Page 34 of True Abandon

I wince. “He told you about that?”

Her almond eyes smirk. “Poor boy is broken-hearted.”

“And this amuses you?”

She runs her nails down her ponytail. “I told him not to. But he has a mind of his own. He’ll learn.”

“Learn what?”

“Ku’ia kahele aka na’au ha’aha’a,” she practically sings.

I raise a brow in interest.

She flips her hair behind her slender shoulder and says, “A humble person walks carefully as not to hurt others.”

With a shake of my head, I back away from the counter. “Someday, I’ll be able to make sense of your crazy Hawaiian proverbs.”

“Then you’ll love this one, “My Man-ah Licky Mah HooHannah Lasta Nighta!” she says with waggling brows.

It takes me a moment to understand the gibberish coming out of her mouth. “Ohhh.” I scrunch my nose and hold my hands up. “TMI, Lani. T-M-I.”

She points at me accusingly. “I’m gonna get you liquored up again just so I can hear more of your insane stories. It’s always the quiet ones…”

My head falls into my hand with a shake. This is why I don’t drink. Whenever I do, I develop the mouth of a sailor and a truck driver combined.

With a deep breath, I stand straight and announce, “I’m going to work.”

“Don’t forget, you have your hula lesson with Tutu tonight.”

A few months ago, I mentioned to Lani I wanted to learn how to hula. Turns out, her grandmother, Auli’i, is a respected hula instructor on the island. She’s been giving me private lessons at her home followed by tea and conversation. Spending time with Auli’l is something I look forward to every week.

“I’ll be there,” I say as I walk backward, away from the desk.

“And, Olivia Benson is by the pool in Cabana Four. I’m a little confused by the name, but wow, can we have a conversation about how phenomenally gorgeous that man is. He has tattoos, which I’m not usually into, but on him, they’re like these dark and dangerous pieces of art that scream, ‘I’m a sex maniac.’”

I snap my fingers in front of her eyes to pull her out of her nymphomaniac daydream. “You always call me when a Pele guest has a request.”

“He told me to let you sleep in. Apparently, you had bags under your eyes yesterday.”

With hands on my hips and pinched lips, I ask, “Is this your observation or his?”

“His,” she states matter-of-factly. “And I agreed. You looked like you needed some moe moe.”

I stick my tongue out at her. While moe moe was a no-no for me last night, Lani does not need to know that Olivia Benson, aka Jackson Davis, was the reason I didn’t get any sleep. In an ideal world, no one needs to know he and I have a history. That would lead to questions, and questions always beg for answers.

Out the back, double, sliding, glass doors, I head to the back of the hotel.

A hotel is only as good as its pool, in my opinion. And this hotel has the best. Not only is it large, but it’s in the shape of a flower. The center has island palm trees and loungers for guests to relax. The petals are individual pools separated by bridges that lead to the island. The back three petals feature oversized Polynesian columns adjoining the hotel with hot tubs secluded inside each. The front three petals overlook Kalapaki Beach and Nawiliwili Bay.

A swim-up bar is on the left, just below the Tiki Bar where guests can grab lunch and cocktails. The bar is the first place I look for Jax. He’s not there, so I walk toward his cabana on the opposite side near a waterfall that cascades from one of the enormous columns.

As I approach, all I can see are his feet sticking out of the beige canvas of his personal retreat. I run my hands down my sides and brace myself. With my chin up and a rapid heartbeat, I walk over.

An infinity sign, with an arrow going through it and an anchor at the end, covers the outside of his left calf. There’s a scar on his right leg over what looks like some sort of tribal symbol that was deformed by his surgery. It leads right up to a heinous pair of hot-pink, Hawaiian-themed, board shorts with white hibiscus flowers on them.

“Like what you see?”

My eyes pop up to Jax sitting in a lounger, sipping on a straw sticking out of a pineapple.