"I still don't know why we have to leave so early," he complained.
"Abby, thanks so much for being my personal tour guide around the island today even though it totally isn't your job and I'm an angry morning person. I really appreciate it," I said in an exaggerated deep voice, telling him what he should have been saying to me. It made him laugh.
"I don't fucking sound like that," he said as he put shoes on.
"You've been nothing but grouchy since I got here," I teased.
“Well, you should catch me after twelve next time. I’m great in the afternoon. Where are we going?”
“You might want to grab everything you need now, we aren’t going to be back till the sun goes down,” I warned instead of answering his question.
“Are we going swimming or something? Because I’m eighty-sixing anything I have to take my clothes off to do,” he said.
I shrugged, smiling because I didn’t want to give anything away. We weren’t swimming, but he was going to have to be a little more enthusiastic about having a good time today or else it wouldn’t work.
“Let’s go,” I said grandly, letting him lead the way out the door.
Since I had brought Nate breakfast in bed, we had skipped finding somewhere to eat and I had taken him to see Sweetheart Rock before we drove into the city. We stopped for coffee before going by Kaunolu Village.
Most people who came to stay on the island tended to stay at one of the resorts. Since they offered so many things for people to do, they ended up leaving the island having barely scratched the surface of what it had to offer.
Archaeological sites dotted the entire island – some centuries old, some just ruins from the 20th Century. Nate had had a good enough time at Keahiakawelo, and there was nothing I was giving him taking him to the golf course, so I picked places a little more off the beaten path. He was a little hard to read, but he hadn’t complained. He hadn’t seemed sick at all, either – both good things.
By mid-afternoon, we had stopped in the city for lunch, the spot Makani’s friend owned. Nate was looking at his plate, frowning.
"What did you say this was?" he asked.
"Loco Moco," I said. He wedged his fork under the fried egg and lifted it, looking underneath.
"I don't think these things are all supposed to be eaten at the same time together," he said.
"Don't knock it till you try it," I said. He looked at me, then back at the plate. I watched him, stifling a laugh as he tried some, gingerly feeding himself a mouthful. “So?” I asked.
“It’s really good,” he admitted. I sat back in my seat, satisfied.
“Better than hotel food?”
“A lot better,” he said, eating. “After a while, it’s just too much, you know? It’s like having cake every day when all you want is ramen noodles and water.”
“Nobody’s making you stay at the hotel. You can leave whenever you want if you want to eat out,” I said.
“Are you going to come with me?” he asked.
“If you want me to,” I shrugged. “If I have to leave work anyway; I might as well get fed in the process,” I said, trying not to give away how excited the thought made me.
I was in a complicated place. Entertaining a celebrity while he had his island holiday was what it was ostensibly, but all these hours alone together, all these tours to secluded spots… This had trouble written all over it.
I had thought previously that there was no way I was getting my wires crossed, but now I knew I was wrong. I was still working and that meant I had to be professional, but that didn’t mean I stopped feeling the way I did.
This was the man who wrote those songs I loved. Nate. He wasn’t a big star, untouchable and aloof. He was a guy who was talented and funny who I was going to have a really hard time not falling for.
We finished our lunch and left the restaurant.
“Back to the hotel?” he asked.
“Tired already?” I challenged. “We have one more stop." I climbed into the car.
"Another one? This place is so small; how many secret spots do you know?" he asked. I shrugged.