Her Hawaiian Homecoming (Mills & Boon Superromance) by Cara Lockwood
Authors: Cara Lockwood
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sometime. She hadn’t seen Kai’s aunt in nearly twenty years. She’d been her grandmother’s best friend. She held the paper in her hand, the release paper she’d dug out of her copy of the will, the one Kaimana would have to sign to let Allie sell. She’d love to see Dallas’s face after she managed to get it signed.
She thought about Dallas and then felt a flash of anger once more. She had no idea how he’d wormed his way into her grandmother’s good graces, but Allie didn’t trust him, and it had nothing to do with Jason or her dislike of men at the moment. Dallas was up to no good.
Allie pulled herself to her feet. It was time to talk to Kaimana, see if she’d be open to getting this over with quickly.
She walked down the path of coffee trees and marveled at the bright coffee berries hanging from the branches. Many had turned from green to orange. The breeze brought the smell of the ocean and the raw scent of leaves in the sun. A red bird flew by, landing on a nearby branch. A bright orange, almost red, berry fell to the dirt near Allie’s feet, and she was overcome with a sudden memory of her and Kai playing tag in the thick foliage. She’d nearly collided with her father’s ladder, where he had climbed up high, basket dangling from his forearm as he picked coffee cherries. He’d smiled down at her, a berry dropping from his nearly full container.
“Careful, I don’t want a broken leg, now,” he’d warned her, half teasing, a twinkle in his eye as he grinned, showing off the big dimple in his left cheek.
Allie stopped, the memory vivid as it washed over her. She thought she’d long since cataloged every last image she had of her father. But this one was new. She held the hard berry between her fingers and rolled it, just like she’d done when she was five. She stood awhile in the same spot, waiting for something more to come to her, but it didn’t. That was what memories of her father were like: fleeting.
Like all the men in her life, she mused, thinking about Jason. No pity party, Allie. No time for that.
She glanced at the nearly red cherry in her hand and studied it.
How did it become that brown split bean she’d seen in countless bags of coffee lining store shelves?
She had no idea. Allie liked coffee, okay, as long as it was loaded up with enough sugar and cream that she could barely even taste the coffee bean. Never even had a cup of Kona that she remembered. Funny, she thought. Her father had loved coffee, claimed no other coffee on earth rivaled the richness of Kona. The dark, fertile soil made by the volcano made it so good, he’d said.
She’d never learned to drink coffee straight like he did. Hers was always laden with vanilla syrups and milk, mocha or caramel drizzle. She rolled the red berry between her finger and thumb, thinking as she walked.
The cool breeze coming down from the mountain caressed her bare shoulder. Clouds rolled in off the hillside from seemingly nowhere. A big raindrop splashed in the black dirt in front of her. Odd, she thought, since to the south the sky was a clear blue. Guess it was a tropical shower. She hurried her pace and came to an open clearing, where a bright blue house stood. Where Kai had grown up. It had been painted since she’d been there last, and the porch furniture was different, but she was surprised by how familiar it seemed. She remembered the big mango tree sprouting up in the yard. She and Kai would climb it daily and see who could pick the fruit from the highest branches.
Another raindrop fell, followed by several others, plunking hard in the nearly black lava soil. She barely made it the hundred or so feet to the porch, before the rain came down in sheets, blanketing the rows of Kona coffee trees behind her in warm tropical rain. She shook raindrops from her hair as she eyed the front door. Bright pink-and-white tropical flowers grew near the porch. A huge bird of paradise rose up from the edge of the porch step, a
She thought about Dallas and then felt a flash of anger once more. She had no idea how he’d wormed his way into her grandmother’s good graces, but Allie didn’t trust him, and it had nothing to do with Jason or her dislike of men at the moment. Dallas was up to no good.
Allie pulled herself to her feet. It was time to talk to Kaimana, see if she’d be open to getting this over with quickly.
She walked down the path of coffee trees and marveled at the bright coffee berries hanging from the branches. Many had turned from green to orange. The breeze brought the smell of the ocean and the raw scent of leaves in the sun. A red bird flew by, landing on a nearby branch. A bright orange, almost red, berry fell to the dirt near Allie’s feet, and she was overcome with a sudden memory of her and Kai playing tag in the thick foliage. She’d nearly collided with her father’s ladder, where he had climbed up high, basket dangling from his forearm as he picked coffee cherries. He’d smiled down at her, a berry dropping from his nearly full container.
“Careful, I don’t want a broken leg, now,” he’d warned her, half teasing, a twinkle in his eye as he grinned, showing off the big dimple in his left cheek.
Allie stopped, the memory vivid as it washed over her. She thought she’d long since cataloged every last image she had of her father. But this one was new. She held the hard berry between her fingers and rolled it, just like she’d done when she was five. She stood awhile in the same spot, waiting for something more to come to her, but it didn’t. That was what memories of her father were like: fleeting.
Like all the men in her life, she mused, thinking about Jason. No pity party, Allie. No time for that.
She glanced at the nearly red cherry in her hand and studied it.
How did it become that brown split bean she’d seen in countless bags of coffee lining store shelves?
She had no idea. Allie liked coffee, okay, as long as it was loaded up with enough sugar and cream that she could barely even taste the coffee bean. Never even had a cup of Kona that she remembered. Funny, she thought. Her father had loved coffee, claimed no other coffee on earth rivaled the richness of Kona. The dark, fertile soil made by the volcano made it so good, he’d said.
She’d never learned to drink coffee straight like he did. Hers was always laden with vanilla syrups and milk, mocha or caramel drizzle. She rolled the red berry between her finger and thumb, thinking as she walked.
The cool breeze coming down from the mountain caressed her bare shoulder. Clouds rolled in off the hillside from seemingly nowhere. A big raindrop splashed in the black dirt in front of her. Odd, she thought, since to the south the sky was a clear blue. Guess it was a tropical shower. She hurried her pace and came to an open clearing, where a bright blue house stood. Where Kai had grown up. It had been painted since she’d been there last, and the porch furniture was different, but she was surprised by how familiar it seemed. She remembered the big mango tree sprouting up in the yard. She and Kai would climb it daily and see who could pick the fruit from the highest branches.
Another raindrop fell, followed by several others, plunking hard in the nearly black lava soil. She barely made it the hundred or so feet to the porch, before the rain came down in sheets, blanketing the rows of Kona coffee trees behind her in warm tropical rain. She shook raindrops from her hair as she eyed the front door. Bright pink-and-white tropical flowers grew near the porch. A huge bird of paradise rose up from the edge of the porch step, a
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