“Point made,” he said quietly.
“I just…it frustrates me that people look down on me because of my job,” Kenna said. “There are some shitty parts of being a waitress, for sure. My feet always hurt at the end of the night, I have to deal with entitled people who can’t understand why they have to wait longer than two-point-three minutes for their food. They treat me like a servant, give me shitty tips or no tips at all. I’ve been yelled at for refusing to serve alcohol to someone who’s obviously already had enough, screamed at because their food wasn’t to their liking, and even spit on.
“But you know what? The good outweighs the bad. Just as I’m assuming it does for you. I don’t save lives—well, I take that back. I have saved two lives…one was a kid who was choking and the other was a man who’d had a heart attack, and I did CPR until the paramedics got there. But anyway, my job might not be at the top of the importance scale, but I work damn hard, and like I said…the good outweighs the bad.”
Kenna paused for a deep breath. “And now you’re probably regretting coming tonight.”
“No,” Aleck told her. “Actually, I’m even more impressed. You’re pretty damn amazing.”
“Yeah,” she said with a short laugh. “I’ve chastised you for feeling the way I’m sure most people do, have ignored you because I’ve been working, and kinda insulted your own job—which, by the way, is cool, and I want to know everything about it.”
“You’re real,” Aleck told her. “You have no idea how refreshing that is. You rightfully called me on my bullshit, you’re obviously smart, you’re independent, and it’s more than obvious how much the people you work with like you. All that adds up to someone I really want to get to know better. If you can forgive me for being an ass.”
Kenna smiled. “You’re a guy,” she said with a shrug.
Aleck laughed. “I am,” he agreed. “But we’re not all assholes. At least not all the time.”
“I’m thirty years old, Marshall,” Kenna said. “I probably say what I’m thinking more than I should. I don’t have the patience to deal with angst in a relationship…friendship or otherwise. I am who I am, and I want to be around other people who are just as honest. I can’t stand secrets and subterfuge. I’m probably screwing everything up here and jumping the gun, but…I like you.”
“I like you too,” Aleck said immediately. “And I want to see you again.”
“Me too,” Kenna agreed.
They smiled at each other.
“I do work the dinner shift a lot though,” she warned him.
“But not every night.”
“No, not every night.”
“I can work with that,” Aleck told her. “I work during the day. Meetings, training, and there will be times I’ll be deployed for indeterminate periods. But I think you’re worth any effort it takes to work around both our schedules, Kenna.”
She smiled at him. “I’ve got enough seniority here that I can pretty much pick which shifts I want…although I do have to plan ahead.”
“Great,” Aleck said. He was more than aware he was still holding her hand. He hadn’t really been a hand-holder in the past. But with Kenna, the connection felt…good. Especially because he was more than aware he’d almost fucked up.
“Can you see the fireworks the Hilton Hawaiian Village sets off on Friday nights from here?” he asked, steering their conversation back toward a more neutral topic.
“Well, not from the restaurant, no. But if you walk a bit down the beach and sit on the breakwater wall down that way,” she said, pointing down the beach toward the Hilton’s large hotel complex, “you can,” Kenna said. “Is it bad for me to admit that the fireworks don’t do anything for me anymore?”
Aleck chuckled. “Nope. Fireworks aren’t my thing either.”
“Oh, because of PTSD?” Kenna asked in concern.
“No. I mean, that doesn’t help, but we had a dog back home who hated thunder and fireworks. Like, they’d both totally traumatize him. So around the Fourth of July, we had to sedate him in order to help him get through the night, as well as the week before and after. Unfortunately, we had neighbors who bought a shitload of fireworks and would set them off every night. It was awful.”
“Aw, what kind of dog?”
“Doberman.”
Kenna tried not to laugh.
“Yeah, Maximus wasn’t exactly the best guard dog,” Aleck said with a grin. “He would lick someone to death rather than bite them if they broke in.”
“I miss having a pet,” Kenna said. “My dad and stepmom had cats.”
“You could get one,” Aleck suggested.
“My apartment complex doesn’t allow them,” Kenna said simply.
Immediately, Aleck thought about his own place. He had no idea if pets were allowed or not, but he had a feeling if he wanted to get a dog or a cat, he’d be allowed. Living in the penthouse had its perks.
And that thought was how he knew for sure that Kenna was different.
He’d never, ever contemplated getting a pet because of a woman before. His schedule was definitely not conducive to having a dog. A cat…maybe. If he could find someone to check on it while he was deployed.
“Am I allowed to ask how you and your friends got your…unusual names?” Kenna asked.
Aleck chuckled. “Of course. You can ask me anything. I might not always be able to answer your questions…operational security and all. But if I can’t, I’ll tell you why. Anyway, yeah, so my nickname is Aleck. My last name is Smart.”
Kenna laughed. “Smart Aleck, huh?”
“Yup. And I’ll warn you, it fits me pretty well.”
“Noted,” Kenna told him.
“Mustang’s name is kind of complicated, but it involves a prank when he first joined the Navy. Midas was an amazing swimmer in high school and won a bunch of gold medals. Pid’s first name is Stuart—or Stu, for short.”
“Oh, man, that’s harsh,” Kenna said.
“Yeah, nicknames often are. The more someone protests about it, the more it’ll stick,” Aleck told her. “Jag’s first name is Jagger, and Slate’s last name is Stone.”
“So most of your nicknames are because of your real names,” Kenna noted.
“Yeah. They usually come about because of our name or something stupid we did,” Aleck said.
“It’s a good thing I don’t have a nickname based on that,” Kenna quipped. “I’ve done a lot of stupid things.”
“Nope, I don’t believe it,” Aleck said.
Kenna laughed, and once again Aleck was struck by her beautiful smile. It lit up her face. And he loved that she didn’t seem self-conscious about laughing either. Some women he’d known had covered their mouths with their hands while laughing. Or they’d just giggle. Or they’d complain about getting laugh lines on their face. But Kenna’s laugh was genuine.
They sat on the lounge chair for a while longer, talking about nothing important. The amazing Hawaii weather, how impressive surfers were, the necessary evil of tourists in Hawaii, and Kenna told him that it was a personal mission of hers to find the best beaches on the island, even if they weren’t open to the public.