One Bossy Dare

Out here in the sunny hills with a pulsing green landscape handcrafted by God, it’s easy to send your worries packing.

We’ll nail the perfect drink for Brock Winthrope. Dess will take a swim before we’re on the plane home. And I won’t explode from horrifying blue balls every time Eliza goddamned Angelo invades my personal space with her sweet scent and beaming caramel eyes that make me ache to ignite her.

Surrounded by this island beauty, I can almost believe all my wishes will come true.

If only I wasn’t too aware that the picture-perfect beach behind my house is terribly deceptive.

When I start driving toward my place again, I’m frowning.

Fun time’s over. I’ll need to meet with my staff soon.

Coming closer to the side lot with the shed for ATVs, I spot a familiar face that pulls me deeper into the past.

Troy Clement, my old friend and sourcing head, in the flesh. He’s bent down and stretching, wearing an oversized Hawaiian shirt with black-and-red fern leaves and running shoes. I park the ATV and jog up to him, slapping his arm.

“Hey, you castaway asshole. It’s been forever.”

He turns, his lips curling into a shit-eating grin.

“Cole! Man, I can’t remember the last time I was here, either. It’s just as beautiful as ever—almost as sexy as Bali. You’re looking good.”

No joke. Troy has the job any sane person would ever want. I could’ve had his life of travel if fate hadn’t made me a single dad marooned in obligations and acid heartbreak.

“You’re just heading out?” I ask.

“Nope, I’m wrapping up my workout. The flight here left my legs stiff as nails.”

Could’ve fooled me. There isn’t a bead of sweat on the guy. That’s Troy, though, always put together like solid granite no matter how much he complains.

“Come with me to the meeting then. It’s a rare chance for you to show off in person instead of over a screen,” I say.

“Sounds good.” He follows me back inside the house through the huge open doors.

“Have you found your room and gotten settled in yet?”

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. How could I ever forget this place?” He gives me an easy smile. “You’d need a pipe to the head to forget this scenery.”

He’s trying to be friendly and easygoing. Even if he’s been away from this house as long as I have, he also made the trips to our Hawaiian farms I couldn’t bear to.

It’s stupid to resent anyone for gushing over this place.

Hell, this company would be far worse off without Troy handling sourcing. He’s always ready to island hop at a moment’s notice and spend whole weeks away from civilization, hashing out production woes with local managers and sweating it out in steaming warehouses without air conditioning.

Still, I knew this was coming.

The jagged unease that keeps knifing me in the gut every time I look at him. My own traitor mind tries to claw me back to another time and place.

“Go hit the shower so you don’t stink up the room,” I joke. “We’ll reconvene in the back hall. It’s the one place big enough for everyone.”

“Sure, boss. Have you put Destiny to work yet?” he asks with a gaping smile.

I force a smile back. “Her job shadowing for a project recently was hard enough. I’m not sure there’s any use putting her to work in a place as distracting as this. Although she does seem to like Development.”

I can’t say I mind how well she’s been doing since we landed, but I need to keep an eye on her.

“I saw her while I was out walking. The little lady’s almost as tall as you.” He laughs loudly.

My smile never wavers as I nod. Something about that comment bothers me.

I just can’t pinpoint what.

Probably my damn overwound instincts overreacting. It’s hard for anyone who’s been in the military to dismiss them, even when they’re misfiring.

“She’ll be glad to see you again,” I say cordially.

“Yeah! She’s still like a niece to me, Cole,” he says, his eyes turning serious. “You kept your distance—I get it—but I’m still mighty fond of her. That’s why I kept sending you the Christmas postcards all these years. Shit, she looks so much like her mother, doesn’t she?”

No denying it.

Destiny resembles Aster more with every passing week.

That’s something to be proud of, never mind how it stings my heart. Her mother was a lovely woman, a walking magnet for every male gaze anytime she stepped into a room. Hell, objectively, she was a goddamned knockout—even when we were so strained it dampened my own attraction to her.

He’s telling me the truth, but I still have to try like hell not to glare.

“She’s fifteen years old, Troy. The kid has a lot more growing up to do.”

He looks away, scratching his neck like he needs to reconsider his next words. “Well, it’s in the face, I think. There’s a serious resemblance—a good one, man. That’s all I meant.”