Her Hawaiian Homecoming (Mills & Boon Superromance) (28 page)

Teri clapped her hands, and Allie jumped forward to give him a hug, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Whoa,” he said. “Easy, now. Don’t send me back to the hospital.” But he grinned, showing his bright white smile. Allie was glad to see him up again, even if it was on crutches. He looked good, and she hoped the reports of his depression were largely exaggerated.

“How’s that leg?” Allie asked, eyeing the brace still on it.

“Won’t know till I have more rehab.” He knocked at the white Velcro brace wrapped around his knee. “Muscles are still really weak. Sorry I couldn’t help with the coffee harvest this year.”

“Don’t be silly!” Allie exclaimed. “You had healing to do. Besides, you know Dallas loves to have something to lord over your head.”

Kai chuckled a little. “That’s true,” he said. “How’s business, Teri?”

“Awful,” she moaned, playing with one of the oversize pearls of her necklace. She was impeccably dressed as usual in a linen shift dress, her bleached-blond, chin-length hair perfectly coifed. “The tourists have disappeared. I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d say I
miss
them, but there it is!”

“I hear you,” Jesse said. “Since the Red Cross left, and the other volunteers, business at the coffee shop has really slowed down. It’s bad. I heard some of the other shops are in worse shape. Everyone is counting the days to the festival next week, but who knows if the tourists will show?”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Teri said. “Here I thought we’d gotten over the worst of it by not being leveled by a tsunami, but then here comes the slow bleed of no customers!”

“That’s why we’ve got a plan,” Kai said. “How do you feel about a luau?”

“I love poi and roasted pig as much as the next girl, but what’s that got to do with business?” Teri asked.

“Probably nothing, but I’ve got a reporter and a big blogger from Honolulu coming to cover how the whole community is celebrating still being here, and with any luck, we’ll get some attention, and talk up the coffee festival, and we’ll have tourists again.”

“That’s a great idea,” Allie exclaimed, feeling hopeful for the first time.

“Everyone needs this,” Jesse said. “It’ll remind us all what’s important. It’s like Aunt Kaimana says, when you’re at a luau you’re
ohana
—family.”

“Have you talked to Jennifer Thomas? Maybe she could get the film crew of
Hawaii Living
here, too,” Teri offered.

Allie fell silent, even as Jesse looked worriedly at her. She wouldn’t meet Jesse’s gaze.

“Uh, no...we haven’t, but...” Kai didn’t get to finish his sentence. Teri stumbled over his words.

“I’ll call her,” she offered brightly, having no idea that the very thought of Jennifer coming to the luau was like a knife in Allie’s stomach. Jennifer was the last person she wanted to hear about or see. She felt a flare of jealousy at the very mention of her name.

Kai shifted his weight on his crutches, uncomfortable. He was in a spot where he couldn’t exactly turn down publicity. Allie knew it. Maybe Jennifer would flatly refuse, she thought.

“Want to sit down?” Teri offered.

“No, thanks, Teri,” he said. “We’re going to tell others about the luau. Spread the word. It’s on Punalu’u Black Sand Beach Friday at seven. It’s a potluck luau, so everybody bring something. I’ll provide the pig.”

“It’s too bad Misu isn’t here. She made a wonderful mango fruit salad.”

“It was so good,” Jesse agreed, and the group fell silent. Allie remembered Grandma Misu’s mango salad, bathed in a citrus dressing.

“I think I know where the recipe is,” Allie exclaimed, recalling her grandmother’s recipe book. “I can make it.”

“There you go!” Kai said, nodding his approval. “That’s what I’m talking about. We’re going to show the world the aloha spirit and just what it means to be
ohana
.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

L
ATER
T
HAT
WEEK,
Dallas sat in the roasting barn, holding a cup of steaming coffee and hoping
this
was the winning one. It was the latest batch through the new roaster, and all the estate’s hopes lay here in this one cup.

He smelled the aroma: good so far. Rich, tasty, bright.

He closed his eyes as he lifted up the white mug to his lips and took a sip. The deep Kona brew hit his tongue, less bitter than the last, and yet...

“Not good enough,” he muttered, and put the coffee mug down in a hurry, sloshing some on his worktable. “Just not good enough.”

The coffee would be great in bags on store shelves. He’d made a damn fine brew, but Dallas knew it had to be one notch better to win the coffee competition. Kona farmers would be bringing their finest samples, and he’d have to be near perfect to compete. They’d be lucky to bring in fourth or fifth place with this year’s batch. He frowned as he stared at his steaming mug of the latest round of roast. He racked his brain trying to figure out if there were any steps he’d missed from last year.

The festival was in a matter of days, and they were simply out of time. He’d run three separate harvests through, and for some reason simply couldn’t quite repeat the magic of last year.

Misu, what am I doing wrong?
he thought, glaring at the baskets of roasted beans.

Dallas knew growing good Kona coffee took hard work and a little bit of luck. Maybe the rain didn’t fall so much this year, or maybe the sun burned too hot. Every yield came out a little different; every bean carried its own unique flavor. It could just be the luck of the crop. But he wasn’t going to give up the idea of winning this thing. He had to do it, for Misu’s memory, and for his own pride. He wanted to show the world that he could run Misu’s farm, that he could make amazing coffee.

And I want to show Allie I can do this.

Dallas realized with a start he really did want to impress that girl, prove to her that he could run this estate and show her that putting down roots here was a good idea. Winning the competition would just show her it was possible. It seemed the best way he could think of to calm her skittish nature. He had a lot riding on winning this year, a lot more than he’d ever had the past several years.

You don’t win this thing, she could bolt.

“Maybe it’s your fault,” he said, talking to the shiny new roaster. He adjusted the knobs one more time. As he straightened, he noticed the old roaster hadn’t yet been removed. It had a layer of rust on the outside, and half the knobs needed pliers to work them. “Come on, old lady,” he drawled, pushing up his straw cowboy hat as he unplugged the new roaster and plugged in the old one. “Let’s try one more dance, for old time’s sake.”

He fired up the old machine, and it came to life, barely, churning and creaking in protest. The roaster had been on its very last legs two years ago, but Misu had squeezed two more harvests through it. What was one more?

Inexplicably, the roaster’s barrel suddenly stopped turning, and Dallas examined the problem: a loose knob. He rigged up a solution with pliers and some wire, praying it would do the job. He had the very last bushels of depulped beans ready to be roasted. It was this batch or nothing. He got to work feeding in the beans, stirring them, checking the temperature. The heat gauge had always been wonky on that old roaster, one of many reasons he’d decided to invest in a new one this year. Midroast, the gauge gave out entirely.

“Dammit!” he cursed, knocking the gauge with his finger, feeling like punching it. How was he going to roast beans if he didn’t know how hot the barrel was? He tried to turn down the flame, but it only seemed to get hotter, the knobs controlling the gas flames also malfunctioning. It only took a few minutes for the roast to burn, and suddenly the barn filled with a thick smoke, choking the air with the acrid smell of burned coffee.

Dallas cursed some more, kicked the old roaster as he worked furiously to turn it off. He opened the massive lid in time to see that his last-hope batch had been burned beyond saving. Dallas whipped off his cowboy hat and dumped it on the ground in frustration.

“Whoa! What’s going on in here?” Kai limped in, as he surveyed the smoke in the barn. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”

“I’m trying to make award-winning coffee,” Dallas muttered. “And failing at the moment.”

“I can see that.” Kai coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. “Wow, that smells awful.”

“I know.” Dallas sounded grim, as he turned on a big metal industrial fan in the barn to try to clear the smoke. “This is a disaster.”

“What about the other batches?”

“Not good enough. And I don’t have enough beans to make another one. If the competition were a month away, maybe we’d have a shot, but as it is... I just don’t think we’ve got the winner here.” Dallas put his hands on his hips and surveyed the tin cans of coffee grinds from separate harvests over the past few months, each one labeled by date, lining the worktable. He stared at them as if they were a puzzle to figure out. One was too dark, one was too light, one was too bitter.

“Well, brace yourself for more bad news,” Kai said, watching Dallas grab the mug of coffee from the worktable and take another sip. “The mayor is going to announce the judges for this year’s competition at the luau Friday. But I had lunch with her today and she let slip who at least one was.”

Dallas froze midslurp, coffee mug in the air. “You’re not going to tell me...”

Kai nodded slowly, grimacing. “Jennifer Thomas is on the panel.”

“Well, hell.” Dallas put down his cup and slammed the worktable. “Might as well just not even bother to enter, then. Why her?”

“She’s our latest local celebrity, you know that. There’s one on the judging panel every year. Last year, it was Miss Hawaii.”

“This is no good. No good at all.” Dallas paced the small confines of the barn as Kai leaned on his crutch, watching his old friend.

“She’s just one judge,” Kai reminded him.

“Out of three!” Dallas kicked some black lava dirt with the toe of his cowboy boot. “We’d have to get both the other judges to agree on ours,
and
hope that there’s not a unanimous agreement on any of the other coffees, which there could be. I heard Queen’s Roast had a great late harvest again this year.”

“All you can do is enter and hope for the best,” Kai said. “It’s like a surf competition. You never know what could happen till the day of. Best not to beat yourself before you even get to the starting line.”

Dallas knew his friend was trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working. “I have to win the competition this year. I just have to. For Misu’s sake. For Allie’s.”

“Allie’s?”

“It’s important, that’s all. You should see how hard she’s working for this thing. She’s even got some new night cream or something. I don’t know. Some spa thing.”

Kai laughed out loud. “
You?
In the pampering spa business? I’d never thought I’d see the day.”

“I didn’t say
I
was doing it. Allie is using some coffee not fit for the contest anyhow. She’s into it. You should see the kitchen. It looks like some kind of girl laboratory. She’s figuring out how to use yogurt without it going bad.” Dallas’s mouth curved into a lopsided grin. He was proud of how Allie had dug into the face cream. He liked that she was determined to make something her own. It gave him hope that maybe she’d consider staying when he asked, which he planned to do right after the festival.

Kai coughed, whisking away a bit of smoke still steaming from the old roaster.

“So when are you going to tell her?”

“Allie?” Dallas frowned. “I’m not.”

“Dallas,” Kai exclaimed. “She has a right to know. The estate is as much hers as it is yours. She’ll be livid when she finds out.”

“But what good would it do her to know? Best to let her be happy in ignorance awhile longer. There’s nothing we can do about it anyway. Unless you have some dirt on the mayor, I’m sure this thing is carved in stone.”

“She’ll be mad if she knows you knew and didn’t tell her.”

Dallas shrugged. “Allie’s had enough bad news in her life. She doesn’t need more right now.”

* * *

T
HAT
N
IGHT,
ALLIE
and Dallas took a shower together in the outside bathroom, taking turns wiping off the sweat and grime from another day’s hard work.

Allie soaped his muscled back, and then took great care scrubbing the thick muscles of his shoulders, moving down to linger along the ridges of his abs. The water sprayed between them, and Dallas stared at her. She hesitated with the loofah at his waist, tempted to explore farther down his body.

“Better not wake the bear,” he warned her. “Or you’ll be sorry.”

“Will I?” she challenged, as she moved the loofah down past his waist to his other bits. They came alive beneath her touch. “Too late. Bear’s already awake.” She grinned. He growled and pounced, pulling her toward him. She lifted her face to meet his and they kissed, hot water spraying across her cheek as he lashed her tongue with his. He growled once more and then lifted her up, holding her against the shower wall, the hard tiles cool against her back.

“Dallas,” she squealed, surprised. “Put me down!”

“I tried to warn you,” he groaned as he held her deftly against the wall, her legs wrapped around him, their warm slippery bodies coming together. A red bird flittered across the open expanse of the bathroom, but Allie didn’t care—she was too focused on Dallas, on how perfectly they fitted together as he pushed forward into her, finding a delicious rhythm. She gasped, surprised as always by his size. He moaned as he held her, burying his face in her wet neck, the water from her long dark hair dripping, meeting the water from the shower as it slid down her shoulder and down her hip. She came almost instantly, her body rocked with contractions, as he held her. Their eyes met, and she felt as if she could drown in those eyes, and he came, too, in a last thrust of urgent heat. The two shuddered, pressed together in the small shower as the last dregs of climax shivered between them.