Page 3 of Hiding Rose
I put my hand on my left hip, the only hand free of a crutch. “You didn’t mishear me. I don’t eat fish, even in Hawaii.”
His lip curled up. “Are you allergic?”
I shook my head. “No, but I don’t like fish. It tastes horrible. It’s slimy, nasty, and tastes like the seaweed it lived in, and occasionally like dirt.”
He crossed his hands over his chest. “Where did you say you’re from?”
“I didn’t,” I said, copying his posture.
He held up his hands. “Okay, I’ll make you a black angus burger, but only if you promise to try my pan seared Mahi-Mahi with zesty basil butter.”
“What’s Mahi-Mahi?” I asked, wracking my brain for the definition to pop up in my mental encyclopedia.
He dropped his head into his hand and shook it. When he looked up again he wore a grin. “It’s okay. I’ve always liked a challenge. Are we on for a working dinner?”
“You’re not going to give up until I say yes, are you?”
He shook his head no, a cheeky grin on his face. “I’ve been watching you since you started working here. I’d like to get to know you better and I think we can have a fantastic working relationship.”
I held up my hands as I checked the clock. The parents would start dropping kids off any minute and I was already behind. I had to get him out of here and I knew he wouldn’t leave until I agreed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at nine. Where do I go?”
He clapped his hands once and grasped my hands between his for only a moment. “I’ll pick you up at your room at nine.”
I opened my mouth to tell him not to, but he had already bounced out of the room on his orange and black Nikes. This was starting to feel like a date.
The dress I chose to wear was simple. The floral pattern was typical of the islands, but it wasn’t gaudy. The spaghetti straps held the slip of material on my shoulders and the hem touched my knees. It was cool, beautiful, and somehow comforting. I swiped at the pleats until they were even and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was the first thing I bought when I landed on the island. For some reason, whenever I wear it, I feel safe. Probably because wearing it reminded me I’m safe here in Hawaii. My shoulders slumped and I rested my forehead on the mirror. It was cool and forced my mind back to the present before I thought too much about what happened back in Minnesota.
I was about to have a working date with the cutest, sexiest, youngest bachelor in all of Kupid’s Cove. The present wasn’t any less scary than the past, come to think of it. Theoretically speaking, he could be messing with me and have absolutely no intention to discuss any plan with me. He might have used it as a ruse to convince me to accept the invitation to dinner. The same invitation he extends once a week. It’s not like I don’t notice his good looks, swagger, and charm. Believe me, I notice. The problem is, I swore off men eight months ago, and he happens to be a member of the man club. I know everyone always says they swear off men when they go through a particularly bad relationship, and I’m relatively certain it’s the base plot for every romance novel ever written. My life isn’t a romance novel though, this is real life, and I’m real scared of men.
I rubbed my left leg and frowned at the woman in the mirror. A year ago, I smiled all the time. At five feet nine inches I’m taller than most women, but I’ve always worked hard to maintain my weight in the svelte category, my hair the perfect shade of chocolate brown, and my nails perfectly painted and tipped. Now, I’m lucky to keep my weight at one hundred pounds, my hair in a ponytail, and my nails short enough they don’t scratch the babies while I’m wiping noses and wiping butts. I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror anymore, and I don’t like it. Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do about it at the present time.
I spun around and picked up my crutch, slipping my hand in and grasping the handle. My leg was tired after working all day and I stared at the second crutch, leaning against the wall next to my bed. It might be a good idea to take both tonight, even though I hated looking weak in front of others. I had labored for weeks in physical therapy to be able to use only one crutch, but I rarely go out after I’ve spent a whole day in the center. My nights usually consist of dinner with Kate and Gideon followed by a good book on the patio, or a TV show with my leg propped up on pillows in bed. The doctors told me after the injury it would take a solid year before I could make any kind of judgement about recovery of leg function. I have a few months to go before my year is up, but I haven’t seen much improvement lately. I had to remind myself daily it has only been eight months and patience is a virtue. I could strengthen it, protect it, and follow the guidelines given to me by the doctors and therapists, but I couldn’t speed up time.
I squared my shoulders when I noticed the clock flip to nine. I wouldn’t take the second crutch and no one could stop me. Instead, I adjusted the white sweater I had used to cover my bare shoulders, and dabbed on a bit of my favorite perfume, White Ginger. Since leaving Snowberry, I discovered how sheltered my old life was, culturally and physically. The culture of Hawaii is expansive, and there is something to learn about it at every turn. One of those things I learned is how they use natural flowers and herbs of the island to tease their senses. The perfume I wore consisted of white ginger, a flower which grows wild in Hawaii, with an underlying layer of cinnamon, also in abundance in Hawaii. The result is a seductive scent low-key enough to wear daily, but sexy enough to keep them coming back for more. Trust me, I don’t want anything to do with the sexy part, or them coming back for more, but I’ve been on a mission to bring my senses back to life.
I was physically stunted in Snowberry, not in the sense of my height obviously, but in what I could do with my body. In Snowberry, skiing and mountain bike riding was about the most exciting thing available to thrill seekers, but not here. In Hawaii, you could find a new thrill every hour. Between snorkeling, surfing, wind surfing, cave diving, volcano adventures, and numerous other activities, you could go nonstop for days. For those a little less adventurous, there’s always a class being taught about your body and how it moves. I took one of Lei’s hula classes, and it changed my life. Lei is the general manager of the hotel, but she’s also a champion hula dancer. She offers classes every Saturday morning for residents and tourists to learn the basics of the dance. I’ve been attending now for a few weeks. I struggle with some of the moves because my leg doesn’t always like to cooperate, but Lei took me aside and assured me hula isn’t about following the steps to perfection. Hula is about learning your strengths and weaknesses, learning to trust your body, and knowing the dance will be there through all the different stages of your life. The body, like the ocean, ebbs and flows throughout our lifetime. She reminded me my body is recovering, and I have to give it the time it needs. Pushing myself to do activities too difficult for me will only serve to set me back. She was right, and the less I concentrated on getting each move perfect, the more I could concentrate on feeling the movements in my heart, and letting them heal it bit by bit.
The knock ricocheted through my small apartment and I gulped. He was here and I was going to have to open the door. I would have to walk down to Kupid’s Table with him and not hyperventilate in the process. I wiped my hands on my dress and forced back bile. I hate this. I never used to be scared of my own shadow, or of men. I limped to the door and looked through the peephole. Sawyer stood on the other side, nervously glancing around as he waited for me to open the door. He took one step toward the door and leaned in almost resting his forehead on the door.
“Rose, I know you’re standing there deciding if you want to open the door. I’m not going to hurt you. I will, however, feed you one hell of a burger. What do you say?” He took a step back from the door and bounced a few times on his toes, a tentative smile on his face.
I sighed and grasped the doorknob, knowing it was now or never. I yanked open the door much harder than necessary and came face-to-face with him. He steadied me before I toppled over to the left from the momentum of the door.
“Whoa, careful there, cowgirl,” he whispered. “Don’t want you getting hurt on my watch. Kate would send me packing.”
His words forced my lips to tip up. “It’s funny because it’s accurate. It’s nice to see you, Sawyer,” I said, making the proper social noises necessary for such an occasion.
He cocked his head to the left. “Is it? Your face tells me you’re scared to death, and your jumpier than a cat on a hot tin roof. Just relax. Nothing is going to happen tonight. It’s a working dinner. Nothing else.”
It took effort to keep the smile on my face. “I’m not scared. Trepidatious maybe…” I paused and nervously tapped my hand on my hip. “Maybe I am scared. I know I don’t have to be, but logic never trumps emotion. Let me grab my purse.”
I spun around to get the bag and lost my balance. I saw the floor coming toward me and then it stopped, my momentum broken by warm arms around my waist. I was shaking and he stood me upright, but didn’t let me go.
“Rose, I’m concerned. Should I get Kate?” he asked as I trembled in his arms.
I shook my head no. “Don’t bother Kate. I’m tired and lost my balance. It happens all the time.”
“You’re shaking,” he said, as though I didn’t know my teeth were chattering.
