Chapter 7
Grant
“You’re terrible at this,” Tom from Team Mistletoe said, lining up his shot for the coconut bowling game. “I think you set a record for most pins left standing. Good thing this is just practice.”
“My aim’s fine,” I muttered, scooping up another coconut.
My aim wasn’t the issue; the scorched earth that was my brain after last night’s fight with Valerie was.
When I’d almost kissed her. Had been dying to. Hell—still wanted to. How could someone cut me open and still make me crave everything about her? Like a kiss could bridge the wall between us instead of burning it all down.
If we hadn’t been interrupted…
I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to shut down the part of my mind that had replayed the moment on a loop all night. Over and over. The warmth of her skin under my hand, the silk of her hair brushing my knuckles, the way her body had pressed against mine.
This wasn’t a fantasy. It was a waking nightmare where the one person who knew exactly which buttons to push was the same one I couldn't get out of my system.
Across the resort, the bartender and the lifeguard sat curled together by the pool, heads bent close, hands tangled. Valerie had done that. Or maybe we had.
My jaw tensed. I wound up and hurled a coconut. It bounced off the lane and popped into the sandpit, leaving all ten red and white Santa pins smugly upright. Pretty sure Old Saint Nick just laughed in my face.
“Wow,” Tom said, dragging out the word. “If Valerie’s game is as bad as yours, the two of you are cooked.”
I swore under my breath.
We were cooked either way because she wasn’t here.
She’d stood me up for breakfast, forcing me to eat alone in a cabana so HR didn’t find out we’d broken our mandate.
Then she skipped the guided meditation and the sharing circle, where I nearly shared my desire to throw her into the pool.
But I covered for her there, too, telling the group she had a paralyzing fear of the share-stick rattle because it reminded her of snakes.
It wasn’t true, but it was petty, and it felt great.
I should have let her flail in front of the board. She’d deserved it after years of taking potshots at my integrity. But she’d just looked so… defeated. And the next thing I knew, I touched her.
So stupid.
Because now, every time I closed my eyes, I saw that moment again—her chin trembling, fear glazing her green eyes—and wondered if she wasn’t right about my need to save her.
Which only proved how far the apple had fallen from the tree.
It had rolled down the hill and been flattened by the fruit truck.
Delaney's didn't do rescues unless there was a ribbon-cutting involved.
I glanced toward the pavilion, where the luau decorations still hung. No sign of her, and our next challenge was just about to start.
“Hey, uh, where’s your partner in crime?” Tom asked casually, setting up for his next throw.
I didn’t answer. There was no point. Valerie wasn’t coming. She was punishing me, this time with her absence instead of words. If we lost this challenge, we’d be out of the running for a high score.
My grandfather’s voice echoed in my head: Can’t you take anything seriously?
Apparently not. I’d saved her, and she was leaving me out in the sun to burn. She was probably in the spa right now, laughing with some too-built-for-his-own-good masseuse over my failure.
Enough.
I dropped the coconut in my hand and stalked toward the bar where Sage sat, hunched over her phone with a cocktail melting near her elbow.
“Where is she?” I swiped the phone from Sage’s fingers, holding it out of reach when she swatted at me. “Tell me now, and I won’t report all her absences today.”
Lies. I was already writing the report in my head.
My eyes narrowed at the screen. A string of unanswered messages from Sage to Valerie scrolled under my thumb. Something twisted hard in my gut.
“Give me my phone back, and I’ll tell you where she is.”
Sage shoved her hair out of her face and darted a glance toward the sky. Clouds darkened on the horizon. The promised rain in the forecast was finally making good on its threat.
I handed her the phone. “She’d better be at the spa.”
Sage snorted. “I wish she was getting a couples massage next to the hot cabana boy, but Valerie never made it back from her hike this morning.”
“Hike?” The wrench in my stomach clawed its way up into my chest. “It’s been over six hours.”
“I know.” Sage pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ve been texting her, but she must not have service out there. I’m about to tell resort security.”
“Where did she go?”
But even as I asked, I knew. That crudely drawn map she’d shown me yesterday on a cocktail napkin flashed in my mind. The so-called scenic trail wasn’t so scenic, considering every path through the jungle on this island was best traveled with an experienced guide.
But she wasn’t with a guide. And now the sun was vanishing behind angry clouds, and the woman who took pleasure in driving me off a cliff was somewhere out in the jungle, probably hanging off the ledge of one.
“Report her missing,” I said, already reaching for a couple of water bottles sitting on the bar. “I’m going after her.”
“Grant, it’s not safe,” Sage said, casting another frown toward the sky. “I can hold off the storm for a little while, but it’s too strong. My magic will only buy you time.”
My pulse kicked hard. “Then I’d better take a jacket.”
“Take mine.” The bartender appeared, arm slipping from around the lifeguard’s shoulders as he ducked behind the bar. He grabbed a raincoat and tossed it to me. “She asked me about the wishing waterfall yesterday. It’s a two-hour hike inland. No cell service and rough terrain near the falls.”
I caught the raincoat and shoved my arms through the sleeves, my chest tightening until it hurt. This shouldn’t matter so much. Valerie was a grown woman, fully capable of ruining her own life without my help.
“You have directions?”
He nodded, scribbling a more detailed map on a cocktail napkin. It was a cruel echo of the one Valerie had shown me yesterday. Did the woman even know how to draw a tree?
“This is the path she likely took. But there are a lot of crisscrossing trails. It’s easy to get turned around.
If she made it to the waterfall, she’ll end up closer to Sacred Spell.
That’s the couples resort on the far side of the island.
You should head there. They’ve been running shuttles between the two resorts this week for some overflow wedding guests staying here.
Just follow the signs. It’ll get you back to civilization faster than doubling back through the jungle. ”
“Thanks for the tip. Anything else I should know? You guys don’t have leopards out there, right?”
The bartender scratched the back of his neck. “They don’t like movement.”
A prickle raced down my spine. “What, leopards?”
“Yeah. Stay calm. And whatever you do, don’t run.”
I scoffed, more for my benefit than his. “I’ll be the meal that doesn’t move. A leopard’s dream.”
I shook my head, pocketed the napkin map, and stalked toward the trailhead. If a giant cat didn’t get her, and she wasn’t hanging off a ledge, it would be a miracle.
The sky had darkened, thunder rumbling as if the island itself was warning me to turn back. The air smelled sharp and metallic, the way it always does before a storm hits.
I shoved through the first line of brush, following the narrow strip of dirt into the jungle.
It felt like stepping into another world, the endless stretch of beach gone, the crashing waves replaced by singing insects.
My shoes sank into the spongy ground, mud splattering up my legs instead of warm sand sifting between my toes.
She’d been gone for six hours. Six. That number kept circling in my head—the worst number in the world.
No, that would be any number after six if she wasn’t found.
Guilt ate like acid in my stomach lining.
I’d moped around all morning, stewing and plotting revenge, and now here I was, risking dengue fever (did they have that here?
No way to check, no cell service) and big-cat mauling, because the idea of her lying somewhere out here, hurt and scared, wasn’t something I could sit with.
A drop of rain splattered against my cheek, and another rolled down the back of my neck. The storm was finally here; the boom of thunder cracking overhead.
And just like that, I was back there—half-drunk, passed out on a stranger’s couch, with the smell of stale beer in my nose. Someone’s laughter echoed from the other room. The buzz in my head barely dulled when my phone rang.
Everything went still as I stared at the glowing screen. My grandfather’s number. He never called. And no one ever called this late with anything but bad news.
His voice on the other end said Matt’s name, and the roar in my ears drowned out the rest. My cousin—my opposite in every way, and still, somehow, my brother—was gone. A split second, and his life had just ended.
I hadn’t been there. If he'd needed me… if I could have done something. The regret had swallowed me whole.
And now, with Valerie missing, it felt the same, the floor dropping out from under me all over again. Like I could lose someone else.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and forced myself forward.
Valerie had said I drained her. That she didn't need saving, especially not from me. But we don’t always get what we want.
And right now, what Valerie wanted didn’t matter.
Not until she was planted in a lounge chair, sipping a tequila sunrise with a bowl of cherries in her lap, spitting insults in my face.
Not until I found her.