No Ordinary Love (A Modern Vintage Romance #5)

Chapter 1

Dean

O f all the suites in all the resorts in all the world, she walks into mine...in a maid's uniform. For a moment, I wondered if I should ignore her and pretend I didn't see her, but that would be a dick move. Just because I was in a luxury resort with my new fiancée and an ex-fling was cleaning my room didn't mean I had to turn into someone with amnesia.

I was on the balcony, and she'd stepped out, a dusting cloth in hand, when she froze, seeing me.

"Elika," I smiled at her.

She looked at me, and I was struck as I had been four years ago by how stunning she was. Dark hair tied away from her face, smooth caramel skin kissed by the sun, and deep brown eyes that held a quiet intensity, as if she could see right through me. There was a natural grace to the way she moved, even in the plain hotel maid's uniform, as if no job—no matter how menial—could dull the quiet strength and beauty she carried. Her full lips, though pressed into a neutral line, hinted at the warmth and laughter I remembered. But now, there was something else—an edge of weariness.

How old was she, I tried to recollect? She was around three to four years younger than me, so she was probably about twenty-six or so now to my thirty.

"Dean," she replied and nodded with a small smile.

"Wow! I…it's a surprise seeing you here." But it didn't look like she was surprised, and that made me wonder if she'd known I'd be here.

"Welcome to Hale Moana Resort," she said, giving me the canned company line. I noticed that the laughter that had been part of her then was gone.

"When did you move here from Honolulu?" I asked her.

"A while back." She brushed past me to walk into the bedroom. The suite, well, actually a bungalow, had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a pool, and a view to die for.

The resort was nothing short of paradise—a hidden enclave of luxury bungalows set along Kauai's pristine coastline, each one tucked discreetly behind lush tropical gardens, facing out onto private stretches of white sand beaches. The bungalows themselves were masterfully designed, with floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed the Pacific breeze to slip through, rich teak wood finishes, and oversized lanais that gave the illusion of floating above the ocean. They were built for the wealthy—people who came here for months at a time, as Felicity, my fiancée's family, did every year.

The place exuded old-money opulence, the kind of understated luxury that whispered rather than shouted. Felicity's parents owned half a dozen of these bungalows and had been coming here for decades. Every winter, they would spend weeks on the island, mixing business with leisure, hosting quiet, exclusive gatherings for their most important clients.

I met Felicity because her family company, Thatcher Art Consulting business, fit perfectly with mine. While I headed Asia for Archer's Art who knew? A part of me had wanted to throw that money in his face. But two days after he left, Daddy crashed the car, and since I was in no position to throw money away—my needs were bigger than my pride. In fact, when your life skids off into a ditch, the first thing to go is pride because that doesn't pay the bills or feed you.

During weak moments, I'd seek information about Dean. Google had told me he had a PhD in Asian Art History and was an expert in classical Chinese ink paintings and Japanese Edo-period woodblock prints. He specialized in rare, historic pieces that only the wealthiest collectors could afford.

Leilani: And?

I quickly typed a response.

Me: Didn't expect to actually see him, though.

The dots appeared almost immediately, and then Leilani's reply came through.

Leilani: OMG! Want to talk?

I hesitated, staring out at the waves beyond the bungalow. I could already feel the tension building in my chest, the familiar knot that had formed the second I laid eyes on him again. After four years, Dean was suddenly back in my world—and I wasn't sure if I was ready to handle it.

Well, Elika, fake it till you make it. If you keep pretending you're over him, then you will be over him.

Me: No need. I'm fine. I just need to finish my shift.

I could imagine Leilani frowning at her phone, probably already figuring out how to corner me later with coffee and questions.

Leilani: Drinks tonight. And don't even think about saying you've got a headache.

I laughed.

Me: I thought that was the excuse you married women used to not fuck your husbands.

Leilani: Girl, you've seen my hubs. I'll fuck him ALL the time. But we have to work.

Me: LOL . Still can't. I have a shift at Ke Kai.

Thinking about it made me sigh. Three days a week, I worked at the restaurant in the resort from six to midnight. Those were my long days. But with Noe's costs going beyond what her insurance would cover, I was carrying the extra burdens because she couldn't. Thankfully, my health insurance was paid for by the resort, so I didn't have that added expense, but I had to shoulder all of Noe's premiums. Granted, I had a small place I rented at the edge of the resort, part of a set of cottages built for employees. But they were bare bones—one bedroom, a tiny kitchen with barely enough room to turn around, and furniture that had probably been in there since the place was built. It wasn't much, but it was close to work, and I could pay for it without dipping into what I needed for Noe.

There were nights when the walls felt like they were closing in, especially after a long shift, so I'd sit on the beach, go for a swim in the warm waters, and let the Pacific Ocean take my worries away.

I loved living in Hawaii. I couldn't live anywhere else. My soul belonged to these beautiful islands.