Page 10 of Hula Girl

Instead of going my own way, I edge closer to the cliffside, watching his descent. It’s not an easy path, but he manages to glide down. Within minutes, he’s reached the water’s edge and has carefully climbed onto the rocky entry, finding just the right spot to drop his surfboard before diving in after it.

Now that I have the perspective of watching someone in particular, rather than random bobbing figures, I realize that the waves are big. Bigger than any I’ve ever seen in person. My gorgeous stranger soon mounts his board and rides a glassine wave with ease, though. He navigates the rocky shoreline as if by instinct, dropping off the board before he gets too close to danger. I spend the next twenty minutes transfixed by his grace in the water, enjoying what appears to be his natural talent for surfing.

But then he looks up and spots me. He’s straddling his board, in a lull between waves. I can see his grin even from this distance, and I’m mortified to have been caught watching him. He, however, seems amused as he raises a hand and flashes the hang loose sign.

I finally turn away, wondering what I was doing staring at this surfer boy.

Time to focus once more on my mission.

5

Ford

Hula Girl.

The spur of the moment nickname, inspired by the way the stranger’s hips twisted and swayed as she made a ridiculous attempt to find some bars on her phone, had amused me.

Telling her to add a hula dance to get a better signal was just me being me. I’ve never been good at listening to that inner voice. You know, the one that warns you to shut up before saying something inappropriate, or walk away from a contentious argument, or pass up a pretty girl.

But any amusement fell away the second she turned to me on that cliff at the top of Honolua Bay. In its place was something … overpowering.

Talk about attraction. Man, there’s no doubt in my mind that something pulled us together. It was like a magnetic force that I couldn’t resist. Even if I wanted to.

How could I walk away from Hula Girl, anyway, when she was so obviously giving me the once over with those dark, sparkling eyes.

At the same time, I felt an underlying sense of danger in our mutual attraction. Because let’s face it, when did that kind of heat between two people ever do anything but burn them?

And I almost let it go. Ialmostjust wished her good luck and went on my way to catch some waves. But before I could move on, I went and invited her here, to Makai’s. It’s almost nine o’clock and I’m still alone, but the fact that she stayed and watched me catch waves makes me think she’ll be here soon.

“Makai,” I call out to the one-man owner-bartender-waiter. “One more, yeah?”

Makai gives me the dead-eye stare he’s so good at and hauls himself to his feet. His place is one of those side-of-the-road kinds of establishments that if you blink, you’ll miss it as you drive by. But it’s worth stopping for the chill atmosphere, the cheap drinks, and the incredibly fresh poke. Plus, Makai doesn’t care if I hang out with my buddies for hours on end or if I bring my acoustic guitar with me. He’d never admit it, but I think he likes having me around.

“No friends tonight, then?” he asks as he places a fresh shot glass of tequila in front of me.

“They had other plans,” I reply.

“Your guitar have other plans, too?”

I laugh at the implication that I’ve got nothing to offer if I’m not bringing in my friends to spend money or my guitar to entertain him.

“Next time, Makai.” Using my foot, I push out the chair opposite mine. “Join me.”

“No can do.”

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t be professional.”

Again with the dead-eye stare. But there’s just the slightest upturn at the corner of his mouth. I laugh again and shake my head.

I’m about to go at him over this weak excuse when the door opens and Hula Girl steps into the tiny place. Five groupings of tables for four guests each line one wall and a long countertop serving as a bar fills out the other wall. There are a couple of other regular customers, but Hula Girl’s eyes go straight to mine.

And I feel that same thing again. Thatpull.

With her long, straight hair down and falling across her tawny, bare shoulders, she’s a stunner. She’s wearing a little strapless dress, the coral color contrasting with her dark eyes and thankfully showing off those legs once more. Don’t get me wrong, I love—no,adore—every part of a woman’s body, but I’ve always been a sucker for nice legs.

I force my eyes away from her lower half in time to see the second thoughts mapped out all over her pretty face. She probably envisioned this as a rowdy bar she could scope out before making it known that she had taken me up on my invitation. We’re strangers to each other, after all. But this place is the exact opposite of that. There’s nowhere to hide.

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