Chapter Five
Rowan tried not to glance over at Kelsey’s father.
He was just as jerky as she’d imagined. At least he’d allowed his daughter to stay, even if he was clearly not happy about it.
She saw the way his lip practically curled in disdain when he looked at her.
His obvious judgment of her clothes and the casual atmosphere brimmed with arrogance.
Everett thought he was better because he had money, wore a designer suit, and believed his job made him smart.
But she’d seen plenty of his type. Men who left their lavish city life to build tourist hotels that were crippling their ecosystem.
Rowan burned with outrage at the way these executives treated the island—tearing it up to serve vacationers cocktails and overpopulated beaches without care.
When the job was done, they flew back home without another thought to the damage left behind.
Most hotels talked a good game about wanting to blend with the locals, but after the publicity died down, not much changed.
Tourism was a necessary evil, and Waikiki relied on the income, but there was rarely much respect for the locals.
Oh, yes, she knew Everett Hale well. Underneath the polished surface lay a cardboard soul. Flat. Boring. Predictable. One good wave could rattle him and then he’d be on her level, with no way to use his money to survive.
“What are you thinking about?” Tino asked. He worked the grill like a master, the tongs an extension of his fingers. Rows of chicken and steak seasoned with pineapple and mango sauce smoked delicious scents.
Rowan grabbed a plate and took some chicken. “The suit,” she said carelessly. “He looks ridiculous.”
The image of him marching over the sand in those expensive leather shoes kept replaying in her mind. Instead of sliding or stumbling, he evoked an aura of power that made her stop to watch his progress. She’d ducked her head when he got closer so he wouldn’t catch her staring.
The sleek charcoal suit was classic, along with the narrow pink tie, his only nod to the islands.
His body was the typical executive type—hard muscles from the gym, lean strength from eating clean protein without indulgence, and an air of superiority from believing he was better.
At least his face was a bit more interesting.
His nose was slightly crooked, setting off the perfect chiseled jawline that only Barbie’s friend Ken owned.
His lips hinted at fullness, but he’d have to relax them enough to smile for Rowan to confirm.
Charcoal hair was thick with a bit of a wave, but he’d cut it too short to allow the curl.
His eyes were dark—so dark she wondered if his pupils were dilated to swallow up any rim of color.
When he trained his gaze on her, shivers crept down her spine.
Not from attraction. From irritation. He was too much. Too good looking, too smug, and too cardboard to be Kelsey’s father. Kelsey was interesting—full of color and edges—on the verge of claiming her vision in life.
Everett was already a lost cause. What a pity.
Tino glanced over to study Everett with curiosity. “Hmm. Did you give him a hard time?”
She grinned and moved on to grab salad. “Maybe.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure he’s doing the best he can. Not easy being a single father.”
“Mine did it. And he was amazing.”
Tino’s eyes shone with understanding but no pity. It was a quality that made her comfortable enough to mention her father. Usually, the topic was too raw. “Yes, he was. But we know his journey. The ocean spoke to him and gave him a true north. He had you, but also us. A makeshift family.”
She tipped her chin but didn’t say anything, the memories tumbling over her.
If he were here, he’d be working the grill, trading lighthearted banter, and sharing stories around the campfire while they toasted marshmallows.
Her father had been a respected pillar of the surfing community, but it was his other roles that had carved a place in everyone’s hearts.
A great father. A loyal friend. A leader who cared.
Without him, she was adrift. He’d been her safe place since she was a baby, and most of her path was shaped by his vision.
To be the best surfer on the competitive circuit.
To be a leader to the girls coming up. To give to anyone who asked for help.
Rowan built her image on what her father expected, but losing everything in one big sweep had made her question everything.
If she wasn’t able to surf, who was she?
If she didn’t have her father, where was her home?
Rowan batted the questions away and refocused.
Tino continued. “We’re not sure what path Kelsey’s father walked.”
“One covered with gold coins,” she joked, grabbing a piece of bread.
“That can be the loneliest path of all.”
Rowan tried not to roll her eyes at Tino’s stubborn ideals. He never talked shit about anyone. She’d wished many times for that type of detachment, but her temper usually won out.
She greeted people who passed but didn’t stop to chat. Kelsey was playing with some of the younger children, but her gaze was hungrily pinned to Brie and her crew. They stood in a tight circle, drinking punch, their boards on the sand by their feet.
Rowan dropped into a seat and focused on her plate. A shadow fell over her.
“The food’s good.”
She didn’t look up—no need, the leather wing tips gave him away. “I’m surprised you can appreciate something other than oysters and caviar.”
A grunt. “I hate both of those things.”
He sat, earning an arched brow as she studied him. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting.”
“I just called you an asshole. There’s plenty of other seats.”
“I want to know why my daughter seems to like you.”
She blinked. “Because I listen. She’s lonely.”
Was it wrong to feel satisfaction at the flash of irritation on his face? There was something about poking this man that gave her an adrenaline rush. Tino would truly disapprove.
“I listen,” Everett said. “Things are still new for her here. We came in only two weeks ago and I’ve been swamped setting up a new hotel. She’ll find friends soon.”
Rowan didn’t answer. She wasn’t getting into an argument with him when it was none of her business. She kept eating and figured he’d go away.
“How’d you get her into those clothes? And get her to help with work?”
“I don’t think she cares about the designer clothes or makeup. Around here, that stuff isn’t important. We believe in freedom more than conformity.”
“Hmm. Who’s ‘we’? The surf shop crew?”
Now she was the one to narrow her eyes in irritation. “Yeah. We take our T-shirts seriously here.”
He gave a snort, but damned if it didn’t sound elegant coming from him.
The scent of expensive cologne drifted to her nostrils.
Clove and smoke—reminding her of the deliciousness of a crackling campfire.
He wore a chunky silver watch around his sinewy wrist. Some type of designer, no doubt.
He hadn’t loosened his tie, even in the heat.
Why didn’t he look red, sweaty, and wrinkled?
“How old are you?” he asked.
“How old are you?” she shot back.
He grinned and forked up a piece of steak. “Thirty-six.”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“Have you always lived here?”
She nodded. “I was born in California, but we moved here when I was five.” He fell quiet, as if waiting for her to ask him a question. She took her time, but talking was better than the way he was studying her. “You’re from New York?”
“Yes. Born and bred. I thought spending the summer away would be good for Kels. She starts a private school in the fall and things are going to get harder. It’s extremely competitive, so she’ll have a strict schedule.”
“Sounds like a real blast. Does everything you do revolve around rigid structure and competition?”
“Better than hiding out in a surf shop with nothing to show for your life.”
She almost jerked back. Almost. Instead, Rowan gave an angelic smile. “Ouch.”
Everett rubbed his head. “Sorry. I know. I can be an—”
“Asshole.”
“I guess we just have different views on what’s important. Having fun is fine, as long as it’s done in a—”
“Scheduled way.”
His brows lowered. She tamped down a laugh. He was so rigid and precise. Poor Kelsey. No wonder she was starved for some wildness like the ocean. Rowan wanted to ruffle his hair, rip off his tie, and see him barefoot in the sand. Was he that uptight in bed?
“Great chat,” she said, wiping her mouth and hands with a napkin. “Hope your hotel is a banger.”
Rising, she grabbed her trash and was about to leave. Everett opened his mouth, probably to try to get in the last word, but then his eyes grew wide as he focused on something below him. “Holy shit! What is that thing?”
She peered around the corner. Bagel had hopped out now that the heat was bearable—he’d been holed up for a while with his ice cubes—and came to perch at Everett’s feet. Ears pinned back, blue eyes as big as Everett’s, Bagel gave him the eerie I-see-into-your-soul stare.
“It’s a rabbit.”
His gaze flicked to her. “That’s not a regular rabbit. Why is he staring at me like he’s about to eat me alive?”
“Bagel is intense.”
“Bagel? Does he eat carbs? Is that why he looks so mad? Because bagels outside of New York aren’t worth eating.”
Her lip quirked. “No, he’s more of a salad guy. Just be careful. He doesn’t like strangers.”
Everett stilled, every muscle tense. She smothered a laugh. Rowan would’ve called out Bagel sooner if she’d known it was this easy to freak him out. “Why isn’t he moving?” he asked.
“He’s thinking about attacking.”
Was that a tiny yelp from the big bad suit? Oh, this was priceless. Bagel did his part perfectly, eyes locked on Everett’s, deadly silent like an assassin before a strike. “Rowan? You gonna help me out here?”
This time, a real smile curved her lips. “Not sure.”
“Bagel! Hi, baby. Are you saying hello to Dad?” Kelsey’s voice interrupted the staring contest.
She headed over but Everett braced his hands in front of him. “No! Stay there, Kels, I can handle this.”