Page 22 of One Night in Hawaii

9

ARCHER

Iwoke up with a pounding headache, the remnants of last night’s drinking. As I groggily tried to sit up, I noticed that my right hand felt stiff and sore. Ah, yes, the aftermath of the altercation. The guy who had slapped Shiloh’s ass last night deserved a taste of his own medicine, but it wasn’t my proudest moment. It wasn’t just my hand that was feeling a little stiff. My whole body was sore. That was the result of the surfing and face plants I did on the ocean floor.

Just as I was wincing at the discomfort in my hand, a knock on the bedroom door broke the silence. Penelope poked her head in with a smirk on her face. “You look like crap,” she joked, her sarcasm not lost on me.

I managed a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, sis. Always great to get a warm welcome in the morning.”

Penelope walked into the room and perched herself on the edge of my bed. She was the complete opposite of me—outgoing, spontaneous, and full of life. We couldn’t be more different, but she was my sister, and I loved her. I was the straight and narrow one with alarms on my phone that went off all day. I ran my life by a calendar.

“So, care to share the gory details of last night’s shenanigans?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed, feeling a mix of regret and embarrassment. “What have you heard?”

“Nothing, but I know the way a hangover looks and—” She stopped and grabbed my hand. “Did you hit something?”

“Some dude.”

“You hit some dude!” Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Are you serious? How much did you drink?”

“I wasn’t really that drunk. Some dude was fucking with Shiloh. He slapped her ass after she rejected him. It wasn’t cool.”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “Were you jealous?”

“No, I just didn’t think it was cool for some asshole to do that.”

“Of course not,” she said, smiling. “But, you know, there are better ways to handle these things. You could’ve just called the bouncer or something. I don’t think I’ve ever known you to get into a bar fight.”

“I know, I know,” I muttered, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “I guess I let my emotions get the best of me. I saw her jump and it made me see red.”

My sister patted my shoulder. “You’re lucky that you didn’t get hurt worse. And that you didn’t get arrested. Did you hurt the guy?”

“Actually, no one seemed to give a shit. Ryder, her friend, was right there to back me up. The bartender didn’t bat an eye. Everyone just kept drinking and talking. No one called the police. Nothing. It was kind of weird.”

“You’re lucky,” she said. “If you would have hurt the guy, he would have found out who you were and sued your ass. You know how people act when they find out who you are and how much money you have.”

“I know, I know,” I groaned. “It happened before I could even think about it. One minute I was eating a very average hamburger and the next I was stopping myself from pummeling the man.”

“I never thought I would have to be giving you this lecture,” she teased. “But I’m glad. It means you’re coming out of that hard shell you have built around yourself.”

“My hard shell is perfectly intact,” I shot back. “And I don’t have a hard shell. I have a healthy awareness of who I am and what I’m meant to do. I know people want to get close to me to get to my money. My hard shell has saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Ashley,” she said gently. “That hard shell didn’t protect you from that maneater.”

“That was different, and you know it.”

Penelope stood up. “Well, how about some coffee and painkillers to start your day of recovery?” she suggested. “Don’t think this little setback is going to be an excuse to sulk. You’re getting your ass out there in the sunshine. I’ll make the coffee.”

“That sounds like a lifesaver,” I replied, grateful for her caring nature. We argued, but we were close. She knew me, the real me. She knew how our parents could be and why I had to put the hard outer shell in place.

“I don’t deliver. I’ll be in the kitchen.” That was the last thing I heard as she walked out of the room.

I got up and pulled on a pair of sweats. I needed some serious caffeine. I walked into the kitchen and sat down at the bar with my laptop in front of me.

“Drink up, tough guy,” Penelope teased, though there was a softness in her tone. She gave me a cup of coffee and a couple of Advil.

I took the painkillers gratefully and sipped the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through my body. As the headache eased, I couldn’t help but be grateful for my sister’s presence. “Thank you.”

---