“I can’t say, but Se?ora Carla loved your sons, which means your mother loves her grandsons. We take risks and do things we can’t necessarily explain for those we love.”
Natalya’s statement couldn’t be truer. James has been guilty of that on more than one occasion. He feels like a hypocrite when he says, “But she lied to them.”
“That bothers you.”
“Immensely.” Because he lied to Aimee for years about his family, and look where that got him. He yanks a hibiscus flower off the bush they pass and twirls the stem. “You?”
“Yes, but . . . I understand why she did what she did. Carlos wouldn’t have let her near them had she told him the truth. I also don’t think she visited just to see them.”
“No?” He spins the flower stem.
“She spent most of her time with you, James. She was there to see you. You’re her son, a son she thought had died. I assume Thomas eventually got around to telling her about you. Can you imagine how she felt?”
“They aren’t talking. Not regularly, not like they used to.”
“No surprise there.”
A breeze moves between them, ripe with rain and heavy with salt. Natalya stops near the bottom step of the stairs that lead up to the lanai. She turns to him. “I assume you love your sons since you aren’t giving them to me.”
“Unconditionally.”
“I told Carlos you would.” She briefly smiles, then absently scratches at the wood banister rail with a fingernail. “I remember Carlos telling me how nervous Carla was around you during her first visit to Mexico. Imagine how you’d feel learning Julian or Marcus was still alive after you buried your child’s body. That’s emotionally intense.”
She has a point. “I still don’t trust her.”
Natalya takes the flower he’s mutilating and tucks it over her ear. “Give it time. She’s your ohana, your family, and ‘family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.’”
His mouth twitches. He tugs another flower off the bush beside his thigh. “You’re quoting Lilo & Stitch to me?”
“Very good. I’m impressed.”
“I have a six-year-old.”
“Yes, you do.” She cups his hand in hers, silently asking for the flower. He gives it to her and she tucks it over his ear. The tickle of petals across his cheekbone, the barely there touch of her fingers against sensitive skin, and her warm breath on his chin have him sharply sucking air. Sensations shoot through his body, waking him up as though he’d been hibernating for years. She looks at the flower, then at him, and smiles brilliantly. He blushes like a teenager and guilt drips through him like paint spooling off the tip of a brush.
Aside from Aimee and their frenzied, gut-wrenching parting several days ago, he hasn’t been touched or kissed by a woman in longer than he can remember. That hug with Kristen doesn’t count. It was completely platonic and quite awkward. Then there are the stiff-armed hugs he gets from Marcus, who seems to break the contact faster than he makes it. Aside from those, James hasn’t really been hugged by another human being, let alone held by a woman, in what seems to him like years.
Oxygen shuttles from his lungs. He touches the flower. “Thanks.” His voice is strained, heavy with emotion he barely understands.
This time Natalya blushes. “So . . . why are you here?”
He cocks a brow. “Vacation?”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
A gust of wind sends a chill across his skin. He suddenly feels tired, bone-weary, as though he hasn’t slept in months, which he hasn’t. He was either worrying about keeping his sons safe, or how their upheaval would affect them in the long term, or how to nurture their father-and-sons bond. He isn’t a bad guy and is tired of them treating him as such. But right now, he just wants to sleep for days. Surprisingly, here, in Hawaii, with his brothers thousands of miles away and Natalya by his side, he finally feels as though he can do so. He feels like he’s in a safe place.
It dawns on him as to the root reason he brought his sons here, and it’s much less complicated than the impulse to flee Phil until he can get his bearings or to avoid Thomas from hounding him about a three-hour time block he may never recapture. Quite simply, James came to Kauai because he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t have anyone to turn to who completely understood what was not just going on around him, but what was wrong with him. He has no one except Natalya. Maybe he can find comfort in that thought. Or, maybe he’s only seeking her friendship. He has yet to find whatever he’s looking for, but perhaps he can find it here, in paradise, with the help of a woman who is neither a stranger nor a lover, but for the moment, simply his ohana.
It starts drizzling and Natalya turns her face to the sky. “It’s going to pour. Let’s go inside.”
In the kitchen, James drops the bottles into the recycling bin. He yawns deeply. “I’m going to turn in. Thanks for the beer, and the talk.”
“Sure, that was nice.” She glances toward the stairs that lead down to the first level. “I hope you don’t mind I put you in my office. My dad is expected back soon and we usually meet there to catch up when he returns from his business trips. I can have the boys bunk together and move you up to one of their rooms if we become too intrusive.”
“I should be fine.” She had him on a pullout sofa in her office. She’d made the bed and left out towels and soap for the adjoining bathroom.
“Do you have everything you need?”
“I think so.” He starts moving toward the stairs, then stops. “Thanks for letting us stay.”
Natalya is staring at him, watching as he leaves. Her shoulders rise and fall on a long breath; then her eyes lift and meet his. “Of course, you’re family.”
“Ohana.”
She smiles. “Yes, ohana.” She twists her hands.
The gesture makes him uneasy. “Everything all right?”
She nods and circles a hand as though erasing her thoughts. “You move like him. I mean, you move like yourself. I guess I expected there to be more of a difference than just your names.”
“We are different. I bet by tomorrow evening you’ll kick me out because I’m too much of a snob for you.” He points at his collared shirt.
She laughs. “I doubt that. But, speaking of tomorrow, I have work to do. I hope you don’t mind that I have to encroach on your space.”
“Not at all. I’ll take the boys exploring.”
“Well . . . um . . . good night, then.” She moves toward the hallway that leads to her room.
“Good night, Natalya.” James watches her go. Carlos would have kissed her good night. Or taken her to her room. Made love to her until they crashed, gasping and sweaty, on rumpled sheets. He read those passages multiple times, often wondered how different Carlos was in bed. Would Natalya sense the difference should she close her eyes?
He inwardly groans. Why is he even thinking of sleeping with her? They just met.
With a tinge of embarrassment, he scratches at the back of his head and turns away.
“James?”
He swings back around.
“Julian told me you’re leaving him and Marcus here.”