Chapter Twenty-Six
Everett Hale didn’t expect to see Wolfe Wells walk into the Purity lobby without warning.
The man still had a presence that made people straighten instinctively.
Broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to his elbows, that snake tattoo curling over his collar like it had its own pulse.
The matching leather bracelet cuffs he always wore had spawned a host of men trying to imitate the look, reminding Everett of the friendship bracelet craze with Taylor Swift.
He looked more like a legend who had wandered off a surfboard than a billionaire developer and the owner of Purity Hotels.
“Holy shit,” Everett muttered, already moving from the front desk, where he’d been holding a short meeting with staff. “Wolfe?”
Wolfe grinned when he spotted him. “There he is! The golden boy of Waikiki.”
“Didn’t know you were coming,” Everett said, shaking his hand. “I would’ve had the red carpet—”
“Relax,” Wolfe cut in. “I don’t do red carpets. Or warning emails. Figured I’d drop in, see what you’ve built before I start hearing about it from the suits in New York.”
Everett gestured around them. “Then welcome to Purity Waikiki.”
Wolfe’s gaze swept the open lobby: the sky-high ceiling embracing sunlight, the spill of fresh flowers throughout, the comfortable seating arrangements sprawled throughout the endless space.
The floors were milled from reclaimed monkeypod wood polished to a low satin glow that invited bare feet more than designer shoes.
Handwoven lauhala mats softened the walkways, and the air carried the faint, clean scent of plumeria and salt.
Instead of glossy marble, the reception desk was carved from a single slab of koa, the edges left raw so it looked as though it had drifted in from the beach. Behind it, a living wall of native plants climbed toward a skylight, their leaves shifting in the trade winds from the open doors.
“Feels alive,” he said after a beat. “Like it belongs here instead of sitting on top of it.”
“That was the goal,” Everett said. “Can I give you the grand tour?”
Wolfe grinned. “Exactly why I dropped in.”
“Let me get our GM here to accompany us.” Everett shot out a text and moments later, Matthew strode toward them. His smile was polite, but there was a subtle ownership to the way he carried himself, as if he assumed Wolfe was here to evaluate his domain.
“Mr. Wells,” Matthew said smoothly, shaking his hand. “A pleasure. Welcome to Purity Waikiki. I’ve been overseeing final preparations.”
Wolfe nodded. “Good to meet you.”
They started the tour. Wolfe moved with relaxed confidence, while Matthew hovered half a step ahead, clearly positioning himself in Wolfe’s line of sight.
“We built the foundation with local volcanic aggregate to limit imports,” Everett said as they walked. “Solar panels handle seventy percent of the power needs. Water filtration’s fully recycled. Even the decor—woven pandanus, reclaimed koa wood—all sourced from the islands.”
Wolfe whistled low. “You’ve been busy.”
“We’ve also begun auditing guest experience pathways,” Matthew said. “Some of the local elements may be overwhelming for high-end travelers, so we’re curating which pieces stay and which get streamlined. A cleaner aesthetic appeals more universally.”
Everett shot him a look. “The point wasn’t universal appeal. It was authenticity.”
Matthew smiled, politely dismissive. “Authenticity within reason. Guests expect luxury, not an anthropology lesson.”
Wolfe’s gaze skipped between them—interest piqued, but his thoughts unreadable.
They continued to the rooftop terrace. Rows of solar panels gleamed under the sun, angled perfectly; beneath them, a thin water sheet shimmered over volcanic rock, cooling the panels and irrigating the rooftop garden in a quiet cycle.
“Solar energy, gray-water reuse, reclaimed wood from Big Island mills,” Everett said. “Full closed-loop design. Everything that powers the hotel gives back to it.”
“Exactly what our vision was,” Wolfe said, impressed. “And you carried it out.”
Matthew stepped closer to Wolfe. “We may phase back certain features after opening. Guests don’t always appreciate the visual noise of exposed solar or industrial tubing. Some prefer a sleeker luxury feel.”
Wolfe raised a brow. “Visual noise, huh?”
Matthew nodded confidently. “Efficiency and optics go hand in hand. I’ll be presenting proposals.”
Everett’s teeth clicked together. “We’ll review those after opening.”
Matthew inclined his head as if indulging a child. “Of course.”
They walked to the edge of the terrace. The ocean stretched, glittering under the afternoon sun. Surfers traced lazy arcs over a clean break. Everett’s mind flickered to Rowan. He cleared his throat. “Genevieve didn’t come with you?”
Everett knew Wolfe Wells ran the Purity empire, but his wife was his main love. “She’s flying in tomorrow,” Wolfe said. “We’re making a week of it. Vacation-slash-inspection tour.”
Matthew jumped in, eager. “We’d love to host a private tasting for you both. Showcase the more refined aspects of the resort.”
Wolfe nodded. “I’ll see how the week goes. My wife’s schedule will trump mine, but I’ll let you know.” He turned to Everett. “You’ve built something real here, Hale. I’m looking forward to seeing how the opening goes.”
The promise hovered in front of him, solid as a contract waiting for his signature. He knew he’d impressed Wolfe. All he had to do was close the deal.
Matthew straightened slightly. “We’ll make sure we deliver on our promise.”
“I’m sure you will.” He sounded amused, but then turned and clapped Everett on the shoulder. “Genevieve and I are hitting a beach bar down the coast tomorrow night. One of our competitors I wanted to check out. You should come.”
Matthew stepped forward. “I’d love to join—”
Wolfe cut him off without even looking. “Bring that surf instructor of yours, too.”
Everett froze. “My—”
“Rowan,” Wolfe said easily. “Genevieve’s dying to meet her.”
Everett snapped his jaw shut. Had his employees been talking? Had Jessica leaked the fact he’d been taking surf lessons? Had he received complaints about his looser schedule and designating more tasks?
Matthew’s expression registered both surprise and irritation, but he smoothed it quickly, clearly realizing the invitation hadn’t extended to him. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll let you gentlemen finish the tour. It was a pleasure, Mr. Wells.”
He slipped away with a nod.
When Matthew was out of earshot, Wolfe chuckled.
“Don’t panic. I’m not checking your HR files, and you’re not in trouble for actually enjoying Hawaii.
Let’s just say I know everything going on with Purity and my employees—especially the one leading the charge.
I’d love to meet the woman who got you out of a suit and onto the sand. ”
Everett shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m surrounded by people who live to torment me.”
“Yeah, welcome to the good life. Seven p.m. tomorrow. I’ll text the address. Don’t wear a suit.”
He strode to the elevator and disappeared into the gleaming glass tower.
Everett turned back toward the view, hands in his pockets. Somewhere out there, he imagined Rowan and Kelsey catching waves.
He was so close. The promotion was almost his. He’d return to New York a king, and guarantee Kelsey had everything. It was the biggest fuck-you to his father and should feel like sweet victory.
Eventually, it would. He needed to focus and make sure everything ran perfectly.
His thoughts flashed to Kelsey and Rowan and the reality of going back to the city, leaving the summer behind.
The ache in his chest bothered him. This was what he’d always wanted.
He couldn’t let anything deter his course.
Even if he was falling hard for her.
His phone buzzed. A dozen tasks waited for him; he answered automatically, the familiar grind pulling at him like a tide.
But for the first time, he wondered if it was pulling him away from something instead of forward.
He shoved the thought down and headed to the elevator.
Rowan was restless.
Bagel kept staring at her with disgust, as if he knew exactly what her problem was and how to fix it, if only she’d listen.
He’d disappeared and chewed through some old ropes in the back, found some guidebooks, and shredded them to create another homey spot on his own terms. She hadn’t even disciplined him this time, leaving him to his rabbit happiness.
Someone should have it.
God knows, she wouldn’t let herself.
Muttering a curse, she wiped down the counter for the third time and rearranged shelves.
Ever since her sexy visit to Everett’s office, things had changed.
It had been easy to keep herself separate when his job and business life had been off-limits.
It was like a game—a summer fling to treasure as long as the rules held.
Rowan figured it would be easy. Until the man had blown her mind by taking a surfing lesson. And then doing it again.
He cooked dinner for her. Held her all night long and never wanted to leave. Shared Kelsey with an open heart, trusting her with his daughter. Now, he’d invited her to an important dinner with his boss, who he needed to impress.
He’d told his assistant he was out surfing and canceled a meeting. For Kelsey. For her.
Rowan could have kept to the rules as long as he’d remained the same man she’d met. The grumpy control freak in a designer suit who didn’t know how to laugh. But he’d changed, and captured her heart, and she was terrified to face the truth.
Huffing out an annoyed breath, she wandered into Tino’s workshop.
The scent hit her first—sharp resin and salt.
Pushing through the warped wooden doors, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Dust motes spun in golden shafts of sunlight cutting through the slats, catching on the rows of surfboards lined against the wall.
Each one gleamed like a sculpture, lean and perfect, as if they had been born, not built.
Tino bent over a board balanced on the shaping stand. His big hands moved in slow, steady strokes, the rasp of sandpaper singing low and rhythmic in the silence. The white foam curled away, falling like snowflakes to the ground. He didn’t look up.
“Morning, girl.”
“Hey, Tino.” Rowan stuffed her hands in her shorts pockets. “New order?”
He nodded once, still sanding the rails. “Kid wanted soft edges. Forgiving. He’ll wipe out plenty, but the board won’t punish him for it.”
Rowan watched his hands. “And the nose?”
“Rounded. Slower to catch a wave, but easier once he’s up. Not all boards gotta be sharp.”
She rocked on her heels and stayed quiet as he finished up. The rasping stopped. He straightened and ran his palm over the rail, eyes half closed as if he could hear the board breathing. Then he set the sandpaper aside.
“You keep staring backward,” he said simply.
Her throat closed. “Excuse me?”
Tino finally looked at her. His eyes were dark, steady, the kind that didn’t let you wriggle free. He tapped the blank under his hand. “Ocean doesn’t care about the wave you missed. Another’s already building.”
“I got back in the water.”
He gave a humph, shaking his head. “That’s not what we’re talking about, girl.”
Rowan’s chest tightened until she had to swallow hard. She thought of her father, of the injury, of the contests she would never surf again. She thought of Kelsey’s hopeful face in the white water.
But mostly? It was Everett that haunted her.
The way his eyes blazed with fierce hunger when he was buried deep inside her.
The tenderness of his hand on her cheek when he was listening, allowing her the space and silence to share.
The laughter that rolled from his chest, finally unbound, wrapping around her in comfort.
The way he loved his daughter and struggled with his demons that held more passion than she’d imagined.
It had only been a summer but he’d already changed her. Broken every rule.
She was in love with him.
She was so screwed.
The ache in her chest spread, but it was bittersweet, mingling with the joy she felt with Everett and Kelsey. The sudden excitement of being back in the water and around her friends.
“I don’t know what to do.”
The words fell from her mouth quietly. She missed her father.
His calm presence, his steady advice, on both ocean and land.
Was it time to walk away from this makeshift family she’d grown attached to?
Everett would open Purity and take Kelsey back to New York, leaving her behind.
Was she strong enough to tell him the truth, with no guarantees?
There’d be no happy ever after for them. They lived different lives. But not sharing her feelings felt cowardly.
Wrong.
Tino smiled, his eyes gentle. “Yes you do, girl.” He bent back over the board, sanding again. “You can keep fighting the wave that’s already gone. Or you can turn and paddle for the one coming. Choice is yours.”
Rowan stilled. The truth echoed in the hollow space inside. Slowly, she nodded, then walked out of the shop.