17. Kai

SEVENTEEN

Parents often give middle names just so that later,

when they're yelling at the kid, they can drag it out.

‘Henry David Thoreau,

you come in here this instant!'

~ Paul Reiser

Mila steps onto the porch, leaving the inn unattended. Her guests know they can come and go, and she leaves a sign dangling on the reception desk that says, "Back in …" with the amount of time she estimates she'll be gone. On days when Chloe's cleaning, Mila runs errands. And, when Mila's here alone, she locks the kitchen and shuts down the computer before she leaves. Otherwise, she doesn't think twice about taking a break with me.

I stand from the porch swing and walk over to her, instinctively placing my palm on her back in a way I never would have a week ago.

"Are you okay?" I study her face for a sign of what she might hide with words.

"Yeah. I think so. Don't worry about me."

"I'll worry if I want to. You're not the boss of me, Mila … What's your middle name anyway?"

"My middle name?"

"Yeah. It sounds better if I can say Mila June Mitchell, when I'm telling you that you're not the boss of me."

We head down the porch steps together and I let my hand fall off Mila's back once we're walking.

"June?" She scrunches up her nose in this adorable way that gives a glimpse of what she must have looked like growing up.

"Not June?"

"No." She giggles, which makes me want to continue bantering with her.

Anything to lift the mood I caught her in when I walked in on her phone call with Brad.

"July?"

She laughs harder. "No!'

"January?" I wink at her. "February? March? Now that would be a name. Alliteration freaks would go mad for a name like that. Mila March Mitchell. Say that five times fast."

She tries and bursts into more laughter when "Mitchell" comes out "Mishell." And then the words get even more jumbled from there.

"MeeyaMarMimshell." She pauses in the street and places her hand on my shoulder. "Wait! Wait! I can do it. Give me another chance."

"Okay, Meeya. Go for it." My smile feels so full it reaches into my chest and fills it with a warm bubbly feeling I don't think I've ever felt before.

Mila starts saying, "Mila March Mitchell," but her lips are pursing and she's enunciating every syllable so intentionally with the effort to get it right. "Mee-lah March Mitch-ell. Mee-lah March Mitch-ell."

I start to imitate her and she bursts into another bout of giggles.

"No fair! You can't mock me in the middle of this challenge."

"I didn't know there were rules."

"There are," she says, trying to make her face serious, but utterly failing.

Mila's laughter only serves to fuel me. "April, May? Oh. There's another winner. Mila May. It makes you sound southern."

"Well, I declay-ah," Mila says with a perfect lilt that reminds me of Gone With the Wind, a classic movie Summer made a bunch of us watch with her a few months ago. She's obsessed with old films.

"You can't just go using an accent like that on a man without warning," I tease. Or at least it's meant to sound teasing. My voice comes out deeper and slightly scratchy. She affects me. There's no denying it. I just have to work around the fact—for her sake.

Mila looks up at me, her cheeks going suddenly pink. I stare down at her, unable to force myself to look away from her warm brown eyes and the light freckles dusting her nose, her rosy lips, the curve of her cheeks, the way her wavy hair frames her face.

I shake my head. "Okay. Not a month?"

"Maybe," she teases. "You haven't asked if it's October."

"Is it?"

She smiles up at me. "'Fraid not."

"Hmmm. Food? Is it a food item? Mila Burger Mitchell? Mila Gummy Bear Mitchell?"

She puffs out a laugh and shakes her head.

"Mila Pizza Mitchell? That's a fave. If it's not your name, I think you ought to consider a legal change. Noah would be in heaven."

"In that case, it should be Mila Snickerdoodle Mitchell." She says it so matter-of-factly.

"Maybe so, but since it's my turn to guess … and it's obviously not Snickerdoodle … Hot Dog?"

She literally rolls her eyes. But her lips bend into an amused grin.

"Yesssss!" I turn to her, stopping in my tracks. "I nailed it! Mila Hot Dog Mitchell."

"You're ridiculous." The way her mouth turns up and her eyes crinkle does things to me. Things I should avoid—especially with Mila.

"Hot Dog," I insist, attempting to keep things light so my heart will get the message. "I obviously nailed it and you don't want to admit how clever I am at figuring out middle names. I'm the middle name master. Say it."

I grin down at her.

"You're the middle name master." She glances sideways in my direction, and her playful grin nearly levels me.

Okay, bad idea to ask her to call me that.

We turn onto the street where Sebastian's is three shops up, situated between the bookshop and a place that does a travel and tour business, but also offers photography and dog sitting. Small island life at its finest.

"It's Rose." Mila's face blushes softly again.

"Rose."

I know my voice comes out with a reverent note. It just fits her. Mila Rose Mitchell. Why did I even ask?

"Well, I'm going with Hot Dog." I wink over at her.

Then I open the door to Sebastian's so Mila can pass through.

And when her vanilla and cinnamon scent swirls up around me, I nearly confess, Mila Rose Mitchell, I think you might be the death of me.

I barely see Mila the whole next week. We've had snorkeling tours, surf lessons, kayak rentals, and a few night rides on the glass-bottom boat along the shoreline to keep us busy. I'm assuming Brad has left Mila alone since his call announcing his plans to buy an entire cove of the island.

Who does that?

Brad. That's who.

Saturday I'm at the shack early, waiting for my next surf lesson with Noah. My sister and Bodhi are due back in town this evening after an international flight from Portugal and the ferry ride back to Marbella. Their two-week trip is coming to a close. I'm happier than I'll let on to have them back. I haven't minded the time alone, but I like my house better when they're in it. And it's been an unusual two weeks. Maybe them being back will help bring things back to some semblance of normalcy.

Shaka's trailing behind me from spot to spot in the shop as I straighten merchandise. Ben's singing, "Me and My Shadow," and chuckling at my misfortune. This dog. I turn and look at him. He sticks his tongue out and pants at me from his seated position just behind where I'm standing.

"What?" I ask the mutt.

"Just love me!" Ben says in a cartoon-dog voice.

"Are you on the clock, or just hanging out here?"

"Both?" Ben laughs.

"Do something besides turning my morning into a live-action Disney movie."

"Awww, but he loves you so much. Just pet him and I'll stop. I'll even tag the new merch. Just pet Shaka." Ben starts chanting, "Pet him! Pet him! Pet him!" with his hands cupped around his mouth.

Jamison walks in with a rightfully confused expression on his face.

"Pet him? What exactly is going on in here? Or should I ask?"

"Nothing." Ben smiles over at Jamison. "I'm just trying to get Kai to give Shaka some love."

"Ahhh." Jamison looks at me. "Are you allergic?"

"I wish," I grumble.

I'm not a grumpy man. Serious? Yes. Sometimes I'm up in my head a bit more than the guys around me. To be fair, I'm surrounded by surfers. It's a chill community and we tend to be an easygoing culture. I tend to be the leader, and I watch out for everyone. That makes me less free flowing than guys like Bodhi and Jamison. And then … Ben … Ben is on the other end of the spectrum from me. Nothing gets that guy down. He's like a living, breathing one-man party bus.

Jamison shakes his head and walks to the back of the shack toward the back door. He's got a stand-up paddleboard lesson at the same time as I'm taking Noah out surfing.

Ben crosses his arms over his chest as if he's not budging until I pet the dog. So, I bend down and scratch Shaka behind his ears.

"Good boy," I say in a neutral tone.

The tail starts going anyway, even though I obviously wasn't putting any emotion behind my words.

"There. Was that so hard?" Ben asks.

"Honestly? Yes."

Ben chuckles.

Mila and Noah come bounding into the shack. Well, Mila doesn't bound. She's walking in with her beach bag over her shoulder and a soft smile on her face, and when she aims that smile at me, I go a little weak. It's ridiculous. I'm a man. And we're faking. But she's Mila. What can I say?

"We're here!" Noah shouts as if his entrance weren't already an event.

"Heyyyy! Look who's here!" Ben shouts.

"Mila, looking lovely today," he adds.

Why that makes me want to go put my arm around her is beyond me. She's not mine.

She's not mine.

She's not mine.

Maybe if I repeat it enough, I'll remember.

Mila smiles at Ben and says, "Good morning." Then she looks across the shop toward me and in an unusually shy voice she says, "Hi, Kai."

I smile at her. "Hey."

"Hey, Ben!" Noah shouts. "Are you coming out with us?"

"I wish I could. Someone has to hold down the fort in here while Kai has all the fun. That happens to be me today."

"Awwww," Noah pouts.

He turns to Jamison. "What about you, guy?"

"I'm Jamison. And I've got a paddleboard lesson."

"That's my next thing I'm going to learn too," Noah announces. "Right, Mom?"

"We'll see." Mila smiles.

Shaka trots over to Noah's side and Noah bends to ruffle Shaka's fur.

"Hey, Shaka! You're a good dog," Noah says. "Are you working today?"

Noah laughs at his own joke.

"Would you rather surf with Ben?" I offer, sincerely.

Mila's eyes go wide for the briefest moment. I instantly recognize my error.

"That is, if your mom says yes."

"Uhhhh …" Noah stammers.

Mila nods at me and Ben to let us know she's alright with a switch.

"Tell you what," I suggest. "You and I will go out as planned so you can buff up your skills, and then I'll cut the lesson short by a little so you still have energy to show your moves to Ben. He can take over at the end and you two can surf together. Sound good?"

"Yeah!" Noah shouts. "Only you don't have to cut it short, Unko. I've got plenty of energy."

"I'll say," Mila says softly with a look of adoration aimed at Noah.

"Okay then, boss man, let's get in the water."

"I'm ready!" Noah looks at Ben. "Kai calls me boss man. He's your boss, right?"

Ben nods. "Yep. He's the man in charge. I do whatever he says."

I mutter, "If only."

"That means I'm the boss of the boss of you!" Noah says, cracking himself up.

"Man. You're awfully young to be so powerful, but I'm not arguing with the boss of the boss of me." Ben smiles at Noah. "I'm at your service."

Ben bows as if he's approaching the king, and Noah's peals of laughter fill the shop.

"I'll see you at the end of my lesson, worker," Noah says to Ben as we walk out to grab his wetsuit from the rental rack.

Ben's laughter follows us out the door.

"Tell him to get busy tagging merchandise," I say to Noah.

Noah repeats my instructions, shouting them in a commanding voice into the shop, and Ben cackles.

"Oh, man! Don't listen to Kai, Noah. He's a bad influence!"

I get Noah suited up and he and I walk toward the waves with Mila strolling alongside us. I already put the boards out on the sand earlier this morning.

We're in the water for about forty minutes, Noah picking up right where he left off. Ben comes paddling out just as we promised, and I take a wave in once I know Ben's got Noah.

When I hit the shore, I shake the water out of my hair and pull my board up onto the sand. Then I join Mila where she's got a blanket spread out just beyond the edge of the shorepound. Shaka's on one side of her, laying on the blanket like he owns the whole beach.

"He did great," I tell her.

"I'm so grateful to you for teaching him. It's his dream, and I wouldn't want anyone else to be the one."

She pats the blanket. "Want to sit?"

"I'm soaked. I'll get your blanket all wet."

"That's what beach blankets are for. Come on. Have a seat."

I nod and settle in beside her. Shaka stands up and comes to my side.

I give him a gentle nudge trying to coax him into going back to Mila's side, but he ignores me and lays down right next to me, half on the blanket, half in the sand.

"That's going to mean a shower for you," I tell him. "Wet dirty dogs don't get in my bed."

"Your bed, huh?"

"Don't ask."

Mila smiles warmly, but to her credit, she doesn't push the subject like Ben does. Then she digs into her bag and pulls out a granola bar and a juice box.

"Here. Have a snack."

I chuckle. How many years has it been since I had a juice box?

"Thanks. I'm not taking Noah's food, am I?"

"I've got plenty."

I open the wrapper and pop the straw in the juice, and we both fix our eyes on the waves where Ben and Noah are taking ride after ride, settling on their boards next to one another between sets. From here, they look like two black wooden bobs in the water, but we can tell it's them. One taller than the other, their faces turned in so they can talk while they wait for the next wave.

The silence between me and Mila is comfortable. She puts me at ease. Always has.

I'm watching Noah get up on a bigger wave than any he's taken so far when a voice behind me asks, "Is that Noah?"