Accidental Shield

She also wore her disguise again with the baseball cap and sunglasses.

Not a bad idea, honestly, just on the off chance we happened to go roaming by anybody looking for her.

I’ve never seen a chick look as good as she does in a hat. Or in one of my chambray shirts. She wore it over her yellow tank top and blue denim shorts, charming the young salesman right into offering me twenty-five percent off my entire order.

I might be a millionaire in paradise, but damn if I don’t still appreciate a discount.

It was probably the biggest sale of the kid’s life by the time we were through. He told us he’d only been on Oahu for a short time. He’d moved to Hawaii as soon as he graduated high school in Michigan. Valerie had him spilling his life story within minutes.

Before we’d left, she measured out the rooms and sketched what each of them would look like when she was done. I liked what she’d drawn, and so had Bryce.

So I gave her free rein, paid the bill, and let the delivery truck follow us home.

And that’s just the beginning.

For the next three days, I just stand back and help her when she needs some muscle to move something or wants my opinion on new end tables, new paint, the perfect places to hang the beach sunset portraits she picked up to compliment the rooms.

She’s like a professional, honestly. Intently focused. So perfectionist it’s downright adorable.

Yesterday, she decided we had to make one more trip back to the store, purely to swap out a glass table for a rustic copper top stand in the bigger room.

After hauling it home, I let out a sigh, nearly exhausted from just watching her, and then go to the kitchen to make lunch. Val stays upstairs, ripping open packages like it’s Christmas, showing no signs of slowing down until her projects are complete.

My hand goes to the phone, ready to dial Cash, wondering if I should move her next checkup earlier.

It can’t be healthy having a lady with amnesia working as a full-time interior decorator…right?

But there’s no denying she’s happy, and I’ve watched to make sure she gets her full eight hours of shut-eye every night after dinner.

“Hey, Dad, can Savanny and I go play on the beach?” Bryce asks. “I want to practice, too.”

I grin. “What, you don’t want to help Val fix up the new rooms? Looks like a rougher day out there on the water. I know your swim coach drills hard, but I don’t think he’d appreciate you working your arms off.”

“Aw, c’mon. You got through Hell Week in the SEALs, Dad. I can handle a little chop.” He shakes his head. “And Valerie…um, I like her just fine, she’s nice, but…now I know more about sheets than I’ll ever need to for the rest of my life.”

I chuckle, flashing him a mock-stern look. “Trust me, boy, you’ll appreciate the higher thread count some day.”

“We’ll see,” he says, totally unconvinced, and heads down the hall to the back door, followed closely by Savanny. “I kinda hope we don’t have to go furniture shopping again, either. That was exhausting.”

“You’re only twelve,” I tell him. “You don’t get exhausted like grown-ups do.”

He doesn’t answer, and I have to laugh again, mainly because he’s not wrong about how draining it was.

Valerie comes down to eat a little while later. I whip her up a fresh pitaya bowl with plenty of dragon fruit, coconut, and banana slices. It’s a treat watching her pop the colorful morsels in her mouth.

Goddamn. Those heart-shaped lips chewing so happily as she looks up at me and smiles just might be a hint of my end. Little minx.

Afterward, she asks for tools and a few adhesive hooks for hanging pictures.

“Shit, don’t tell me. You want to swap out those beach portraits already?”

She flashes me a grin, tossing dark hair back over her shoulder. “Just move them, really. I want to be sure they’re in the right places where the glass won’t catch the morning light and blind anyone waking up.”

“Fine, I’ll get your stuff,” I tell her. “Need a hand?”

“No, thanks. I want you to be surprised when you see the final reveal.” Her face glows. “Wowed even.”

“Wowed?” I repeat the word back to her, wondering if I’ve ever been wowed by any room in my life.

She nods vigorously.

Guess it’s possible. I’m not hooked on furniture and art, though.

I’m wowed by her. The effort, the focus, the care she puts into it, going through all this trouble so me, Bryce, or any of our future guests will be happy in this house.

“Give me another hour or two. I should be wrapped up by then,” she says.

I collect the requested items from the garage and hand them to her. “Here you go. Wow me, babe, but don’t wear yourself out.”