Chapter 3
Trace picked up his nylon duty bag, except this time it was filled with flippers, snorkel, sunscreen, shorts, several pairs of flip flops and some tees, his TRX for workouts and his special protein shakes and meal replacement bottles. The thing was nearly as heavy as when it was filled with firepower.
The Lihue airport on Kauai was muggy. As he set down his bag, he scanned the crowd. He found Tyler Gray standing nearby. Kate was holding their new baby, about six months old, who was sleeping against her chest. He saw a couple other Team Guys and some SEAL froglettes, but his eye was drawn to a woman wearing a bright red flowered top, a red sun hat, unloading red suitcases with white hearts all over them. He turned to Tyler.
“Who’s the eccentric with the red shit?”
Tyler grinned and glanced first at his wife, then answered, “My sister.”
Trace took a step backward. “Next you’re gonna tell me she’s a drag queen. Didn’t know you had that in your family tree, my man.”
“Look, grandpa. I’ll bet my sister could teach even old crusty and arthritic you a thing or two about sex. She writes some of the hottest romance novels on the planet.”
“Ew. That’s a sort of tummy twister, Tyler. Reading sex scenes your sister writes.” Trace felt his face turn into a prune, until he saw an attractive slim blonde lady in pastel colors standing behind Kate, her hand over her mouth, snickering. He softened his reaction, stood straight and instinctively stuck out his chest.
She looked a lot like Kate, Tyler’s wife.
“I’ll have you know one of those books of hers is the reason Kate and I got together. I was reading it on the plane when we met. I read it to help her with technical stuff, and…” Tyler hesitated.
Kate pulled out the book and showed Trace. The model on the cover was nearly naked, the veins below his belly button disappearing dangerously into the waistband of a low-hung set of well-worn jeans. He couldn’t see anything of the model’s face, except the chin, but there was no mistaking the dimple there, identical to Tyler’s.
“You’re kiddin’.”
“That’s my man. One hunky cover model,” Quipped Kate. She wrapped her arm around Tyler’s waist, looked up and accepted his kiss.
Trace was going to swear, but stopped himself. The blonde was still giggling.
“And I suppose you like this sort of thing?” Trace said to her.
“I love it. I love her books. Here she comes. Let me introduce her,” she said.
Trace turned around, but he smelled the red woman before he got his eyes on her. She was giving instructions to an island-looking baggage handler, rummaging in her purse for some tip money. There were no less than four bags, all big ones, and the handler had them precariously perched on the tiny cart.
Trace checked back with Tyler, who nodded. “Hey, sis, I have a friend I want you to meet.”
The lady in red glanced up and took in Trace like she’d just been given an icy glass of water on a hot day.
“Well hello, there, gorgeous!” She gushed. She stepped back, nearly collapsing the pile of suitcases on the short Hawaiian helper.
Taking a long pull with her eyes, Trace felt physically undressed as she worked her way up from his ankles, weaving as her gaze traveled up his torso and back to his face. He blushed in spite of himself.
“Oh. My. Gawd. He’s shy!”
Tyler and Kate laughed out loud. The blonde woman to his left again covered her mouth with her hand and looked down.
He saw the novelist step toward him again. He raised his hands to give up, when she leaned in and whispered in her throaty voice, “But something tells me you’re not in the bedroom. You see sex as a full contact sport, am I right?”
A small crowd had gathered to watch their interchange, and Trace had to do something quick or he’d just need to leave. He grabbed her around her waist, drew her to his chest and put a lip lock on her worthy of an airtight space seal. He growled and then whispered back to the shaking woman, “How was that? Honey, best wear your gator repellent and a bullet proof vest when playing with me.”
As he released her, she began to wobble, bracing herself on her brother, repositioned her red sun hat, which had gotten dislodged, and sucked in air.
“So, Trace, this is my sister, Linda. I can see you’ve already gotten intimately acquainted with the insides of her mouth.”
Trace extended his hand, which dwarfed the tiny, white, red polished adorned hand of the writer in front of him, who placed her hand there before he wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed gently.
“Very nice to meet you, romance writer Linda. I’ve never met one before.”
Now it was her turn to blush. He could tell she wasn’t used to being upstaged when it came to the being outrageous part. He angled his head to check out the reaction on the blonde.
Her curly hair was unruly from the long plane flight from San Diego, and stuck out from behind her ears and where her clip failed. He wondered how he’d missed seeing her amongst the passengers, and then remembered Tyler and the family had flown First Class. She was a first class kind of lady.
“And you must be related to her,” Trace said as he pointed to Kate.
She gave him a full smile, and was quick to extend her arm. “I’m Gretchen, Kate’s older sister.”
Trace felt her warm fingers that weren’t afraid to show strength. As they shook, she added, “I love reading Linda’s novels, but rest assured, I’m no writer.”
She tried to pull her hand back, and Trace thought it might be a good idea to hold onto her for a bit, leaning slightly toward her.
“You want a kiss too?”
“No thanks. The handshake is fine,” she said as she stripped her hand from his grip, but then gave him another beautiful smile without blushing.
“I see you’ve met two of the single women already, Trace,” said Fredo after he slapped him on the back. You’re lucky. If I’d have done that to Mia when I first met her—she’s Armando’s sister—he would have kicked my ass.”
Tyler shrugged. “She needed it. Bad.” He smirked at his sister who now had her hands on her hips.
“Tyler Gray. That’s a terrible comment.”
“But I was just telling the truth,” Tyler responded.
“Don’t mind him. He was looking out for you, Linda. You said you wanted more hero material for your books, Linda. You just got one very close encounter with the wolfish kind,” said Kate between laughs. The baby began to stir and she bounced him and winked back at Trace.
Linda stood on her tiptoes, arched her back and asked him, “So, if I asked you real nice like, very sweet like, would you do it again?” She followed it up by batting her big brown eyes at him. He usually liked that sort of behavior on a woman. And the fact that she was up for round 2 definitely was in her favor. But he was distracted by the blonde.
“To be honest, I usually like my ladies in pairs. You get your friend here, Gretchen, and I’ll see you two down at the water’s edge this evening. How about that?”
Linda gave mock disappointment. He checked blondie’s face and saw a frown.
“Not me. I don’t like to share.”
Trace had the urge to go all commando on her, which would have been a completely ridiculous idea.
Reel it in, gramps. You’re new on the team. The entertainment is over. Time to get serious.
“Okay, now that we got that out of the way, who needs help with their bags?”
Both Gretchen and several other ladies standing nearby, not with the Team, raised their hands. Linda Gray stood next to her bag boy and shrugged, turning around in a huff.
There were ten of their party present, and others arriving on a later flight from LA. The Air BNB organizer had arranged to take them to the property, and leave her fifteen-passenger van behind with them. Trace sat in the back seat with Fredo, after helping to load the bags into the small compartment in the rear. They had a couple of red suitcases with the hearts stacked between them on the bench seat.
Linda and her new friend, Gretchen, sat with Kate and Tyler. Coop and Libby sat with a couple of other Team Guys who were also solo.
The operator was short, about as big around as she was tall, and sported a Mumu and a plastic orchid in her hair.
“A-Loo-Ha!” she said in the greeting of the islands. She waited and the response was lackluster, so she started the engine to begin the air, but turned to face her audience behind in the bench seats.
“Okay, first the ground rules. When you come to Hawaii you have to answer back when you are greeted with the island greeting. And you do it this way, with gusto!” She inhaled and belted out, “A-Loo-Ha!”
Everyone in the van repeated her greeting back to her.
“Good. Glad that’s settled. As you know my husband will be bringing up your other group. So you just sit back and relax. I’ll be using this little microphone,” she tapped the mouthpiece attached on top of a metal stem mounted on the dash, “to give you some details about our island on our way. It will take about forty-five minutes, unless we get traffic. Then it will be two hours.”
She giggled in glee worthy of any horror show. Trace noticed how easy it was for her to break the ice.
“Okay, so anyone want to back out? The airplanes back to California are right over there.” She pointed to the airport and got a ripple of laughter.
Trace put his right elbow on the pile of two suitcases covered in the white hearts, and rested his head in his palm, waiting to be entertained. The novelist scanned over her shoulder and gave him a flirt, ignoring Fredo. When she’d turned away, Fredo knocked his elbow loose, jarring his repose.
“Don’t fall asleep. The party’s just begun, my friend.”
“How come your wife isn’t here, Fredo?” he asked.
“We had twins three months ago. She didn’t want them to fly, so she sent me on my own, to babysit all you bachelors, since Kyle’s on that training in D.C.”
Trace knew how it worked. If the Team Leader couldn’t be there, even on a big recreational trip, then his two seconds, which would be Cooper and Fredo, would take over, be his eyes and ears. Sometimes Armando as well. But Fredo was responsible for making sure the bachelors behaved themselves and didn’t negatively reflect on the Navy or the SEALs.
“Congratulations! Hope to meet them soon,” Trace was pleased for the Latino SEAL. “Boys or girls?”
“One each.”
“You’re a fertile motherfucker.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Fredo said, his voice fading out to watch scenery.
Trace tapped his arm and Fredo gave him attention. “Can you believe this?” Trace mouthed, and then pointed to the red suitcases.
Fredo pointed to Tyler, “Sister,” he mouthed.
Trace nodded. “Four suitcases,” he motioned with his fingers and mouthed silently.
Fredo shrugged. He pointed to Kate’s sister. He kissed his fingers at his lips and then pointed again at Gretchen.
Trace wiggled his eyebrows. A Team Guy’s sister was one thing, but a SEAL wife’s sister could cause a whole lot of heartache in numerous families, so it was watched very carefully. Fredo was giving his thumb’s up. It was the go-ahead, not that Trace really needed it, to proceed.
“You know her?” Trace whispered.
Fredo nodded. He gave Trace the AOK. “Golden,” he mouthed. Then he added, swinging his arms as if holding a baby, “Three babies,” me indicated.
Trace frowned. And then he gave an exaggerated shudder.
Fredo shook his head in disagreement. He showed three levels with his hands, indicating three different heights, or ages of the Gretchen’s girls. He also winked and kissed his fingers again, indicating they were nice girls.”
Trace shrugged. He couldn’t see himself dating a mother of three. He hoped there’d be some variety once they got to their place. Dating the novelist was totally out of the question, but that’s what everyone was expecting, including the writer herself.
Way to step in it, Trace.
So far, things were not looking as uncomplicated as he’d hoped. But there were six days to go.
When the van turned left off the two-lane meandering highway, and headed into the hills sparsely dotted with multi-million dollar homes, Trace could see that the venue they’d chosen was prime. Each house they passed became more estate-like, the gates got fancier and the humidity and heat lessened the higher they climbed. Finally they drove onto a lava rock paver tile strip with room for parking outside a pale yellow painted iron gate with a pineapple pattern in squares like pieces of a metal quilt. Their driver punched in numbers on the keypad outside and the gate slid across the lava rock, which became part of a circular driveway in front of a plantation-style pale yellow home. Though the structure was square with second story gables, the size of it made the second story dwarf in comparison. An even more generous wraparound deck nearly twenty feet deep was decorated with wooden gingerbread railings also with the pineapple motif. Double glass doors were etched in a lacy pineapple design as well.
The air was cool, with a slight breeze, yet the sun was shining without a cloud in the bright azure sky. Below, green hills rolled amongst rows of plantings and farm animals, and occasional horses, which seemed out of place. Furthest away was the warm expanse of cream-colored beach and blue breakwater. The horizon was marred with several large hotel complexes and two spectacular golf courses. Trace knew that most tourists were housed below, near the golfing and shopping and beach, but the old Hawaiians with money would seek the privacy and beauty of their hillside estates. It nearly took his breath away.
“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Gretchen whispered as she appeared to his left.
“Nope. I don’t think I have. Isn’t what I was expecting to see here in Hawaii. Like how it must have looked a hundred years ago, if you could cut out the hotels,” he answered.
“Oh. My. God. This is the perfect setting for my next novel! The Hawaiian Princess and the Navy SEAL. Can’t you just feel the romance budding? I see sex in an awesome master bedroom, which this place surely has, sex on a grandmother’s Hawaiian quilt spread under a papaya tree and sex on the sun-kissed beach, can’t you, Gretchen?”
Trace was amused by her outspoken and overtly sexual expressions, but he could see she’d embarrassed Gretchen, whose cheeks had turned a blotchy hot pink.
“She’s a little ahead of herself, I’d say,” whispered Trace to ease Gretchen’s tension. “I mean, they’ve not met yet in her book, right? Has she even started it?”
Gretchen giggled and shook her head, no. “But I understand her method is to start with the sex scene and then work her way forward and back from that big event.” She gave him a dazed look and rolled her eyes, as well as her shoulders. “But I don’t write books and I’ve got zero imagination.”
Trace knew she was wrong just by the way she said it.
“What time of the day is the sex at the beach?” Trace asked. He held his breath and let her struggle, but finally she gave him a thoughtful answer.
“She’d say at sunset, a bright orange sunset. But for me, close to midnight with the black sky and all the stars on display. Maybe some ukulele music and an old Hawaiian woman singing in the background.”
Trace was taken aback. It was the same vision he’d had. Without the Ukulele music, of course.
“Mrs. Sanders, I’d say you have a very good imagination,” he whispered in her ear, squeezed her upper arm and pushed past her to retrieve luggage from the van where the others were.
Gretchen was going to say something back to him but had gotten snagged by Linda Gray. He heard them discussing something as he put distance between them—well, Linda discussing and Gretchen listening. He turned his head around just enough to see Gretchen watching him walk away.
Now that was a good sign, and way more to his liking.