Chapter 8

 

~ ANNIE ~

 

 

I slip through Cam’s kitchen toward the living area, headed to the lanai with my cup of coffee. It’s late, and after an early morning shift at the Queen K followed by an evening watching a very active preschooler, I need the caffeine to fight the allure of eight hours’ sleep. So I’m grateful that Cam told me to help myself.

On my way to the sliding glass door that leads to paradise, I stop a moment to peek into Stella’s room and see her in a contented slumber.

I’ve watched her for three nights in a row now, and each time I see her, she seems a little more at home here among the palm trees, with Hawaiian music flowing through the air. Each evening, our first stop is Cam’s community pool, with its kiddie-sized waterslide, infinity-edge overlooking the ocean, and flock of vacationing families. I even met a couple families who said they’ll need a babysitter later this week.

I couldn’t ask for a better side job than this one.

She wears herself out before I feed her dinner. Then after a bath, she collapses into her bed like she is right now.

I want her life. Just for a week or so, so that I can recover from the past months of chaos. I want to slide down that waterslide as I squeal with delight and gorge myself on mac-and-cheese. I want sleep to descend on me like a wave and not set me free until the break of dawn.

To the right of the lanai hangs a photo of Cam and his brothers. I’m unable to resist its pull on me—this image of three brothers, arms draped over each other’s shoulders in solidarity, and wide, confident grins on their faces.

Cam is in the middle. His uniform differs from that of his brothers. He wears a rich grey with a matching cap and there’s an historic-looking building behind him, the kind you see in those old colleges that speckle the East Coast of the mainland.

From the diploma I saw on his wall in his bedroom (yes, I did go in there just once after folding some of his laundry to impress him), I’m assuming it’s West Point behind them all.

I don’t know much about the military. The only person I know who served is someone I went to high school with. I saw on Facebook a couple years back that he’d been killed in a training accident. He wouldn’t even have recognized me—it’s not like we were friends—but I cried for an hour when I’d seen the post. Then I went on with my life, feeling a kind of gnawing guilt that I could go on with my life while his family was still reeling from the loss of him.

Three brothers, all in uniform. How his parents must not have slept back then.

And yet, as I stare at them, even knowing all they must have gone through while they were serving my country, I can’t help feeling a sense of jealousy for this bond they seem to share. I can see it in the photo, as clear as though a chain were linking all three of them. That knowledge that someone’s always got your back. That no matter what you’ve done or people say you’ve done, you always have someone to turn to.

I wish I felt that from my family. Especially the past couple months.

Sighing, I break my gaze from the photo and step onto the lanai.

It’s pitch black out, yet even so, once my eyes adjust I can see the whitecaps in the distance. I wonder if Cam and his brothers enjoy it out here as much as they should. As a nanny, I’ve seen how the other half lives, and it always seemed to me that people who have the most beautiful views never take the time to enjoy them.

And people who have the best children never take the time to enjoy them either.

My mind flits to the houses where I played nanny in D.C. in the years since I left Hawai‘i with their classic Georgetown architecture, imported crystal chandeliers, and precious children. The parents I worked for were too busy to read to their kids in bed or teach them how to make a whistle noise with a blade of grass; that was my job.

I frown. But who am I to offer them advice? Especially after the way I escaped that town, reputation in tatters.

My nerves prickle at the sound of the door opening inside the condo. I turn and see Cam approaching through the short hallway leading to the living room.

Lord, he’s a sight.

He cocks his head and sends me a playful grin.

“Wendy, I’m home,” he whispers jovially, keeping his voice low as he passes Stella’s bedroom door.

Standing reluctantly, I smile. I’m not a fool. My name’s not Wendy and this home is not one I share with him.

I recognize his statement as a quote from a movie—though I can’t remember which one.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s from The Shining, you know?” he says.

“Ah, that’s the one. I couldn’t quite remember.” In truth, I hate scary movies, even the classics.

He glances over his shoulder as he joins me on the lanai. “Did she get to sleep all right?”

“Out like a light around eight. I think she’s already settling into the time difference. I’m surprised your brothers didn’t beat you home like they did last night.”

“Think they had dates.”

Date? What’s a date? That’s some kind of fruit, right?

I step toward the sliding glass door, longing to sit back down and enjoy the view for a little longer.

“Thanks for coming again tonight.”

“Happy to have the work,” I admit.

“I’m sure you must be beat.” He pulls out his wallet. “I’ve worked you hard these past three nights.”

“I am. It’s hard to pull myself from this view, though,” I confess.

“No view where you are?”

“Nope. I can hear the water, but can’t see it. I’m about three blocks from the ocean, overlooking a Tsunami Evacuation Route sign.”

He laughs. “Only in Hawai‘i.” His hand, still grasping his wallet, drops to the side of him as his eyes slip to the cup of coffee in my grasp. “Hey, don’t let me cut your coffee off, then. Sit and finish it.”

I open my mouth, about to turn the offer down. It’d be too easy, slipping into this fantasy a while longer. And too dangerous with him here. But then he cuts me off by adding, “Mind if I join you?” as he plops down in the soft chair next to mine.

Holy crap. Mind? I’d pay good money to spend just fifteen minutes with him out here sharing small talk. If I had good money, that is.

“No, not at all.” I dare to rest my feet again, careful to look at the ocean and not at him, even though I’m debating which view is better.

“It was this lanai that sold my brothers on the place.”

“This view would sell anyone.”

“Yeah. Fen was on board with the idea from the get-go. He just looked at this view and fell hard. But Dodger—he was the tougher nut to crack. We rented it out while we were still in the Army, but always planned on moving in when we were out.”

“So why did you all join the military?”

He stretches out, giving me a mind-numbingly good view of the muscles in his legs.

“Dodger went in because he wanted to be a doctor and that was the only way he’d ever get his degree without six figures of loans. Medical school was a little too pricey for our family. Our cousin went to the Naval Academy totally against his dad’s wishes. And when Dodger saw how the military covered his tuition, he figured he’d do the same for medical school, but chose the Army, probably just to be different. Fen followed because he wanted to be a pilot like our grandpa was.”

I ease back into my chair, feeling dangerously comfortable. “And what drew you to Army life?”

He chuckles, low and warm, the kind of laugh that makes my body heat. “Oh, I just saw how many women fell for my brothers’ uniforms. I needed a piece of the action.”

Even though he’s smiling, his eyes are locked on the horizon, and I feel like there’s something more to it than that.

“And why did you all get out?” I cringe as I say it. Too personal. “I’m sorry. Not my business.” I straighten my back and lean forward, ready to stand. I need to get out of here before I get too comfortable with this man.

He reaches for my hand and when his skin meets mine, my breath catches.

“Don’t go. Finish your coffee,” he urges.

My mouth stays frozen for a moment, just staring at the way his dark lashes frame his eyes. It’s a sin those lashes were wasted on a man who probably doesn’t even appreciate them. “Okay,” I finally say, feeling obligated to stay somehow, as though if I bolted off this lanai, I’d be advertising the fact that being with him is almost inebriating.

“Why’d we leave?” He repeats my question slowly, as though he’s pondering his answer. “Well, I can’t speak for my brothers. People get out for reasons they usually don’t share. They might tell you that they were just tired of it. Tired of shit blowing up in their faces. Or the moving. Or the chain of command. I mean, if I don’t think I should serve someone another drink at the bar, I can refuse to do it without worrying I’ll be facing a court martial.”

I find myself nodding, simply because I do know what it’s like to have a boss tell you to do something you don’t want to do.

“For me, though, the answer’s a lot simpler. I was in the Rangers. They’re Special Ops, you know.”

“I’ve heard of them.”

“Right. Best of the best. Perfect health and strength and reflexes. And that was me, until I got too close to an IED and it blasted out one of my eardrums. I’m deaf as a rock in my left ear.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

“That’s about what I said when it happened.” He grins. “With a few more expletives thrown in for good measure. So anyway, there’s no such thing as a half-deaf Ranger, so I left. Couldn’t imagine being in the Army without being part of the Regiment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No big deal. I’ve known guys who had to get out because they lost a limb. Me losing hearing in one ear doesn’t deserve sympathy. Besides, half the shit in the world I don’t care to hear anyway. So with half my hearing, I’m just about where I want to be.” A smile sliding up his cheeks, he shrugs. “And now I’m a bartender.”

“The best on the island, I’ll bet. I’d totally order a second overpriced margarita from you; I love a good margarita. Well, if I could afford the first one, that is,” I add with a laugh, feeling the need to lighten the conversation. I’m enjoying this too much—this feeling of camaraderie and sharing and friendship. Three things I can’t afford right now. But I savor it just the same.

“Oh, God, that’s right.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some bills from his wallet. “I’m so tired I nearly forgot to pay you.”

And there it is. The reminder that I’m not a friend. I’m just the babysitter.

“Thanks,” I say as he hands me several twenties. “I’ve got change in my purse.”

“Nah. Keep the change.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Hell, I should give you twice that for all the cleaning you did yesterday. That’s not part of the job description, you know.”

“I like keeping busy. And there are a lot of hours between her bedtime and when you or your brothers get home.” I suck down the last sip of my coffee. “I’ll load this in the dishwasher and head out, then.”

He takes the mug from me as we stand. “I’ll do it.”

I tug it back. “Really, I—”

His other hand encloses over mine as I grip the mug. The feel of his skin on mine again makes my spine tingle, however innocent the touch might be. Although the way he is looking at me now—with his soft eyes exploring the curves of my face—doesn’t quite feel innocent.

I’ve seen that look before, and it should frighten me. Yet it doesn’t. Not with him. I wonder if that makes me a fool.

“I know you’re probably questioning my domestic skills,” he says, his hand still on mine, “but I am capable of loading a coffee mug in the washer.”

Forcing a smile through a haze of lust and uncertainty that nearly blinds me, I let go of the mug. And him. The latter pains me a little.

“Okay.”

He sets the mug on the counter as he walks me to the door.

“Go back and enjoy that lanai,” I tell him. “You can’t walk me to my car with a kid alone in the house.”

“I can at least keep an eye on you in the parking lot. This might be a gated community, but things happen sometimes even here in paradise. So humor me. And text me when you get home, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” Mind? I revel in the thought of it—of someone actually looking out for me. It’s not something I’ve felt often lately.

After I step out the door, I slip on the flip-flops I left on the doormat.

“Oh, hey—” he says as I’m walking away.

Turning, my breath catches at the sight of him. Hawai‘i has ordinances about residential lighting so that the skies remain dark for stargazing at the big observatories on top of Mauna Kea. With Cam softly illuminated by the low lights along the walkway outside his condo, he looks almost otherworldly to me, like an image in a dream.

“Yes?” My voice is pathetically weak in my reply.

“Stella saw a commercial for a zoo in Hilo. I promised her I’d take her on my next day off. Want to join us?”

 Holy… My heart seizes up inside my chest. Is this Adonis of a man actually asking me on some semblance of a date?

I suppress the urge to do cartwheels to my car right now. It’s not like I can say yes; he’s my boss and that breaks my unspoken rule. But just the fleeting idea of it makes me sizzle in parts of my body that have been long neglected.

“The zoo?” I verify cautiously.

“Yeah. It’s on the other side of the island, you know? That’s a long drive. And all I keep thinking is, how the hell am I supposed to handle the public bathroom situation with Stella?”

And just like that, my bubble bursts.

I’m a bathroom escort.

Shit. I’m also an idiot.

Half-deaf like he is, he clearly doesn’t hear my heart shattering behind my ribcage as he continues, “I’ve done it a couple times now. And every time I send her in there on her own, I feel like I want to duct tape a GPS locator to her, you know, just in case.” He pauses, seeming to take in the bewildered look on my face. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

Now I’m offended. “You don’t need to do that. I mean, you’ll be there. It’s not like I’d really be doing much.”

“I insist. Those are hours you could be making money elsewhere.”

I’m desperate enough that I don’t argue with him about it. I just nod my head like a wordless fool. A dateless, wordless fool.

His head tilts slightly. “I still need you tomorrow, too, if that’s all right.”

I snap out of my rejected stupor. “Oh, yeah, definitely. I’ve just got a couple midday babysitting jobs. Except on Friday when the Queen K needs me for an afternoon shift. I’m not available till eight-thirty or so on that day. There’s a huge Japanese tour group coming in, so I have to be there.”

He looks at me oddly. “Do you speak Japanese or something?”

“Yep.” I stand a little straighter, a little prouder, when I say it. Something about still babysitting in my twenties makes me feel like I won’t be bragging at any high school reunions in the near future. But when I say I speak Japanese, I feel a pinch of pride, as though it’s proof that there is a brain behind all this poorly dyed hair.

“Wow. Well, one of these resorts around here will snap you up full-time soon enough. That’s like saying you can pull gold out of your ass around here.” He glances over his shoulder. “Geez, I’m glad she’s asleep. I swear I really do watch the language around her.”

My only reply is a tepid smile as I spare him one last glance before climbing into my car.