Page 5 of Christmas in July

CHAPTER 3

THEODORE

I’ve been struggling to write for the better part of an hour now, trying not to get distracted by the gorgeous girl sitting beside me. Trying to survive how delicious her hair smells.

“Hey, Theo,” Leilani says, gently letting her thigh move to the side to smack my leg with her knee—which isn’t difficult, because at six-foot-four, my massive limbs are consuming every inch of leg room in this little area, and probably invading her personal space. I’m the sumo wrestler now.

“Yes, little lady?” I respond, when she pulls me out of my thoughts. I find myself staring down at her bronzed thigh, slightly revealed by the slit in her summer dress when she kicked me. My body responds, and my pants tighten at the sight of her skin. I want to place my hand on the inside of her thigh so badly, and feel the softness of her skin. Just slide my fingertips underneath that frilly fabric and…

“Why are you staring into space?” she demands, giving me a stern look, and pointing at my laptop. “Why are your hands not on your keyboard? Type! You said you have a deadline.”

“That’s right,” I say with a nod, clearing my throat. “It’s time for serious business! Professor Theo is in the house—or on the plane. This article isn’t going to write itself! Maybe I’ll grab another glass of champagne to help me focus. Would you like one?”

“Sure,” she says softly, with surprise. “But here, I’ll order the drinks. You just type!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I respond, dutifully placing my hands back on the keyboard and trying to concentrate. But I lack direction. Truthfully, I didn’t have the greatest time in Hawaii. Although I tried to go through the motions of enjoying myself, photographing the beautiful sights, taking all the tours—it has been difficult alone. I always keep a smile on my face and try to get along with other tourists everywhere I go, try to share the majestic experiences with them.

But at the end of the day, I’m always alone. I’ve been aware for years, that there’s a hole in my heart that not even the most gorgeous beaches, sunsets, or volcanoes can fill.

“Type,” Leilani says gently, into my ear, her breath tickling my skin.

Dammit. Her voice makes me instantly harden. Her lips are so close to mine that I can almost taste them, and it takes all my willpower not to just lean forward and place my mouth on hers. But she is only reaching across me to collect our drinks, when our flight attendant brings the champagne. The soft mounds of her breasts press against my shoulder, and I inhale sharply, trying to calm the raging bulge in my pants.

“Type, type, type,” Leilani encourages in a singsong voice as she hands me the glass.

I only nod in response as my fingers touch hers on the stem of the champagne glass. They linger there for a moment, and she looks at me in a curious, examining way.

I can hardly breathe with her this close. I study her face, taking the opportunity to gaze into her eyes for a long moment, soaking up all her features and committing them to memory. Just in case I never see her again. Then she abruptly pulls away, and goes back to her window.

I take a sip of the champagne, and I feel suddenly renewed with conviction.

No. I will definitely see her again. I swear it.

There must be a reason I felt this crazy magnetic pull to come over here and sit beside her. I almost feel like I didn’t get to make a choice—my body just seemed to move without permission. Thankfully, I am well dressed due to the Zoom meeting I had with Henrietta at the airport earlier today, where she threatened my job and questioned the point of my existence, as per usual. But I’m happy to be wearing my favorite suit, one of two I keep in my suitcase, freshly pressed and dry cleaned. I hope it’s making a good impression on Leilani, but she doesn’t seem to really notice my stylish threads very much. I am also glad that she didn’t notice my arousal.

Her head is still tilted to the side, so she can stare out at the ocean below as she sips her drink. I wonder what’s going on in her mind, underneath all that beautiful, wavy dark hair?

She sighs softly, and my heart aches for her.

I can somehow feel what she’s feeling, and it doesn’t seem to be very good.

But then she turns back to me and frowns. “Theodore. Theo. Mr. Townsend. Teddy.Type.”

I give her a little mock salute before returning to my work. I try to focus on the article before me, describing my impressions of all my stunning adventures in Hawaii. I know that I am lucky to be given the opportunity to travel the world on someone else’s dime, but frankly, the most wonderful thing I’ve seen on my whole trip is seated beside me right now. It’s hard to keep my mind and my eyes off her.

I think there’s just a feeling that’s calling to me: I detect a heavy weight of sadness behind her big brown eyes. I feel it as she stares out at the water. It’s a vibration, an energy that resonates with the way I feel. I am overcome with the urge to take it away somehow—to do whatever it takes to make her smile.

Maybe if I tell her about my buddy creating turbulence with his flatulence, she would enjoy that? I thought that was pretty clever, if I do say so myself.

A smile touches my lips slightly. Then it disappears.

No. This sadness runs deep behind her eyes. Like Mauna Kea, buried far inside the ocean. I got to take a good look at the massive mountain peaks, the highest elevation in Hawaii, and the only location on the islands where you’ll find snowstorms. Some authorities consider Mauna Kea to be the tallest mountain in the world, as I learned on my trip, nearly a mile taller than Mt. Everest. But most of it is submerged below sea level.

Like an iceberg—most of it hidden. Most of it unseen.

I spent a long time staring at the parts of the mountain I could see, thinking about it, and taking many photographs for my article. The peaks are considered sacred to the Hawaiian natives, but I was able to visit observatories at the summit for some quality stargazing. I love to explore the stunning, natural landscapes of the world when I travel. The vast geological formations always give me a feeling of being very small. Staring up at a giant mountain, a million years old, climbing it, exploring it, and learning about the history of all the people who have lived there before gives me chills.

But that’s the same feeling I get when I look into Leilani’s eyes.

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