Page 39 of Just My Luck

“Dave…Dave got hurt.”

She instantly switched into mama-bear mode. “Where is he?”

“He’s lying down on the back seat of the Jeep. I tried to drive it but I got stuck in the wet sand. I was going to run for help but then I saw Jim and that car.”

Zara didn’t waste any breath scolding Mia for surfing on a day like this. She wasn’t even wearing her rash guard. They all dashed to the Jeep and Mia opened the door to reveal poor Dave bleeding from a gash on his head. A towel wrapped around it was nearly soaked through with blood.

“I told him it was too dangerous!” wailed Mia. “As soon as I saw the waves I said, no way. But he went anyway. I had to paddle out and rescue him.”

Zara’s blood went cold as she pictured the scene. “I don’t want to hear any more details until we get Dave to the hospital. Come on, we’ll have to carry him.”

She and Lincoln took care of that, while Mia bopped alongside them clearing away obstacles. Flying branches from the kiawe trees, cracked coconut husks, that sort of thing.

Lincoln didn’t say a word of concern about some Hawaiian kid bleeding all over his fancy Mercedes. Another point in his favor, she supposed. They raced back to the barricade, where he spoke another few words to the police officer.

This time she saw exactly what he gave the man—a hundred-dollar bill.

“You bribed a police officer?” she hissed at him as they raced toward the emergency room of the Kona Community Hospital. After a pause, she added, “thank you,” in a much meeker voice. Who was she to take the moral high ground here? Her father was in jail for much worse than that.

She’d pay him back, she vowed. As soon as she got another job.

18

Mia’s reckless surfer friend was admitted to the hospital for an overnight stay for monitoring. By the time the doctors had made that determination, everyone was exhausted, including Lincoln.

Zara called her friend Marley to check in on Eddie. He had fallen asleep after a dinner of tacos and was safely tucked into bed. Zara’s eyes had deep shadows underneath, and poor Mia looked vaguely like a drowning owl with her smudged mascara. The rain was still coming down hard, and night had fallen, which would make driving conditions even worse.

So he took a deep breath and invited them to stay in his hotel suite that night. “My suite had three bedrooms, so there’s plenty of room,” he told Zara.

She was apparently drained enough to accept without much hesitation. “But you’re going to have to explain to Mia why you’re staying in the third-most expensive hotel in Kona,” she murmured. “I’m running on fumes here.”

They drove to the Seaside Paradise in exhausted silence. When he handed the keys to the valet and helped Mia out of the Mercedes, he said, as casually as he could, “Mia, I should inform you that I’m not actually a gardener. My name is Lincoln Kerr.”

She blinked at him through drenched eyelashes. Not only had she dove into the ocean to rescue her friend, but she’d run through torrential rain several times. Her eyelashes might never dry.

“Okay…” she said dubiously. “And you can afford a place like this?”

“I can.”

“And you want us to stay here? Don’t you know about our family?”

“They’ll be lucky to have you here,” he said gallantly. “You’re a hero. You probably saved Dave’s life.”

“Oh, I definitely did.” She brightened at that praise and stole a sidelong glance at Zara, who still hadn’t said much. Lincoln knew she must be feeling all sorts of things—anger at Mia’s impulsive actions, pride in her bravery, relief that her only injury was from a sea urchin spine embedded in the side of her foot.

Zara said nothing, simply gestured for her to precede them into the hotel.

The two of them stood, dripping water onto the marble lobby floor, while Lincoln added them to his reservation and got key cards for them.

“Are you hungry?” he asked them. He didn’t wait for an answer; of course they were. He told the concierge to send up burgers and fries for everyone. The kitchen was already closed, but a stack of hundred-dollar bills took care of that.

He smiled to himself as he thought that bribery was the only thing he used cash for anymore. There was nothing like handing over hundreds to pave your way.

Zara had seen the whole thing, but made no comment. Maybe she didn’t mind him stepping in to take care of her sister.

In the penthouse suite, Mia spent some time twirling around, oohing and ahhing over the three big-screen TVs, the extensively stocked minibar, and the view of…well, mostly of rain lashing the windows. Then she disappeared into the shower.

Lincoln stood by the window, watching the fury of the cyclone outside the glass. He’d never seen anything quite like this storm. Or anything quite like Zara when she emerged from her own shower with her hair freshly toweled off, hanging in loose damp waves past her shoulders. She’d changed into the fluffy white bathrobe provided by the hotel.