing over the edge of the pool ready to dive in if one of the instructors slacks. And honestly, how dare he make basic parenting look that good? It should be impossible to be sexy while enforcing rules, but he manages it. Must be those NHL-worthy thighs. The ones I'm not staring at.
Not at all.
"Quite the splash zone you've got there," I comment.
"WATER you gonna do about it?" He grins, and I absolutely do not notice how his wet hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck.
"Did you just... was that a water pun?"
"WHALE, maybe."
"That's terrible."
"I SEA what you did there."
"Please stop."
"What's the matter? Feeling a bit TIDE down by all these puns?"
I try to glare, but he's laughing now, and it's infectious. "I see where your kids get their sense of humor."
"Bold of you to assume I have any sense at all." Lesson over, he helps Jace climb onto his shoulders, muscles flexing in ways that should be illegal in public. "Most days I'm just trying to keep my head above water."
"Speaking of water..." I nod toward Lukas, who's attempting to teach another kid how to put his face in the water by holding his head down.
"Lukas! Let him go!”
"He’s learning, Dad," Lukas announces proudly.
"Come over here, now,” Jonas says, nervously looking around for the pissed-off parent of Lukas’s student.
I hide my laugh behind my notebook. "Good control, Hockey Dad."
"Hey, I'm learning." He holds a squirmy, slippery, wet kid in each arm, a testament to his brute strength.
"You should have seen me when they were younger,” he continues. “What a disaster. I’ve made every rookie move there is, even when I should have been past the rookie phase."
"No."
"Oh yeah. And that's not even my worst parent story. Ever try to explain to airport security why your toddler's stuffed animal is beeping?"
"Do I want to know?"
"Jace had hidden my phone in it. Again. She goes through phases where she likes to make everyday objects more 'exciting.'"
"That's one word for it."
"Last month she decided the washing machine needed decoration. With maple syrup."
I shouldn't laugh. It's not professional to laugh. But his dry delivery combined with Jace's proud expression is too much.
"They're basically tiny drunk people," I say before I can stop myself. "All the mess, none of the coordination."
Instead of being offended, he actually snorts. "That... explains so much. The random emotional outbursts, the inability to walk straight, the weird food choices..."
"The public nudity attempts..."
"The crying about completely normal things..."
"The sudden need to tell strangers their life story..."
We're both laughing now, drawing curious looks from the mom squad in the corner.
"I can't believe you just compared my children to drunk people," he manages, but he's grinning.
"Hey, you agreed."
"Because it's accurate. Last week Lukas tried to convince me that pants were optional for grocery shopping."
"And?"
"And we compromised on shorts because that’s what the parenting books call 'choosing my battles.'"
"There are books for this sort of thing?"
"So many books." He shifts Jace to his shoulder with practiced ease. "None of which prepared me for finding my phone in the freezer. Or explaining why we can't adopt the resort's volcano. Or why eating sand is not, in fact, how you become a mermaid."
"But Daddy," Jace pipes up, "the sand lady said?—"
"The sand lady was trying to sell us shell necklaces, Jace. Pretty sure she's not a marine biologist."
I watch him handle the inevitable follow-up questions about marine biology with patient humor, and something warm knots up in my chest. It should not be this attractive to watch someone parent. It should definitely not be this attractive to watch someone make dad jokes while teaching water safety.
And yet.
"You're staring," he says.
"I'm observing. For the article."
"Very professional."
"Always."
"DAD," Lukas interrupts our moment with impeccable kid timing. "Show Miss Minty your dive. The cool one."
Before I can pretend to be fascinated by my notebook, Jonas sets both kids down, walks to the edge of the pool, and executes a perfect dive that does wonderful, terrible things to those board shorts.
"Show off," I accuse when he surfaces.
"Can't help it." He pushes wet hair back in a way that's completely unfair and leans toward me over the edge of the pool. "I'm very professional about my sports."
"Is that what that was? A sport?"
"Among other things," he says.
"Very professional things?"
"Of course." But his eyes say something else entirely. Something that makes me want to be very unprofessional.
"Miss Minty." Jace demands attention with the authority of a tiny CEO. "I’m floating."
Jonas turns to support her with one hand, teaching her to trust the water, and the pride in his expression does something warm and dangerous to my chest.
How dare he make dad-mode look sexy. How dare he be good with kids and good-looking and good in general. How dare he make me question every rule I've ever made about avoiding men with responsibilities.
"You should join us," he says. "For your story. Get a participant's perspective."
"I'm good here. Being professional. Staying dry. That sort of thing."
"Always so professional." His smile suggests he sees right through me. "Even while comparing my children to drunk people."
"That was a scientific observation."
"Very scientific. Like your observations about my diving?"
I feel myself blush. "That's different."
"How?"
"That was... athletic analysis."
His chuckle echoes across the water, where he boosts Lukas up on one foot and catapults him into the air. The little guy lands with a huge splash. "Is that what we're calling it? Athletic analysis?" Jonas asks.
No, I think as his attention returns to his kids, that's not what we're calling it. But I'm not ready to call it anything else yet.
The resort's family activities program provides numerous opportunities for parent-child bonding...
No one is going to read this shit.
I pause, watching Jonas guide Lukas through floating exercises. His hands are steady under his son's back, voice gentle as he encourages him. "That's it, buddy. Just trust the water."
Through skilled instruction and careful supervision...
Boring.
"Dad, I'm doing it. Let go now." Lukas's face lights up as he floats unassisted for the first time. Jonas's smile brings tears to my eyes.
Almost.
The program focuses on building confidence while...
While what ? While making me question everything I thought I knew about family vacations? While showing me what involved parenting looks like? While making me remember...
"You okay?" Jonas's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You went somewhere for a minute there."
"Just taking notes." I gesture with my pen, the shield I'm desperately hiding behind. "Very thorough notes."
"About pool safety? Or about how good I look teaching it?"
He did not just say that.
"You're not as charming as you think you are," I say with a roll of my eyes.
Lukas pipes up, helpful as always. "Gamma says he's the most charming boy in the whole NHL."
"Gamma's biased," Jonas tells him. "And we're focusing on floating here, right?"
I watch them return to their lesson, and try to focus on my own work instead how nice it must be to have a parent who literally has your back. But haunting me, as persistent as the Hawaiian sunshine, is my own childhood memory.
"Daddy, watch me swim."
"Not now, princess. Daddy's on a call."
Always on a call. Always too busy. Always...
"Miss Minty." Jace's voice pulls me back to present. " I'm a mermaid."
She's dog-paddling in a circle, water wings keeping her afloat while Jonas hovers nearby, attention laser-focused on both kids. Doesn't glance at his watch or check his phone, not that he could in the water, anyway. Doesn't do anything except be fully present in this moment with his kids.
The program encourages active parent participation...
Ugh .
"What a mermaid you are," Jonas tells her with complete sincerity. "Show Miss Minty your special song."
What follows is a wet rendition of a song I’ve never heard but which I am guessing is somehow tied into the mermaid vibe. Jace adds her version of splash choreography, and Jonas follows along with the few words he seems to know, oblivious to several moms’ open-mouthed stares.
Family activities include...
Include what ? Include fathers who make time? Who seem to enjoy their kids? Who pull off the super-dad act I completely missed out on?
Must be nice.
"Your turn," Lukas announces, waving me into the pool. "Dad can teach you too."
I bet that man could teach me a thing or two.
Jesus. Get a grip, girl.
"Oh, I already know how to float?—"
"He's a good teacher," Jace adds. "He teaches me to float, too."
"A work in progress," Jonas laughs, glancing my way. "Miss Minty probably already knows how to swim, guys."
"But she needs to practice, Dad." Lukas insists. "For her 'search."
"Research," I correct, but my voice sounds strange even to me.
Jonas must hear it too, because his next words are gentler. "Everything okay over there? You hydrating?" He points up at the glaring sun.
"Fine. Just..." I gesture at my notebook. "Working."
"Your pen hasn’t moved in ten minutes."
"I'm being observant."
"You're being avoidant."
Damn. I look up sharply, but there's no judgment in his face.
Talk about cutting to the chase.
"I'm being professional ," I correct. Ugh. Why am I defending myself? What do I care what this guy thinks?
"Be both," he says, adjusting Jace’s water wings while maintaining eye contact with me. "Professional and personal. They're not mutually exclusive."
Would it be wrong to drown the father of two small children?
"Says the man who literally plays games for a living."
"Says the woman who's trying very hard not to enjoy herself right now in this incredible tropical paradise."
"I'm working."
"Mmmm hmmm." He says, shaking his head.
Irritation runs up my spine and I take a deep breath to chase it away. But seriously? I barely know this man and he’s giving me shit.
Just because he’s buying me a new—and expensive—laptop does not mean he can say whatever the hell he wants to me.
"Behind your professional notebook, something made you look sad a minute ago."
For fuck’s sake. Is he a mind-reader?
"I didn't?—"
"Dad's good at seeing sad things," Lukas informs me. "He knows when we miss Mommy."
Oh.
Oh.
The resort's activities program…
My scribbled words trail off as Jonas continues teaching his kids, his attention divided perfectly between them. Never making either feel less important. Never making them compete for his time.
Never making them feel like an interruption.
"You know what I think?" He says it casually, like he's not trying to get under my skin. "I think sometimes we hold onto old ideas so tightly, we don't leave room for new ones."
"So philosophical for a swimming lesson."
"So avoidant for a professional observation." But he's smiling as he says it, and suddenly I'm smiling too, and when did this stop feeling like the world’s worst assignment and start feeling… enjoyable?
He glances my way. “I said that for my benefit. No one else’s.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
"Miss Minty." Jace splashes. "I can dive."
She scrambles up onto the side of the pool and leans forward, her arms pointed straight over her head. What follows is less a dive and more a controlled fall-slash-belly flop but Jonas praises her like she's Olympic-bound.
Family activities provide opportunities for...
For joy , I consider? For connection? For the kind of moments I always assumed were staged for resort brochures?
"Still being professional?" Jonas calls.
I watch his kids show off their new skills, their father's attention never wavering, his patience never running out, and something shifts in me.
"I'm being thorough," I say finally. "Very thorough research."
His smile suggests he thinks I might be falling for his act.
He’s wrong.
Pretty much.
"Tell us the princess volcano story again," Jace demands as she attempts to dry herself off with a resort towel that’s twice her size.
I should say no. I should return to my room and get my damn work done. I do not need to observe any more “family activities.” I’ve gotten the gist of what they’re all about, it’s not rocket science. Give the kids something to do. Give the parents alcohol. Everybody’s happy.
And Hale Olu’olu is nice. It really is. But it’s pretty much like the fifty other resorts I’ve been to, aside from being overrun with kids, and I could do this blog write-up in my sleep.
I should maintain professional distance. Should absolutely not be sitting here making up silly Hawaiian legends just to see two tiny faces light up with wonder.
Instead, I hear myself say, "Did you know there's another story about a brave princess who lived right here?"
Both kids scoot closer, cocooned in their beach towels. Jonas settles behind them on his own lounge chair, and I definitely don't notice how good he looks drying in the sun, with his hair slicked back off his perfect forehead.
Nope. No notice at all.
"Was she pretty?" Jace asks, because obviously that's the most important detail to a three-year-old obsessed with princesses.
"Beautiful, yes, of course. But more importantly, she was brave. She used to swim with the sea turtles and dance with the waves."
I have no idea where this is coming from. It’s like something has taken over my brain. Me, making up some kind of fairy tale?
It’s a first.
"Like me." Lukas demonstrates his version of wave dancing, tripping over his towel in the process but bouncing right back to his feet.
"Yup. And you know what else?" I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper. "She could talk to volcanos."
"Really?" Jace's eyes go wide.
"Yes, and she had a special secret. She knew every volcano had a heart made of magic. And when she listened, she could hear them singing."
I should not be making this shit up. After all, I’m the kind of person who thinks parents who lie to their kids about Santa Clause are awful. And now I’m making up some craziness about a princess volcano thing?
"What did they sing?" Lukas breathes.
I don’t miss a beat because now I am apparently just another liar who tells tall tales to small children to keep them busy. "They sang about the islands, about the brave people who lived here, about the magic that lives in the ocean and the sky and..." I tap Lukas’s chest, "in here."
"In my heart?"
"That's where magic starts."
I catch Jonas watching me, and something in his expression makes me want to dive into the pool and hit my head.
But I can’t freaking stop. It’s like I have some new kind of super power.
Maybe this is a new business opportunity.
"What happened to the princess?" Jace demands.
"Some say she still lives in the volcano, keeping all the island's children safe. Others say she turned into a sea turtle, swimming forever in the warm waters. But I think..." I glance at the resort's volcano, conveniently starting its hourly show, "I think she's still here, watching over children who believe in magic."
"Like us?" Both kids are exploding with excitement.
"Especially like you."
"Dad." Lukas turns to Jonas. "Can we look for the princess tomorrow? At the beach?"
"Please?" Jace adds her cuteness to the campaign. "We could bring shells for her."
Oh, what have I done?
This is where I should step back. Let Hot Dad take over. Stay out of planning tomorrow's activities like I'm part of this tribe or something.
But Jonas is looking at me with a crooked dad smile, half in amazement, and half in relief that he’s getting a little break.
Then reality crashes into me like a rogue wave.
Three days. I've been here three days. My sacred three-day rule, broken without me even noticing. Worse, I think I'm already thinking about tomorrow...
I don’t hang out with men for more than three days, and I certainly don’t hang out with their adorable children for that long, either.
Oh god.
My phone buzzes, snapping me back to reality:
Ryan:
How's the family angle going?
I might be in trouble
That good, huh?
"Miss Minty?" Jace tugs my hand. "Will you help us look for the princess?"
"I... I have work to do." The words are gritty in my mouth. Sour. Like bad milk. "Articles to write."
"You can write about our princess," Lukas suggests. "For your 'search."
"Research," Jonas corrects. "And I'm sure Miss Minty has other activities to observe."
But he's watching, and the man is no dummy. He sees my panic. Because of course he does. He sees everything.
My phone buzzes again:
Mom:
How's paradise?
I don't do domestic
Sounds like domestic is doing you
"Please?" Both kids deploy maximum pleading power.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I look at my phone, at my notebook filled with crossed-out work notes, at these two tiny humans who somehow sneaked past my defenses before I could stop them. Or myself.
I don’t do domestic. I definitely don’t do instant family. And I absolutely don’t do complicated entanglements with hot single dads who read my work, make dad jokes, and have the audacity to look at me like…
Like that. Like he’s looking at me right now.
“I should go,” I say abruptly, standing so fast I almost knock over the chair. The kids look up, wide-eyed and confused, and for a moment, guilt tugs at me.
But I shove it down. This is exactly why I don’t mess with family dynamics. Adults are fair game, but kids? Kids are off-limits.
“Work to do. Articles to write. Very professional things,” I add, waving vaguely at my phone like it’s some kind of lifeline.
“Alexa—” Jonas starts, but I cut him off.
“Tomorrow?” Jace says hopefully, her big eyes locking onto mine. Totally oblivious to the grown-up discomfort unfolding around of her.
I glance at my carefully constructed life—the one I’ve built on rules, detachment, and a strict three-day cap on emotional entanglements. I should walk away. I need to walk away.
But then there’s Jonas, watching me with those stupidly blue eyes. And for a guy who doesn’t seem like a talker, his silence says way too much.
“No pressure,” he says, his voice calm, steady. But the look in his eyes? It’s trouble. The kind I can’t afford.
My phone buzzes again, and I glance down.
Ryan:
*Tell me you’re getting good material
*Too good. That’s the problem
Jace tugs on my sleeve. “Princess hunting tomorrow?”
I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the heat, the relentless optimism of these kids, or the sheer audacity of Jonas to exist like this—stable, solid, and wildly inconvenient.
“For the article,” I hear myself say. “I might be free. For research.”
Jonas smiles. It’s small, but it’s there, and it’s the kind of smile that makes promises I’m not sure I want him to keep.
I pick up my notebook and my phone, ignoring the way my pulse stutters. This is still just a story. Not a vacation, at least not for me.
I’m working here.
And I need to stop forgetting that.