Page 1 of Blue Hawaiian
Chapter 1
By the time her plane touched down in Maui, Jessica Chavez swore she’d never fly again. Slightly problematic given that she was now on an island in the South Pacific. But after three flight delays, sickening turbulence, and a drunken seat partner, she was done.
As Jess turned her phone back on, the sheer number of text notifications made her cringe.
Nineteen messages.
All from her older sister, Gabriela, who was getting married in six days. Since Gabi had expected Jess to show up at noon, she’d planned for them to spend the rest of the day together, running errands and catching up on family gossip. Though Gabi didn’t blame her for arriving eleven hours late, her texts displayed an escalating level of irritation. By the last one, she’d dispensed with the smiley faces and heart emojis.
Damn. Jess had been in Maui for all of ten minutes and she was already failing as Gabi’s maid of honor. That couldn’t happen. This wedding was her chance to prove she could handle responsibility without screwing up.
No easy feat, considering her life was a raging dumpster fire.
When the Fasten Seatbelt sign blinked off, Jess grabbed her faded Art Institute of Chicago tote bag and hustled off the plane. All she wanted to do was get to her hotel room, raid the minibar, and crash for the next eight hours.
Though it was almost midnight, the baggage claim was packed with brightly dressed tourists, all waiting on their luggage. An announcement came over the loudspeakers: “Passengers on Hawaiian Air Flight 262 from Los Angeles, your bags will be on Carousel 3. Passengers arriving from San Diego, your bags are on Carousel 4.”
San Diego.
According to Gabi, Connor Blackwood was arriving tonight, on a flight inbound from San Diego. Jess had assumed she wouldn’t run into him, because his plane was scheduled to land much later than hers. That was before she’d been delayed eleven hours.
Please don’t let him be here. Not when I look like hell.
She’d have to face him at some point. Not only was he first cousins with Gabi’s fiancé, Marc Blackwood, he was a groomsman in the wedding. But she wanted Connor to see her as a sexy, confident woman who no longer cared that he’d broken her heart five years ago. Instead, she was frazzled and exhausted.
Rather than risk running into Connor at the baggage claim, she took refuge in the ladies’ room. The reflection that greeted her made her recoil. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, her skin looked completely washed-out. Her dark brown curls were tangled beyond redemption. And her eyes sported the raccoon effect caused by smeared mascara and eyeliner.
In other words, a hot mess.
After cleaning up as best she could, she left the restroom and planted herself on a bench by the exit. If she kept her head down, Connor might miss her on his way out. The wait gave her a chance to text Gabi and explain her late arrival.
By the time she headed over to Carousel 3, the area had cleared out, but her battered green suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Heart pounding, she searched everywhere. Nothing. Her bag must have been rerouted at some point between Chicago, L.A., and Maui.
Seriously, universe, could my life get any worse?
Not only was she attending Gabi’s wedding without a date, but she was jobless and temporarily homeless. Next month, she’d have to leave Chicago for good and drive back home to Riverside, California, in utter defeat.
But first, she had to survive the wedding.
As she took her place in line at the lost luggage counter, her phone buzzed with a text from Gabi.Sorry today was such a mess! Tomorrow will be better! I’d wait up for you but Marc’s calling me to bed.
Followed by a wink emoji.
She groaned. “TMI, Gabi. Rub it in, why don’t you.”
Oops. Had she said that out loud?
Apparently, she had, because the man in front of her turned around.
And after five years apart, she was face-to-face withhim.
His eyes widened. “Jess. I thought it sounded like you.”
It was official. Her lifecouldget worse. “Hello, Connor.”
He was hotter than she remembered, with his piercing blue eyes and his thick black hair that begged for the touch of her fingers. Though he needed a shave, the stubble added to his rugged look. Beneath his t-shirt and jeans, his body appeared as firm and well-muscled as it was five years ago. Why couldn’t he have put on sixty pounds or grown a thick lumberjack beard? Although, on him, a beard would look sexy as hell.
For an awkward moment, neither of them spoke, and she was tempted to run in the other direction.
