The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

Anything’s Possible

‘Iwa

The following morning, ‘Iwa woke up in semi darkness. She was on her side, facing the window, Dane’s hand resting on her hip. His breaths were deep and even and peaceful. The cawing of crows echoed through the valley, reminding her where she was. No blustery trade winds or cooing doves or roosters. Dane had been true to his word, and fallen asleep spooning her with his cheek in the curve of her neck. It was tender and innocent and made ‘Iwa feel warmly cared for.

She lay there watching the sky lighten, and a few minutes later, Dane stirred. He pulled himself closer and nuzzled his face in her hair, making little contented noises.

“Morning,” he said, all rough and muffled sounding.

“Morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Amazingly well.”

It was true. Being with him in bed for the first time had felt strangely comfortable. Dane felt strangely comfortable, like a favorite blanket or a faded pair of jeans. But his touch made her toes tingle, and heat gathered at every point of contact.

He traced a finger down her arm. “I can’t believe I’m waking up with you.”

“Strange, isn’t it.”

A laugh. “Not strange. Amazing.”

“You kept your end of the deal, so I figured I ought to honor that. Plus—” she paused, unsure how to voice what she was thinking “—the waterfall.”

Dane kissed her neck lightly, breath hot on her skin. “What about the waterfall?” he asked.

“You know,” she said, flushing at the memory of his mouth on her breast.

“I want to hear you say it.”

She rolled over, looking into his eyes. “It felt like we had unfinished business there.”

He drew a breath. “You’re so right about that.”

‘Iwa’s mouth opened and she was about to say something else—what, she had no idea—but Dane kissed her. Small, delicate kisses that made her thighs press together. She was wearing a tiny nightie, and his hand lifted it up, just a little to rest on her upper thigh. The roughness of his palms on her skin dialed up the heat.

Then, on the other side of the bed, a phone began to vibrate loudly on the wooden table. ‘Iwa felt his jaw tighten, but he ignored it. It buzzed again just as his hand had moved its way to the hollow of her hip. ‘Iwa willed it to stop. For a moment it did, but a minute later started up again.

Dane rolled away, groaning and looking at his phone. “Sorry, it’s Kama, I should probably see what’s up.”

“Yo,” he answered, shook his head a few times, then said, “You owe me. I’ll be right there.”

To ‘Iwa. “The ski isn’t starting and Kama forgot that I had the new spark plugs in my truck. I need to run down there. Bad timing—I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m happy just relaxing in bed, since I rarely get to do it back home.”

He leaned over and smoothed down her hair, kissing her again, long and slow. “I’ll make you breakfast and a special latte when I get back. Should be less than an hour. Wait for me, okay?”

She laughed. “Where am I going to go?”

He shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

After a leisurely breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal and fresh berries, Dane took ‘Iwa on a coastal trail that ran along cliffs and down onto endless beaches, where beach breaks pounded and seals lounged high up on the rocks. It was cold, gray and breathtaking. Thankfully there was no rain and no fog and they could see for miles. It was crazy to think you could just keep following this coastline up and down two whole continents, and the expansiveness made her dizzy. The entire Maui coastline would only be about 180 miles. So manini . So small.

“Those are harbor seals, but we also have elephant seals, northern fur seals and sea lions,” Dane explained, when asked one of a thousand questions.

“What’s the difference between a seal and a sea lion?”

He looked surprised. “You don’t know?”

“We have no sea lions where I’m from.”

“Their ears and flippers. Seals have no ear flaps, and sea lions’ flippers can rotate under them, letting them sort of walk on land.”

With only monk seals in Hawai’i, which you maybe saw once or twice a year, ‘Iwa was thrilled by all the pinnipeds.

Most of the area they were hiking in was a marine preserve, and ‘Iwa was impressed at how well maintained it was. Clearly marked trails and plaques and vistas with benches went on and on, seemingly forever. They hiked through gnarled old trees that held plenty of secrets, fields of succulents and rocky outcrops. She kept an eye out for bird nests and feathers. In the monochromatic lighting, it all reminded her of something you’d see in an old photograph, haunting and forlorn.

‘Iwa was bundled for an Antarctic voyage, and still, the chill bit into her. The temps had dropped significantly since yesterday.

“How do you live in this cold?” she asked him as they stopped on a bluff to overlook the sea.

“This? This is nothing.”

Dane was only wearing a long-sleeved shirt, jacket stuffed in his small pack, and seemed immune. Blood ran thicker here on the mainland. She tried to imagine herself living here, walking this coast and studying these plants or animals. Going home to Dane in the evenings. It had its own charm, but she wasn’t sure it could ever feel like home.

“You must be part polar bear,” she said.

“I prefer to think elephant seal.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

He laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter, girl.”

“I see you more sea otter than elephant seal,” she said.

They’re cute and everyone loves them.

They arrived back at the house in the midafternoon and went straight to the hot tub. ‘Iwa had been dreaming of sitting in the steaming waters since the moment the ocean tugged at her feet on the beach.

Dane had warned her. “I know it’s a hard concept to grasp, but here we wear shoes on the beach.”

“That’s sacrilegious.”

“If you go barefoot, those little toes of yours might freeze and crack off.”

She had ignored him and took off her shoes, dodging cracked mollusks and huge clumps of tangled kelp and seaweed, covered in little flying bugs that Dane had told her were kelp flies.

Now she was facing the opposite problem. Sitting on the edge of the hot tub, unable to get in because the water was scalding hot. Dane watched her. He looked harmless enough, until he took off his shirt. The others were still away, and it was just the two of them. All day long, there had been this big unspoken agreement between them, that they weren’t going to talk about anything serious, just enjoy the day. They both stuck to that, fiercely. But now, alone and half clothed, a new tension arose between them.

The setting was outrageous, really. Straight from the pages of a magazine, hanging over a gulch full of conifers, spacious and decorated sparsely with teak furniture and willowy plants. Everything revolved around a giant stone bowl—a gas fire pit, with chairs spread out around it. Whoever owned this house had boatloads of money.

“So what exactly does Yeti do?” she asked, with just her feet soaking in the water.

“He’s a writer.”

“What does he write?”

“Articles for Outside , Inertia , esoteric stuff usually.”

“You two seem close.”

“As close as anyone can get with Yeti. He’s kind of like a friend and a dad and a teacher all wrapped into one. I owe him, big-time.”

Dane had only spoken of his dad once— he was out of the picture , and that was that. It was hard to imagine not growing up with two loving parents by your side every step of the way, and his tight-knit group of friends now made more sense.

“Why is that?” she asked.

“For one, he saved my life. Literally. But he also changed my perspective. Yeti’s this inner warrior kind of guy, and when you spend time with him, it rubs off on you. Before I met him, I thought I was so in tune, so in the groove with mother nature, that nothing could touch me. Yeti was the one who taught me discipline, and how discipline is a kind of worship in and of itself. Up until then, everything came easy to me, you know?

“One day, Yeti dropped off all these books at my house and told me not to call him until I’d read every last one of them. At the time I thought he was crazy. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance , Starlight and Storm —a climbing book, The Old Man and the Sea , Light on Pranayama , a pretty eclectic collection. He left town for a few weeks and when he came back, he asked if I’d read any of them.”

“Had you?”

He wiped his forehead, which was now beading from the heat. “Not a one. I remember the silence on the line, and how loud it was. I’ve never heard anything like it. That night, I started reading. It took me a while to get through them, but I did and now I’ve read each a few times. And every time, I learn some new truth.”

“None to do with surfing?” she said.

“And yet all to do with surfing.”

“Books are magic that way, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “Pure alchemy.”

“So, how did Yeti save your life literally?”

Dane, who was now sitting in the water with steam lifting off his back, floated over to her side. “Sorry, ma’am, but you’ve reached your question quota for the day. Now it’s my turn.”

She laughed. “I know, I know. My dad used to do the same thing. Cut me off when he’d had enough.”

“Curiosity is a beautiful thing,” he said, standing up and placing both hands on her knees, sending a swish below her navel. “You...are a beautiful thing.”

All dripping and steamy and flushed in the face, he leaned in and kissed her. As his hands slid up her thighs, she moved toward him slightly, a flower to the sun. His grip was firm, and he massaged her taut muscles, which had been shivering much of the day, kneading and slowly parting her legs as he made room for his hips.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day,” he said.

It felt like they were resuming where they’d left off at Waikula, dripping wet and drawn together through the invisible pull of water. ‘Iwa stood to meet him, pressing hard against his abs, wanting every square inch of her skin to be touching his.

Dane kissed her harder, and she stood on her tippy-toes, fever building. He tasted like pine forest and clouds, salt and a little bit of chai spiced latte. The kiss made her feel that everything was right in the world. Maybe he’d spend a couple years kissing her, then move on down to her breasts for another few years, and after that, several decades exploring below her waist.

Dane brushed his lips over her ear. “Any chance you could stay a little longer?”

She wished she could. “I have to work on Monday. Next time, give me more warning.”

He set his hands on her shoulders and faced her, so close she could see water droplets on each individual eyelash. “So, there will be a next time?”

She was in up to her teeth and realized in that moment there was nothing she could do but surrender.

“Anything’s possible,” she said.

“Can I get that in writing?” he asked.

In response, she kissed him and gave him a playful bite on the lip. A few minutes later, when ‘Iwa was beginning to feel lightheaded from the heat or maybe from his proximity, the rest of the crew arrived home. Car doors slammed, Dane straightened her bikini top and they sat back up on the side to cool off. A hawk blew in on an air current above, circling, and nearby, a crow screeched.

That night, after a take-out dinner of Indian curry with coconut rice cakes, samosas and spicy mango chutney, Yeti brought two guitars out from the bedroom. He handed one to ‘Iwa.

“I hear you play,” he said. He sat down on the edge of the fireplace, which was crackling and popping and filling the house with the smell of burnt cedar, and began to strum. “Do you know much Crosby, Stills & Nash?”

“Some,” ‘Iwa said.

Actually all, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. When playing with new people, she liked to start off modestly, and let them take the lead. She stayed on the couch, next to Dane, tuned the guitar and joined him. Yeti kept a nice even rhythm, and his elegant fingers moved effortlessly up and down the neck.

“You, who are on the road...” he sang, in a voice that brought to mind whisky and crowded speakeasies.

She sang the next line. “Must have a code that you can live by.”

It took them a few verses to sync up. ‘Iwa used to sing this with her mom. Yeti’s voice had notes of Eddie Vedder and Chris Cornell, but a style all his own.

Dane clapped when they were done. “I told you,” he said to Yeti.

‘Iwa set down her guitar. “But you didn’t tell me. Yeti, thanks for taking me back to a song my mom and I used to play together. You’re amazing.”

“Nah, just playing around.”

“Take the compliment, mate,” Dane said, then to ‘Iwa, “He used to play in a band in the outback when he was in high school.”

“A band in the outback?” ‘Iwa asked.

He winked. “Yeah, me and the dingoes.”

They played on, ‘Iwa enjoying the release after two full days of pent-up feeling. The more time she spent with Dane, the more time she wanted to spend with him. Which made her even more conflicted. Living for the moment had never worked out well for her, and those cracks in her heart still bled sometimes. So what was she really doing here?

Later, ‘Iwa was lying on her stomach on the bed leafing through a book called Ten Poems to Change Your Life . She was so absorbed by one of the poems, that she hadn’t realized Dane had come in, closing the door behind him. He slid in next to her, and she slammed the book shut, but kept a finger in place. The poem was sensual and arousing, and strangely reflected their experience at the waterfall. She felt as though someone had used her entire body to strike a match on.

“Have you read this?” she asked.

“No. Should I?”

“This poem could have been written about us at Waikula.”

“Sounds like my kind of poem,” he said.

“It’s uncanny.”

“I have to admit, most of the poems I’ve read were in school, about fifty years ago. They were about dead people or socks and I had no idea what any of them were really saying.”

“You must have had a shitty English teacher,” she said.

“Either that or I was a shitty student. Will you read it to me?” he asked, drawing circles on her low back with one finger.

She felt too shy to read it. “Here, you read it.”

He studied the page for a few seconds, while ‘Iwa studied the architecture of his face and his chapped lips. This close, she noticed an ever so slight dimple in his chin. His eyes grew wide, and then he set down the book and whistled. “I see what you mean.”

“I wasn’t imagining it, then?”

He leaned in and kissed her, feather light. “If you had been imagining it, I wouldn’t fault you.” Then, in a deep blue voice, he read from the beginning, whipping up her insides like the ocean bottom.

“She sits naked on a rock.” He spoke each word slowly, intimately, giving ‘Iwa plenty of time to conjure up images in her mind. A naked woman on a rock. A naked man picking blueberries. Swallows flying above. By the time he reached the part where the man kneels and the woman opens to him, she was nailed to the bed, unable to move or think. Dane took a breather for a moment, then continued.

“A great maternal pine whose branches

Open out in all directions

Explaining everything.”

The second he finished the poem, Dane tossed the book on the floor. His fingers wove into her hair, pulling her head onto the pillow. Hard, soft, she didn’t know which way was up. His mouth all over hers, her hands all over him. She slid them up his stomach, drawing out goose bumps on his marble-smooth skin, then down to his waist, tracing beneath the carved edges of his obliques.

A sound rose out of her. Somewhere between a cry and a whimper and a moan.

“You,” he said, breathlessly.

His hand began to unbutton her shirt, and when he was done, she wiggled out of it. She held her breath as a heat ran through her. Next, he undid her jeans, moving as though he couldn’t do it fast enough. And he couldn’t. ‘Iwa needed them off. Needed to feel his skin on hers. When she was down to just panties, he pulled back and took off his own jeans, but kept his briefs on.

They stared at each other for a moment, desire blazing, then Dane knelt over her and began to work his way down her body with kisses and love bites. Neck, nipples, ribs, waist, hips, then skipping down to the inside of her thighs. ‘Iwa felt her seams begin to rip. A hot fullness building, ready to spill over.

“I want to taste you,” he said, breath hot on her tender skin.

He ran his finger along the edge of her thong, dangerously close. Her breathing had become shallow and ragged, and the room, it seemed, had lost all its air. Dane was watching her, which for some reason, lit her up even more, and she nodded. Then he pulled the lace to the side and flicked her with his tongue, paused, flicked again, then drew a long, very slow line of fire up her middle. Her knees fell open and she moaned.

“I hope you know that I’m all yours, ‘Iwa,” he said.

She would have told him anything to keep him going at that moment. “I do.”

Replacing his tongue with a finger, he moved back up so he was on top of her, hard as stone.

“You’re killing me—again,” he said.

“I’m already dead.”

Her hips tilted up and she roped a leg around him, pulling him even closer. Their bodies began to move in tandem, ocean surging onto shore, then receding. Every surface of her skin hummed with anticipation, and she grazed his neck with her teeth. Goose bumps formed on his ivory ass.

He panted. “Should we talk about this?”

Talk?

“Definitely not,” she said.

She opened herself wider to him, felt him pressing against her edges, and nothing else in the world mattered.