Asher, sitting beside me, snorted into his beer. “Please excuse Faith,” he said to our guests. “As I’m sure you’re aware, she has a slight tendency to exaggerate.”
I gave him a dark look but couldn’t conceal my smile. Asher Mackey’s ridiculous excess of charm and extreme hotness—especially that night, dressed up in a dark button-down and slacks—made it impossible to stay irritated with him.
That’s love for you, I thought, warmth flooding me. Turns you into a sap.
Asher was sitting on the lush carpet with his back to my chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He glanced up at me, and his dark eyes read the thoughts in mine. His own glance mellowed to something warm and soft. For me.
I wasn’t used to having a man look at me with his heart and soul naked and alight in his eyes. My pulse kicked up a notch every time he did it.
Which was frequently.
My ex-fake-fiancé-turned-BFF, Silas Marsh, (long story) and his husband, Max, exchanged knowing smiles from their side of the living room in my Queen Anne condo in Seattle. The city skyline rose up behind them through my bay windows, glittering in the gray light of dusk.
“Anyway,” I said. “I am not exaggerating. That hike was no picnic. There were many drop-offs where one wrong step would most certainly plummet the unwary hiker to her doom.”
Asher smirked. “It’s not that bad a hike. Unless you’re danger-prone and not wearing proper footwear.” He coughed into his fist.
I fixed my man with a hot look. “Who is telling this story? You or me?”
“It’s how we met,” Asher said. “I’m allowed some input. Otherwise, you’re likely to say that a dinosaur popped out of the ferns, or that you saw Big Foot.”
I ignored him and sipped my wine. “Speaking of dinosaurs, this hike was one where they filmed Jurassic Park. Despite my mishap, I still maintain it’s one of the most beautiful spots on earth.”
Asher smiled appreciatively. He loved it when anyone said something complimentary about his adopted home, Hawaii.
“And it’s where I met this big lug,” I said, leaning down to kiss him on his stubbly cheek. “That helps.”
Asher’s hand slid up to my calf. “That makes it my favorite place on earth.”
Damn him.
I wasn’t a fan of things like “emotions” and “feelings” and “being vulnerable to another person because you love them so much you can hardly see straight.”
But here I was.
Silas, ever impatient, shifted on the couch beside Max. “Well? Did you plummet to your doom or not?”
Sweet Max—dark-haired to Silas’s gold; compassionate to Silas’s grouchy—chuckled and sipped his seltzer water. “I’m going to guess no.”
I huffed. “Obviously not. Now all of you hush up and let me tell you what happened.”
ONE
I’VE ALWAYS HATED mud.
Unless I’m paying someone to smear it on my skin in an expensive spa while soaking in a hot bath while essential oils lace the New Age-music-laden air, no thank you. Now, my legs were covered to the knees, and my cute pre-Hawaii pedicure was ruined. Mud squelched between my toes, and I cursed the makers of the sandals I was wearing.
“All-terrain, my ass.”
All along this two-mile hike through one of Kauai’s lush forests, I’d spent more time slipping and sliding while climbing over rocks and tree roots than I had enjoying the scenery and finding my inner peace.
“Just breathe,” I muttered to myself after nearly slipping for the hundredth time. “Almost there.”
The sound of the second of two waterfalls on this trail could be heard rushing through the forest. I imagined sitting on the rocks in front of the falls—just like the picture in the brochure at my rented condo. I’d sit still for a change and quiet my mind. Try to find some mental equilibrium.
I’d come to Kauai alone, to escape the hustle and bustle of Seattle life, and my job at the ad agency. More than just city life, I needed a break from my life. I was stuck in a rut of cocktail parties, meaningless sex, and shopping, peppered with a few hours of work now and then.
And it was frequently wine o’clock.
I lived a perfect life of leisure, made easier by my multi-billionaire BFF, Silas Marsh, bankrolling said lifestyle.
It was time for a change. A revolution. Three solid weeks on the remotest island in Hawaii was just what I needed.
“But this was not in the brochure,” I muttered as I used my walking stick to push my way over a slippery patch of