“Are you kidding me?” Daniel says, thumbing the collar of his ever-present Hawaiian shirt, “I’m the tropical version of him.”
“Pretty sure the tropical version of Sam Malone is Tom Cruise in Cocktail,” Charlie says, taking a sip of the drink. He coughs, his face going red. “Jesus, Dan. What the hell did you put in here?”
Dan shrugs. “Figured the drunker the guests got, the more they’d think the night was a success. You know, in case things went to shit.” He looks over his shoulder at one of the tables where Logan is standing, glass in hand, and talking to the guests. “And I may have given Logan an extra lethal dose or two. Figured the habut could loosen up a bit.”
Charlie and Johnny burst out into gleeful laughter, like wicked schoolchildren, while my eyes are still focused solely on Logan.
He looks nothing short of amazing, actually. I wish I could say otherwise, but at this point I’m starting to realize that he could wear a potato sack and look as hot as fuck. And hell, I’m imagining that potato sack right now, the way it would show off his muscular thighs, and I’m practically squirming in my seat.
Fuck it. I’m owning this feeling. I have an even bigger sip of my drink, enjoying the fruity burn as it goes down, and commit myself to not giving a shit tonight. For once I just want to feel everything but the shame.
Logan isn’t wearing a potato sack of course, but a white short-sleeved shirt that’s unbuttoned enough to show a hint of his chest, and knee-length black shorts. His hair is pushed off his forehead, his beard trimmed, his skin a golden tan. I should be looking anywhere else, but I can’t tear my eyes off of him.
He looks up, his gaze meeting mine for the first time tonight. I can only stare right back as seconds pass between us, the connection a livewire, palpable. Even with the distance and the people between us, his eyes seem to crackle and flame like the torches in the background.
“Aloha kaua,” Johnny says, his voice making me jump.
I tear my eyes off of Logan and glance at Johnny. “Huh?” I quickly sneak a peek at Logan again but now his back is turned to me. I can still feel his gaze, like it’s branded me on the inside.
“Aloha kaua is Hawaiian,” Johnny says as he leans into me. His dark eyes are glossy, his cheeks pink. I think the punch is hitting him hard too. “It means how are we?”
“How are we?”
“Yes. Instead of checking up on just you, it means how are we, how is our relationship. It’s about strengthening the connection from people.”
“Oh.” I raise my drink to him. “Well I think we, as you and I, are doing just fine tonight.”
He raises his drink and clinks it against mine. “I have to agree. And how are you and everyone else?”
I shrug. “No complaints at the compound.”
Johnny takes a gulp of his drink and coughs. “I just wanted to check in. Everyone really likes you, you know. We don’t want you to leave. You are ohana now.”
I look at him in surprise, my heart rattling in my chest. Why would he even ask this? The thought is unbearable. “Why would I leave?”
“Because sometimes people move to Hawaii thinking it’s all going to be one way and it turns out to be another. Island life isn’t for everyone. Island fever is a real thing. You’ve been here a month, that’s past the vacation period. Usually around this time, people decide if the spirit of aloha is really for them.”
I laugh. “Well I’m not even at my probation period,” I remind him. “I’m sure Logan would love it if I left before three months but I’m not giving him that satisfaction.”
“Are you kidding me? The habut will never let you go.”
That phrase alone feels like a warm bath.
“I don’t know about that…”
“Little wahine,” Johnny says with a big smile. “You’re one of the best we’ve had. That dish you added to the menu, the kimchi calzone, is a hit. Logan knows your worth as much as the rest of us. And…”
“And what?” I ask, twisting around to face him better.
“I think you’re good for him. Even if he might not know it himself.”
I let out an awkward snort. “Yeah right.”
“Nah, I mean it, aye.” He nudges me with his elbow and nods his head at Logan who is drinking and talking to Daniel over by the pig. “I know he’s a grump but he’s better. He’s been better ever since you showed up. You’re a breath of fresh air.”
“There’s plenty of fresh air here,” I mumble. “We live in fucking paradise.” And the minute I say that, a warm breeze floats past, smelling of one of my favorite flowers, plumeria. I have the urge to go gather a bunch and put them all over my hair.