Chapter 1
Four weeks later
Wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead, I turn the knob again and push hard against the front door with everything left in me, but it still won’t budge. My extended stay at this oceanfront townhouse is off to a rocky start if I can’t even get inside.
I look both ways, glad nobody is here to witness this battle with the door, now that my face is a viral TikTok following my failed proposal on The Good Day Show . This Airbnb rental is supposed to be my home base during the next eight weeks while I wait for things to settle down at the station back in New York.
Since stepping off the plane in Honolulu two hours ago, there’s been a thick layer of sweat plastered across my entire body from the humidity. My Uber driver’s AC was broken on the ride across the island to the North Shore, so I was practically hanging out the window, wondering if I should just strip my sweater off right there in the car. And now that I’ve been wrestling with this front door for the last ten minutes, I feel like I might pass out from what is quickly becoming a cardio workout.
I should have traded my jeans for a pair of shorts before I left the airport. I’m sweating through the outfit I left New York in.
I look around for someone to help me, carefully weighing the pros and cons of changing right here on the front porch so I don’t pass out. This townhouse is on a fairly busy street, but it backs up to a popular beach. So if a random person does pass by while I’m changing, they’ll probably think my bra and underwear is just a bikini — at least until I can shimmy into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
I give the door one last try, turning the knob and bumping it with my hip as hard as I can. Frustrated and exhausted, I pound both hands against the thick wood a few times for good measure. My suitcase immediately falls to the ground. I shove it away with one foot, then start bumping the door with my hip over and over while holding down the handle, hitting it with my free hand. I let out an exasperated growl at the end that sounds more like a wildcat in the jungle than a woman in distress. It won’t budge.
“Screw this,” I mumble to myself. I need to get out of these clothes before I pass out. Then I’ll call the owner. I unbutton my jeans and pull them down to my ankles, stepping out as quickly as I can, when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.
I spin around.
A half-naked guy is standing a few feet down the walkway with a surfboard tucked under his arm. He’s dripping wet, like he just walked out of the ocean. A pair of red board shorts is hanging off his hips, right below two rows of washboard abs. He’s a caricature of masculinity. Broad and ripply in all the right places, with an inch-long scar above one of his thick brows. When our eyes meet, he breaks into a perfectly white grin. Then he looks away quickly, like he’s embarrassed that he just stumbled upon me changing out here in broad daylight.
I fight the urge to reach for my jeans.
For all he knows you’re in a swimsuit, Liv. Own it.
“Uh, sorry.” He shifts his eyes up toward the sky. His attempt at giving me privacy, I think. His voice is deep and smooth, like it’s been heated by the sun. “I heard a lot of banging on my way back to my car, and I was just checking out what the commotion was. Are you . . . are you okay?”
“Oh gosh, yeah, that was me. The door’s stuck.” I point behind me with a sheepish grin, wishing I could stop the blush I can feel rushing across my face. I have sunglasses on so he shouldn’t be able to recognize me.
“This door?” He points toward the door behind me, still looking away.
What a gentleman.
“Yes. Could you maybe . . .” I hope the chiseled biceps he’s sporting are for more than just looks.
“Oh, you want me to . . .” He breaks into another grin without finishing his thought. It makes my insides do a little flip. “Yeah, sure. I can try.”
He sets his board down and starts walking toward me, my heart picking up the pace with every step. A pesky voice in the back of my mind is reminding me that I have no idea who this guy is, and there’s a chance he could shove me inside with him the second he gets the door open.
He has a good vibe to him though.
So did Ted Bundy! my subconscious screams. Definitely should have laid off the true crime podcasts before traveling alone for two months.
But it’s too late. Within four strides, he’s beside me. I try to take a step back to give him more space, but my suitcase is sprawled across the porch, blocking me in. I’m wedged between my door, the biggest suitcase money can buy, and a guy that makes my legs turn to mush when he smiles. He’d probably have to duck down a little to get through this doorway — his shoulders nearly take up the whole door frame.
I press my back against the wall to give him more space. Trying not to stare at the little drops of saltwater trickling off his precision-cut sideburns, slowly dripping their way down the sharp edge of his jaw, to the smooth skin of his neck, and finally picking up speed as they race down his chest. Faintly smelling like the ocean mixed with a subtle hint of cologne he likely put on earlier this morning. Spicy and raw. Almost primal.
He twists the knob, pausing to look down at me.
“Ready?” he asks, as if he needs my consent before pushing inside. His full lips part into a wicked grin, showing a row of smooth white teeth, practically glowing against his deep brown tan. And his eyes are green. Not just green, but the color of thick moss after a rainstorm. Vibrant and playful.
“Ready.” I return his grin, vaguely aware that I’m still standing here in my panties, with a very out-of-place sweater on top. But, at this point, I could be naked and not really care. Let’s be honest, I may actually prefer it.
He furls his brow and throws his shoulder into the door.
I swallow hard when the door instantly swings open, almost wishing it had taken a few more tries.
“That was a lot more stuck a minute ago.” I rock back on my heels. Then I add with more sarcasm, “I guess I really must have loosened it up for you.”
I bite my top lip to stop myself from giving him another goofy grin, but I’m not sure the look on my face is any better.
“Then I’m glad I could help you un-stick it.” He breaks into another toe-curling smirk.
I glance down at my enormous suitcase still sprawled across the porch. His eyes follow mine.
“Do you want me to set that inside?” he asks. Another drop of water falls off his chin and I force myself not to watch where it goes next.
“Um, no, I can manage.” My jeans are still wadded up on the ground next to our feet. Suddenly feeling the need to explain, I add, “I just flew in. It’s a lot colder in New York right now and, um, I just didn’t have anywhere to change. I was roasting.”
Blood pounds all the way down to my toes when he finally allows himself to glance lower — grazing my red lace panties and legs just for one split second — before snapping his eyes back up to meet mine again.
“Oh.” His laugh is smooth and contagious, making me feel even more at ease. “I just thought you were wearing a swimsuit.”
I can tell he’s lying to spare me any more embarrassment, but I appreciate the gesture.
We grin shyly at each other for another beat, but my phone starts ringing, snapping us out of a moment that was starting to feel heated.
“I, uh, that’s probably my friend. I should let her know I’ve made it. She’s a worrier.”
I grab my phone from my purse and glance at the screen. Abby’s picture pops up under her name.
“Okay then.” He takes a few steps backward toward the road and his surfboard. “Glad I could help.”
“Thank you.” I pull my suitcase back up. I position it right in front of my body, blocking his view from my waist down.
He grins at me one more time over his shoulder before picking up his board and giving me a little wave.
“Maybe I’ll see you around here again.” His eyes dance as if he’s going to make sure that happens somehow. Then he disappears around the corner of the townhouse.
I let out a long breath, like I’d been hoarding all the oxygen around me, then press the green circle to answer my best friend’s call.
“Abby,” I say, panting into the phone, “drop everything you’re doing and come join me.”