Hawaiian Masquerade (Destination Billionaire Romance) by Rachelle J. Christensen Page A

Lexi texted him that she was waiting by the sign for the trail. She was a few hundred yards away, and she was here to see him. Well, here to see the sights, but she was with him, and that was good enough for now. Even though he’d tried to humbly tell himself that he was just showing her the island, the way his heart rose every time he thought of her was proof that it was more than sightseeing to him.
    He quickened his step and skirted between the trees. Lexi’s hair hung in a loose braid halfway down her back. She wore a lime-green racerback tank top and blue athletic pants that were cropped at her calves, which were quite shapely. She turned and caught his eye, her cheeks lifting in a grin. He waved, and she held up one hand with fluttering fingers. She seemed different, lighter somehow, with a glow of happiness. Derek hoped it was partly because of him, but he knew that Hawaii was probably responsible.
    “Aloha,” he said when he reached her side. “You ready for this?”
    He didn’t think it was possible, but her grin widened. “I’ve been ready for this my whole life. I just didn’t know it until last week.”
    “Now that’s enthusiasm.” Derek chuckled. He put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the trailhead. “That’s Pika’s main competitor right there.” Derek pointed to a pickup so covered in rust spots that the remaining bits of blue paint were more like accents to the dark brown stains.
    “Not too much different from Pika’s truck, right?”
    “Yeah, but Jefe is lazy. He only brings enough coconuts to pay his bills. When he runs out, he goes home. So Pika works his schedule around him, except on Saturdays. Pika is ruthless on Saturdays. He’s always here before Jefe.”
    “Interesting economics here,” Lexi said.
    She stopped and tilted her head, listening. Then she started swaying back and forth, snapping her fingers. Derek arched an eyebrow, and then he picked up on the bass rumbling from the truck with the iconic tune “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”
    He laughed. “I think that’s Jefe’s personal soundtrack.” He lifted two fingers in a wave to the older gentleman swinging a machete. Jefe nodded and smiled in their direction.
    “Maybe we all need to add that song to our soundtrack,” Lexi said. “He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I bet his blood pressure is low.”
    Derek looked at Jefe again and saw him as Lexi did. He was focused, his blade coming down with precision on the coconuts. He was slower than Pika and Derek, but Derek had never seen him accidentally split a coconut open with a clumsy stroke. Jefe was a good father, too, and it probably wouldn’t be too many years before his son would push the competition up another notch for Pika. Derek hoped he wasn’t still depending on coconuts to pay his bills when that time came.
    “Will you help me with this?” Lexi held up an expensive CamelBak water carrier. “My brother gave me this before I left. He heard there were a lot of great hikes here, and he made me promise to send him pictures.”
    “Sure.” Derek showed her how to wear the pack comfortably. Lots of tourists on the island wore CamelBaks, but Derek had never had the money to buy one. His own backpack held a couple water bottles, mangoes, and granola bars—nothing fancy. “Let’s get going. He won’t believe it when you send him a shot from a thousand feet above the beach.”
    Lexi grabbed his arm. “Wait, I thought you said this hike was a piece of cake! Did you forget I’m from Chicago?” She pointed at her chest. “My heart hasn’t been above a thousand feet for the past five years.”
    “Except on the airplane,” Derek said. “You’ll do fine. You look like you’re in pretty good shape.”
    “Office treadmill,” Lexi said. “Usually while Skypeing someone for an urgent meeting.”
    “Ouch. What did you do again?” He picked his way around the rocky beginning of the trail, which rose in a steep