True to Me - Kay Bratt Page 0,22

up, and Alani threw her arms around her mother’s waist.

“Ah, you’re getting me wet, daughter,” Maria said, laughing. “Let’s go, girls. You need to get into some dry clothes.”

Like a line of chicks behind a mother hen, Quinn and the girls followed Maria up the trail and to the house.

The sand was so soft and deep that it made walking difficult. Yet Maria was fast, nearly walking on top of the sand. An expert, Quinn thought, then remembered that the woman wasn’t much older than she was. She just came across as older because of her sadness and responsibilities.

In the back lanai, the girls stopped at the outdoor shower.

“Rinse, then dry off before you come in the house,” Maria said.

“You can do your feet first, Quinn,” Alani said, moving over.

Quinn slipped off her sandals and rinsed her feet, glad that Alani had mentioned it. She would’ve walked straight into the back door and trailed sand on Maria’s—well, on her own—kitchen floor and made herself look oblivious.

Instead, she tiptoed over to the door and set her shoes next to the pile of others left there, then stepped in.

Kupuna and a man were sitting at the table, the stranger’s back to Quinn.

“Who you got on your crew now?” Kupuna asked him.

Maria cleared her throat. “Liam, let me introduce you to Quinn Maguire. She’s the one who bought the house, and, of course, she’d like to be a part of the conversation.”

Quinn approached, business face on and hand extended. She wasn’t starting off another relationship too friendly like she’d accidentally done with Maria. She knew how to get things done in the corporate world, and she was going to use those skills to turn this into a once-and-done quick project so she could prove to Ethan she was capable. She had also watched enough home improvement shows to know that contractors were notorious for being irresponsible, childish bullies. She would have to assert herself right away.

The contractor pushed his chair back and stood, then turned to face her. Hawaiian for sure, but perhaps of Asian descent too. Whatever his heritage, it made for an interesting blend of features. He was a big man—tall and obviously strong—reminding Quinn of a large oak tree.

He nodded quietly, then took her hand. His was warm. “Very nice to meet you.” A small smile began to spread over his face.

Something wasn’t right. Quinn didn’t get a bully vibe from him, but she did feel a sense of déjà vu.

“Again,” he added, an amused glint in his eyes.

She studied his face, then noticed his arm and the tribal tattoo that snaked around his bicep.

“You’re the surfer,” she said, feeling strangely insecure.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Today I’m a contractor.”

“You two know each other?” Maria asked.

Kupuna was quiet as he rubbed at the table’s scars under his fingers, listening intently.

“No,” Quinn said quickly. “He was just on the resort beach at the same time as I was and asked if I wanted to paddleboard.”

“Why were you out there?” Maria asked him. “You know you don’t like to share the water with the tourists.”

He shrugged. “I needed a change of scenery. Not sure why, I just felt drawn there on my way to Napili Beach. I go where the ocean pulls me.”

Maria narrowed her eyes at him, her expression doubtful.

He ignored her silent reproach and turned his gaze to Quinn.

“I’d like to hear your ideas about the kitchen,” he said to Quinn, finally breaking the awkward silence. He pulled a pad and pen from his shirt pocket, prepared to take notes.

Quinn relaxed. Maria took a chair next to her father, and the contractor—Liam—waited for her to respond. She felt relief. She wasn’t going to have to argue to be able to plan her own kitchen. She started with the shabby Formica surface.

“Okay, I want new countertops for sure. Something not too modern, but definitely more updated than this,” she said, running a hand along it.

“We can do that. Easy,” Liam said. “I suppose you want granite?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You suppose?”

He nodded. “Most of the mainlanders who buy or build here want granite.”

Quinn turned to Maria. “What do you think, Maria? I don’t want to be like most of the mainlanders.”

Maria didn’t reply. She looked thoughtful.

Realization flooded through Quinn. “Oh, Maria, I’m so sorry. How insensitive to ask your opinion when this is your house I’m remodeling for me.”

Maria smiled. “No, it’s fine. I’m happy to give my opinion. I love this house, and it deserves to be brought back to