Author's note: It's a new modern CS AU! Yay! Not sure if every chapter will be quite this long but I hope you enjoy it! It was a lot of fun to write. Based on a Tumblr prompt, and inspired by the movie Ever After, with Drew Barrymore (I love that movie!). There's a bit of bouncing between perspectives, hopefully it's not too hard to follow. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Ha, that's funny.

Chapter One

"We're about a half hour out, Miss Nolan."

Emma scowled as the intercom crackled, her eyes blinking against the bright Hawaii sun, which was impressive because the windows of the limo were tinted. She fumbled for the button and tried not to sound ungrateful as she acknowledged him. Her mother would have practically bitten the guy's head off for disturbing her nap, but Emma was not her mother.

She'd run all the way to Hawaii to prove just how not like the famous Mary Margaret Blanchard-Nolan she was.

Emma stretched out in the back of limo, her body tight from sleeping awkwardly. After the very long flight from New York to LA and the even longer flight from LA to Honolulu, Emma was beyond jet lagged. When she heard how long it would take to drive from the airport to her resort on the North Shore, Emma nearly threw up her hands and considered going home, but then she realized that home was several time zones away.

She pulled out her phone and sighed. There were over a dozen calls from her mother, no doubt all of them shrieking about Emma being irresponsible and/or ungrateful. There were two from her father, one with a message. She listened to that, her dad's calm warm voice comforting her. He didn't berate her for leaving, merely wished her a safe trip. She'd call him back when she wasn't so exhausted. She deleted messages from her mother and several of her "friends." Since they were all people who hung around her because of her money and her influence with her father, they weren't real friends. Well, all except Elsa anyway. They'd known each other since they were children and Emma loved her like the sister she never had. But Elsa would have wanted to come with her and Emma just wanted to be alone.

She was so sick of the game she had to play in New York. She was twenty five years old, had a degree in business and had no job. No one would take her seriously as a businesswoman, let alone hire her. All they saw was the money, money her father had made after marrying an heiress. So rather than working, Emma got dragged to charity events and endless parties with shallow insufferable people. About the only opinion people wanted from her was how she felt about Stella McCartney's latest collection. The irony of that wasn't really lost on her.

But then again, Stella wasn't a musician like her dad.

Emma had always been a daddy's girl; some of her earliest memories involved playing hide and seek in her father's huge office. She worshipped him. David Nolan was the CEO of one of the highest grossing Fortune 500 companies, managing to take his wife's millions and turn it into billions. Nolan Tech was on the cutting edge of its field and expanding all the time. Emma wanted to do something like that, to make things that changed the world.

But almost three years out of college, it was starting to feel like she would never get the chance.

Less than twenty four hours ago, Emma was in her wing of her family's penthouse listening to her mother blather on about Robert Gold's charity gala in the fall (it was four months away, why was this her problem? Not to mention that Emma hated the man. And his son.) and trying to pick out a new handbag.

She wasn't sure what had made her do it, but Emma had finally had enough. As soon as her mother was gone, she called for her family's private plane and started packing a bag. At first she didn't even know where she was going as long as it was away. But when she landed in in Los Angeles, she knew it wasn't far enough away. She'd neglected to bring her passport in her haste to get out of the city, so she opted for the next best thing: Hawaii. A few calls and she was all set, mildly disgusted how easy it was. But money talked just as easily in Hawaii as it did in New York.

When the limo finally arrived at the resort, Emma got out, not waiting for the valet to open her door. "My bags are in the trunk," she said over her shoulder, heading through the glass doors into the lobby.

It was large and ornate; the furniture vintage and plush. She expected no less, considering how much this place cost. Her low heels thunked on the marble floor; Emma noticed people staring at her but she assumed it was because she was an attractive blonde traveling alone rather than anyone actually knowing who she was. She was counting on that relative anonymity to make this trip bearable.

Emma walked right up to the desk, smiling at the clerk, a short man in his forties. He reminded her a bit of those garden gnomes that normal people used to decorate their front yards, what with the beard and short stature.

"Welcome to Crocodile Bay, Miss..."

"Nolan, Emma Nolan. I believe I have a reservation?"

The man—whose name was Doc apparently—consulted his computer. "Ah yes, here it is. Ocean bungalow, number 205. How long will you be staying with us?"

"I don't know. Is that a problem?"

"Certainly not." He entered a bit more information into the system and handed her back her credit card. "I'll have your bags delivered promptly. Would you like one of our drivers take you to your bungalow?"

Emma suppressed a sigh; she was in no mood to walk. "That would be great, thanks."

"It's no trouble. Now if you'll just sign here and here, we'll get you on your way."

Emma scribbled her signature and accepted the key Doc gave her. She saw one of the bellmen picking up her bags and loading them into a golf cart. "Careful with those!" she said, wincing as he all but threw them around.

"Not to worry, Miss Nolan," Doc said helpfully. "Will's one of our best."

"He better be," Emma muttered under her breath. She didn't have anything especially irreplaceable in her bags, but she didn't like having her things tossed around like trash either. She climbed into the golf cart and waited for her driver. The questionable bellman came to the driver's side; he was tall, dark hair, clean shaven. He looked about eighteen, maybe nineteen. Probably summer time help then. They didn't speak. He merely put the cart into drive and headed off in what Emma presumed to be the direction of her bungalow. She made a mental note to rent a car as soon as possible; she had no desire to walk along those twisty curvy roads that led to her bungalow.

She'd do it later. After she had a nap. And perhaps one of those fruity umbrella drinks. It was Hawaii after all.

Her driver pulled to a gentle stop in front of 205. Silently, he swung his long legs out of the cart and went to get her bags. Emma followed suit, walking up to her door. The outside of the bungalow was cute, painted in blues and greens; it looked a bit like a fairy tale cottage. A stubby smokestack even blew grayish (probably fake) smoke. The only modern touch was the door handle, a standard electronic key card set up. She swiped her card and pushed open the door.

To be honest, Emma was a bit taken aback by what she found inside. Her cursory examination of the photos on the website did not really do the place justice. It was a perfect blending of old fashioned and modern, with plush wooden framed furniture. This particular bungalow seemed to be princess themed, but not in an overtly girly way. Probably more Elsa's style than hers, but she liked it. There was a small but standard kitchen toward the back and a hallway that led to the bedroom.

"Bags, Miss?"

Emma started, completely forgetting that she wasn't alone. "Um, in the bedroom. Thanks." It wasn't her fault if her eyes were drawn to the ass presented to her as the teenager walked away. Those uniforms were far tighter than they had any good reason to be. Down, girl. You're here to relax, not hook up.

But who would know? No one knew her here. At least she hoped not. If she happened to be out and found an attractive man, why couldn't she? At the very least, she was above going after the boy barely out of high school. She did have standards.

Emma put her driver and his ass out of her mind, returning to exploring her new digs. The fridge was fully stocked; there were some overly healthy things in there, Emma would have to find some junk the next time she went out. She was tired of eating tofu and things without gluten. She was fairly athletic, had the body to show for it. She didn't need to diet or do anything drastic. If she wanted to have to occasional candy bar then she would.

Her driver finished with her bags and hung around by the door. It took Emma a moment to figure out what he wanted and she groaned inwardly. She had zero cash on her. It just wasn't a habit of hers; she was far too wary as a jaded New Yorker. But this wasn't New York and the boy no doubt expected a tip. Stamping down on tendril of panic, she scooped up an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.

"Thanks for everything," she said, handing the boy the apple. "Have a good day."

He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then nodded, spinning on his heel and heading out the door. Emma didn't even think about him again until she got to her bedroom and saw greasy smudges all over her luggage. Thick black grease. From a car. All over her thousand dollar luggage. She would be sure to call the front desk about that; an apple was far better than that boy deserved. What had the clerk said his name was? Walt? No. Wilbur? God no. Wil...somthing. Wait...Will. That was his name.

She'd call later. Because all of a sudden all of her traveling caught up with her. Her limbs were heavy, her movements—once the rage had drained—slow and sluggish. Yeah, she'd let the boy finish his shift, then report him. Right now, Emma needed a nap.

She striped out of her dirty traveling clothes and dug in her bag for something to sleep in. She found her NYU t-shirt that her mother hated and a tiny pair of gym shorts. She slipped them on and crawled right onto the bed.

She was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Killian tossed the apple he'd been given into the underbrush. An apple? Seriously? Just who did that woman think she was? Yeah, she was attractive. Pretty and blonde, green eyes that sparkled. Full kissable lips. Not that he'd been paying attention. Besides, she wasn't his type anyway.

You really need to get laid, Jones.

Killian ignored the voice of his friend Robin and started the damned golf cart. He was only working this shift in this job as a favor to his other friend Will. That damnable Doc was so blind and tone deaf, he couldn't tell one sarcastic English bloke from another. Will Scarlet had shown up at Killian's place that morning with a wicked hangover, practically begging him to take his shift as a bellman. Killian hadn't been a bellman since his first summer at the resort, having long since graduated to working in the garage.

Speaking of which, it sounded like the golf cart he was driving was in desperate need of a tune up. He made a note to mention it to Robin the following day. They should probably try to do all of them at once.

Killian Jones had been working at the Crocodile Bay Resort since just after his first year at the University of Hawaii. Seven years later he was still there, working in the summers to earn money for his master's degree in marine biology. He'd finished his bachelor's in record time, three years, but the master's was slower. He had to find funding for his research; his full ride scholarship didn't cover it. So he worked. And it was a good job, paid well (as those things went); he had a little studio apartment back in town.

Working and studying also kept his mind off the real reason he'd come all the way to bloody Hawaii to go to school. Still UH had one of the best marine biology departments in the world and he had a promise to keep. So what if he was half a world away from anyone he'd ever known. Since almost everyone closest to him was dead, it didn't seem like that big of a sacrifice. And he'd made friends here, both at school and at the resort. Every summer almost felt like coming home, with Robin's contagious laugh and Will's adventures with the fairer sex. Other than those few close friends, Killian mostly kept to himself, didn't date much (to Robin's never ending chagrin, the man was always trying to set him up); he was more focused on his studies.

Occasionally the itch became too itchy to ignore and he'd spend an evening with Will, each of them leaving with a different lass. No strings, got the job done, he carried on. He just didn't see the point in settling down when he had so much unfinished business.

Who would want to tie themselves to a barely making it grad student?

No, this was better. He'd finish his degree next year and get a job. A real job. One where he didn't get grease on his hands, under his fingernails, in his hair. He was the best mechanic there but he wanted more out of his life. He wanted to be able to actually use that boat that was tied up at the marina.

Liam would want that.

Shaking off the thought, Killian headed back to the Big House. Surely, there was another stuffy oblivious rich person who needed their bags dragged somewhere.

Emma woke up in the dark, a bit perplexed. It took her a few moments to get her bearings. Planes, limo, Hawaii. Right. She stretched like a cat, her stomach rumbled loudly. Food it was then. She padded out to the kitchen, hoping to find something simple to eat. She didn't have a lot of experience cooking, strictly speaking. She'd learned a few basic things involving a hot plate in college, but even then she and her friends spent more time going out to eat in the restaurants around NYU than actually making food for themselves. All of her friends were like her: rich, entitled, without a care in the world except for having enough time to study amidst all the partying.

Emma was far more dedicated to her studies than most of her friends, but Elsa still managed to drag her to some pretty wild parties. Most of which usually landed them in the tabloids.

Emma managed to find some cheese and crackers along with a banana from her fruit bowl. She munched on them as she scrolled through her phone. There were another seventeen missed calls. Ten of them were from her mother. The other seven were from Elsa; her last message sounded a bit frantic so she decided to call her and put the poor girl out of her misery.

Elsa picked up on the fourth ring. "Emma! Oh my god. Where are you? I've been so worried. Your mom's like freaking out."

Emma sighed. "Els, I'm pretty sure that her definition of freaking out and my definition of freaking out are different."

"Probably true." There was a sound like clothes shuffling. Was she in her closet? Elsa tended to retreat when she was nervous and afraid. Suddenly Emma felt really bad for worrying her friend. "But seriously, Emma, where are you? It's not like you to just up and take off."

"I'm in Hawaii, Elsa. I don't know when I'm coming home."

"What?"

Emma winced. "I know. But it was the farthest I could get without my passport. And I needed to get out of there, Els. I couldn't take it anymore."

There was more shuffling; Emma definitely recognized it as Elsa's huge closet. Girl was a clotheshorse if Emma ever met one. But it was one of her adorable quirks. "Okay, I've disentangled myself from the closet. Tell me everything."

So she did. She told her about the discussion with her mother, Emma's own dissatisfaction, her frustration with life in New York. Some of it Elsa knew already, most of it she didn't. Emma hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings. She loved Elsa like a sister; their parents were close as well. But Elsa was perfectly happy with their life as it was.

"Oh, Emma. I wish you would have come to me. I'd have gone with you."

"I know, which it way I didn't tell you. I think I need this time alone. Away from people who know me. Does that make sense?"

"A little. But if you need me there, or need anything else, I'll be on the first plane. You know that, right?"

"What about Anna?"

If was as if she could hear Elsa roll her eyes. Anna was Elsa's younger—much more talkative—sister. They were close, always had been, but Anna also had a tendency to speak without thinking, which tended to her in trouble. Especially with parents. And the tabloids. "Emma, you know I love my sister, but can you imagine the trouble? I wouldn't even be on the plane before there was a headline in the Post."

"Isn't she still dating that hockey player? Kristoff...something?"

"Yeah, something about covers it. I still can't pronounce his name. But he's nice. And good for her." Emma could tell Elsa was smiling. She just couldn't help it when people she loved were happy. It was strange considering Elsa had no one special herself. And she should. Elsa was beautiful with long white blonde hair and queenly delicate features. People often said she moved like a ballerina, dainty and delicate. But Emma knew better. Elsa was tough; they'd taken mixed martial arts lessons together as teenagers.

Emma tapped her finger on the counter. "Maybe you could enlist Kristoff to distract her or something. If I needed you. Which right now, I don't."

"Are you sure, Emma? Isn't Hawaii a little extreme?"

"Maybe I need a little extreme." She paused. "Elsa, I'm fine. I promise. If anything changes, you will be my first call. I think I just need some time to myself. Some sand, some sun, away from the city."

"Very well. But don't forget to check it every once in a while, okay? I miss you."

"I miss you too, Elsa." They hung up soon after. Emma ate her banana thoughtfully, contemplating her next call. She had no intention of calling her mother; there would be no point, other than to give the woman a reason to yell. But she did want to speak to her dad. Perhaps he could smooth things over with her mother for a while. The problem was it was the middle of the night in New York.

At the very least she could leave him a message, let him know she got to her destination in one piece.

David picked up on the second ring. "Emma?"

"Um, hi, dad." She sounded a bit awkward, much less sure of herself than when she'd spoken to Elsa.

"Did you get to where you were going?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah, yeah, I did."

"Where'd you end up?"

Emma laughed. That was her dad, no nonsense. God, she loved him for it. "Hawaii, on the North Shore."

"Crocodile Bay?"

Emma's brow creased. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Your mother thought about vacationing there once, but decided it was too far from New York."

"Of course she did." It came out more bitter than she intended.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"No, it's not, but I don't really want to get into it." Unlike Elsa, what was bothering her would really hurt her father's feelings. And she didn't want to do that. She could sort this out on her own.

"I know she doesn't have the greatest way of showing it, but your mother loves you, Emma."

Emma sighed. "I know. But she just...makes it so hard sometimes, you know?"

"I know. But she lost her mother when she was young. She just wants what's best for you."

"Dad, I'm twenty five. I should be old enough to figure that out for myself."

"Take whatever time you need. We'll be here when you come home. I'll talk to her, Emma."

"Thanks, Dad. Love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

When she hung up, Emma was exhausted again. Clearly she wasn't yet over her jetlag. Her stomach was still rumbling, so she ordered something from the Big House as they called it and curled up in the plush couch, flipping channels. She found the special resort station which had little clips of all the recreation the resort offered. Besides the beaches and pools, there was surfing, kayaking, golf, tennis, horseback riding, snorkeling, biking and hiking trails, and countless other things. How could anyone be bored, she wondered. It was overwhelming to say the least.

She was interrupted by a knock on her door; her late dinner had arrived. She accepted it gratefully, still embarrassed not to be carrying cash. It was another thing to put on her list for the morning. Get her own car, do some shopping and get some cash. She'd be sure to leave something for her server at the main desk.

That Will guy was getting nothing but an earful from his supervisor.

Finally, at nine o'clock Hawaii time she went to bed. It had been a long, emotionally draining day.

"Killian, you got a sec?"

Killian sighed, wiping his hands on the greasy rag. He rolled out from under the golf cart he was working on. "Yeah, Robin? What's up?"

His boss—not that much older than him actually, perhaps five years older—looked concerned. "You feeling okay? You look a bit tired."

"It's nothing, mate. Took a shift over at the Big House for Will again. You know how it is."

"You gotta stop doing that, Killian. Will won't learn anything if you keep coddling him."

"He was hungover, Robin. He practically passed out on my doorstep. I couldn't let him come to work like that. And it's not like I couldn't use the extra cash." He was getting a bit impatient now, not overly thrilled with where this conversation was going.

"Just be careful, okay? If you get caught covering for him..."

"I know. Doom, gloom, my ass on the street. I get it." The resort manager, Regina Mills, was a real bitch. She didn't tolerate laziness or missed shifts or even a cold. Unless you were dead or in jail, you were expected to be at work. The guests came first, especially if they were rich.

"How's that going, by the way? Your research, I mean."

"Well, I managed to pay another month's rent of those traps, so well enough. As long as I can make it through the summer, I should be good." He was studying the effect of the surfing competitions on the marine life of the North Shore. It was a prelude to what he really wanted to do, but it would get him his degree and that was all that really mattered at the moment.

"Still graduating in the spring?"

"Mate, I hope so. It's been a long slog." Sometimes he felt like he would be a professional student all his life.

"What will you do after? Go back to England?"

Killian shook his head. "To be honest, I'm not really sure. There really isn't anything left for me back home."

"I know what you mean." Robin ran his hand through his hair. "After my Marian died...I just couldn't stay."

Killian knew all too well what that felt like, but he didn't say so. Robin knew Killian was an orphan, no family, but he didn't know all the details. Only Will did. Killian intended to keep it that way. There was an awkward silence, as Killian cast about for something to say. But Robin rescued him.

"Well, anyway, the reason I wanted you was to remind you again of my offer. To stay on after you graduate."

Killian scratched nervously behind his ear. They'd had this conversation about a dozen times now, and it always ended the same. "Look, Robin, I'm grateful, but I didn't spend all this time in school to be a bloody mechanic."

"You're the bloody best I've got."

"I can train my replacement. He—or she—will be even better than me. I promise."

Robin sighed. "Just think about it. At least until you've got a proper job in your field. I don't want to see you out on the street in this shite economy, mate."

Killian looked away, touched by Robin's concern. "I appreciate that. I really do. Thanks."

"So you'll consider it?"

"We'll see how my defense goes, but yes. I'll consider it."

"Fair enough." Robin clapped him on the back. "You should get back to work. Nice call on those golf carts, by the way. There's another batch of them coming in later. We still on for Saturday night?"

"England versus Brazil, wouldn't miss it, mate." Robin had a huge theater size screen in his house; he got all the sports channels so they could indulge in their love of real football. He liked the American game well enough, but sometimes he just missed kicking the ball around the pitch. He and Liam used to pretend they were playing for England when they were children. Liam almost made it, played at the under 18 level.

That was before the accident. Killian hadn't been on a pitch since.

Killian got back to work, finishing the tune up on the golf cart. He took a brief lunch break, wanting to finish before his shift was over. Robin often said he was too conscientious for his own good. But if anyone understood just how important the work he did was, it was Killian.

After work he'd stop at the store from some food and make dinner for himself and Will, who was still sleeping at his house. At least Killian hoped he was sleeping and not drinking again.

Emma walked the two miles from her bungalow to the Big House, trying to enjoy the scenery. It was better than focusing on how much her feet were starting to hurt. Her shoes just were not made for this kind of wear and tear. In fact, none of the shoes she brought were. Another thing should would have to buy. Great.

Doc wasn't at the desk this morning; today there was another shortish man, this one appeared to be asleep until Emma tapped lightly on the counter. What the hell? Did this place have a monopoly on the vertically challenged?

"Yes?"

"Emma Nolan in bungalow 205?"

"Yes, Miss Nolan. What can we do for you?"

"Well, first I need to rent a car. That's quite a walk."

The clerk—she saw now his name was Clarke—tapped on the keys. "We do have complimentary transportation, Miss Nolan. It is a rather large resort."

"I know, I just like to drive myself." She didn't get to drive in the city; this would be a nice change.

"Very well. We have a burgundy Lexus I think would be perfect for you."

"Sounds good." She looked around nervously. "Um, you wouldn't happen to have a map of the surrounding area, would you? I've never been here and I'd rather not get lost."

"Each vehicle comes with GPS, Miss."

"Oh, okay." She didn't really know how to work the GPS, but how hard could it be? "Is there an ATM around here? I didn't have cash yesterday and I'd like to make sure that doesn't happen in the future."

"It's around the corner."

"Excellent. I'll be right back." She hurried around the corner and got a hundred dollars in cash. That should be enough for a few days. When she got back to Clarke, she pushed a twenty at him. "Can you make sure my server from last night gets this? Cyrus, I think his name was."

Clarke nodded. "Yes, I can do that. Was he the only one?"

Emma frowned. "Now that you mention it, I did have a problem yesterday. The driver who took me to my bungalow left grease all over my bags."

"His name?"

"Will."

Clarke scowled. "I see."

"Troublemaker?"

"Not exactly. Doc is fond of him, but Doc always sees the best in people. I will report your issue, Miss Nolan."

"Thanks." She accepted the keys for the Lexus and headed in the direction that Clarke pointed. She got in, adjusted the mirrors and started the engine. The GPS was in the console panel to her right; it took some fiddling, some experimentation, but she did eventually get it to work. She let it guide her through the unfamiliar streets, taking note where things like the local Starbucks were. It took a surprisingly long time to get off the resort property, to the small town beyond. Surely most of the people who lived there relied on the resort for work, she thought.

Emma found some sturdy walking boots at a quaint little boutique. It had lots of native Hawaiian art decorating the walls. She saw a few pieces that Elsa would love, but was afraid to ask if they were for sale. This wasn't New York, where everything was for sale, for the right price. Instead, she bought the shoes and cute seashell bracelet before moving on. A stop at the corner store got her some junk food and simple cookbook filled with recipes even she couldn't screw up. She was determined to become a bit more self sufficient on this trip, to live like a real person. Otherwise she should have just stayed at home.

Thanks to the GPS, Emma found her bungalow on her first try. Pleased with herself, she decided to reward herself with an afternoon on the beach. She took the thick resort book and her Kindle out with her, unable to decide. It was early in the summer yet, so the beach closest to her bungalow wasn't busy, only a handful of people were there enjoying the ocean breeze.

Emma loved the ocean; if she could, she would spend far more time at her family's Long Island estate than in the city. The Atlantic Ocean could be wild, storms coming in at a moment's notice. She loved to watch the surf strike the beach, see the frothing ocean, almost like it called to her. The Pacific was different, calmer somehow. She wondered if it would storm while she was there, if it would be different. The salty scent seemed cleaner here than at home. Fewer people, perhaps? Less smog? Probably. Either way, she liked it.

She came here with no agenda, no plan. Here she could simply exist. Read a book. Lay in the sun. Go surfing (god, that would be embarrassing!). Go hiking or biking. See a show. At the very least, clear her head, figure out what she really wanted out of her life. Could she make her parents understand that she felt stifled? That she didn't just want to sit around and go to parties. She wanted to make something of herself and she needed someone to give her a chance. She didn't know how long it would take, but she did know that she already felt lighter, happier. Here she was just Emma.

For the first week, that was pretty much how things went. She got up, made some breakfast, watched some TV. Headed out for some activity or other after lunch. Enjoy a class of wine under the moonlight, go to bed. She didn't talk to very many people; she got the occasional sympathetic glance, for being in this beautiful place alone no doubt. But that didn't bother her. After her last relationship, Emma wasn't really looking for another one. Not until she got her head screwed on straight anyway.

She checked in with Elsa a week after arriving, trusting her friend to keep her parents in the loop. Emma still hadn't spoken to her mother; the calls had stopped so she assumed her father had spoken to her. Good. Emma didn't want to get into a shouting match with her from six thousand miles away.

"You should take another trip into town," Elsa advised, late one night. It was like four in the morning in New York; she was a trooper for being willing to talk at that insane hour. "See who you can see."

"Elsa, I told you. I'm not going trolling for guys."

"Why not? You're hot. You're in Hawaii, Emma. No one knows you there, wasn't that the point? Who knows, you could wind up having a nice summer fling or something!"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Els, this isn't Grease and I am most definitely not Sandy."

"No, you're Rizzo, I'm Sandy, everyone knows that."

"Elsa..."

"I'm serious, Emma. I know you want to figure things out with your parents. I know you actually want to use that degree. I get that. But life is more than just work. Look at Anna. She's the happiest I've ever seen her."

"With a hockey player, Elsa."

"You know what that hockey player has done though? Put a smile on my sister's face. And he's actually funny once you get to know him."

"I'll take your word for it. What about you? You seeing anyone?"

There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the phone. "No, but you know why."

"Elsa..."

"Enough about me. Promise me you'll go out into town tomorrow. Flirt with someone. I'm living vicariously through you, Emma."

"Okay, I promise."

The next day, Emma stalled for as long as she could. But by mid afternoon, she couldn't wait any longer. She followed the GPS back into town, wondering where in the hell would be the best place to meet a random someone. She drove aimlessly, feeling dumber by the minute. God, I am so pathetic.

She pulled into Starbucks, hoping a cup of coffee would clear her head. Her skinny latte piled high with cream and cinnamon, she turned to head back toward the door. The shop was crowded; she nearly tripped on an old lady's bag. Emma was so distracted she didn't see the large shape coming through the door.

CRASH. Emma spilled her latte all over the newcomer; it splashed on him, on the floor, on her shoes. "Oh my god, I am so sorry!"

"Easy there, love. No harm done." The smooth English accent stunned her; she looked up and just blinked stupidly. The man had a good six inches on her, inky black hair, intense blue eyes. A couple days growth clung to his chin, cheeks and upper lip. Too white teeth winked at her as he spoke; she wondered if he had a pretty smile. The man took her hand gently, easing her back into a standing position. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Me? There's cream all over you, buddy," she said, her voice shaking.

"I've had worse." The man accepted some napkins from a barrista who stepped forward brandishing a mop. The young lady hurried through, sopping up the excess as people huddled closer to the counter to give her space. Emma and her victim stepped deeper into the shop, trying to clean their own clothes. Once they came to a stop, Emma snatched the napkins away, balling them up and tugging hard on the man's shirt. She wanted to get him mopped up and get out of there before she suffered any more embarrassment.

"Lass, slow down," the man said. "It's not a race."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm not usually that clutzy."

"As I said, no harm done." He gently pried the soaked napkins out of her hands and laid them aside. He handed her a few more. "But if you wish to keep attacking my shirt, I'll not complain. Should I take it off? Perhaps that will facilitate things?" The way he said it...sounded absolutely filthy. What the hell?

"No, no," she said hurriedly. "Almost done." She mopped him up at best she could, then turned to herself. Her shoes were damp, but it hadn't soaked through to her socks, thank goodness. She stooped to get what she could then righted herself, having no idea what to do with her hands. And the man was still staring at her.

"You alright, love?"

"Yeah," she said automatically.

"No, you're not."

"Hmmm?"

"I promise I don't bite. Unless you ask nicely."

That got her to laugh. "Is everything an innuendo with you?"

"Not everything." He held out his hand. "Killian Jones."

Emma reached out and shook it, noticing that his large hand nearly dwarfed hers. "Emma Nolan."

There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. It was nice. "So Miss Nolan, may I buy you another cup of coffee? To replace the one I ruined."

"I think I spilled it on you, remember?"

"Aye, but I'd like to buy you another anyway."

Emma smiled at him. "Sure." Wouldn't Elsa be proud of her?

She got the answer to her earlier musing when she saw the thrilled look on his face and Emma groaned inwardly. The guy had dazzling smile, happy and dimpled. She was in trouble. Emma allowed him to guide her by the elbow to the line, trying to avoid looking directly at him. The air seemed to crackle around them as they waited; it was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. She just hadn't been in many situations like this.

When it was their turn, Killian turned gallantly to her. "Anything you want, love."

Inexplicably, Emma felt a flush creep up her neck. She hurriedly repeated her order from earlier, then listened as Killian made his own, iced coffee with a dash of expresso. "No tea?" she asked, as they accepted their cups.

Killian laughed. "You've never actually been to England, have you?"

Emma shrugged, nodding her thanks as he held the door open for her. "Once when I was little. My father took me on one of his business trips to London."

Killian cocked his head. "A little girl on a business trip? What does your father do, make dolls?"

Emma laughed. "Not even close. He's the CEO of Nolan Tech." Still no recognition, interesting.

"Did you go on this trip voluntarily? Or did you get foisted off on some nanny or other?" There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. Had she inadvertently struck a nerve?

"I was seven and no, there was no nanny. My dad and I were close when I was younger. I followed him everywhere."

"Even to merry old England, apparently." He didn't probe any deeper and for that Emma was grateful. She didn't feel like spilling her guts to a complete stranger. She was gathering that England was a bit of a sore topic for him as well.

"Well, Mr. Jones..."

"Killian, love."

Emma nodded. "Killian. Thank you for the coffee. And I'm sorry about your shirt." Now that they were outside, she could get a better look at the damage. The shirt had once been white, made of nylon. There was a small flag embroidered into the left shoulder. The shirt was a bit loose on him, but she could make out some of the lean toned muscle underneath, along with the dark hair peeking out of the V at the top.

"Nothing a little bleach can't cure. And I made a new friend."

"You did?"

"Well, I hope so. If the lady would like to grace me with the pleasure of her company for the afternoon."

Emma nearly spit out her coffee. Who talked like that? He was like a modern day Mr. Darcy or something. "Sorry, did you just ask me out on a date?"

"Perhaps. Would you accept?"

She thought about Elsa's advice. There's more to life than work. And she came here to forget her troubles for a little while. What could it hurt? He was cute (okay, gorgeous, she wasn't an idiot), seemed nice. He'd been ridiculously chill about her ruining his shirt. She sipped at her coffee, pretending to think. If something happened, she could take care of herself. "Okay."

"Brilliant." He flashed that dimpled grin at her again and she couldn't help but smile back. His smile was infectious. There was scar on his right cheek; it stretched when he smiled, but it only made him even more handsome, distinguished. "How do you fancy an afternoon on the beach?"

Emma bit her lip. "Um, I don't have my suit."

"I didn't say anything about swimming, love, but I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"Sure there'll be a next time?" she shot back.

"But of course." He downed the rest of his iced coffee and threw the cup into the nearby trash can. "I promise, no swimming. I know a place off the beaten path, shall we say."

"Okay." Emma finished her own coffee and disposed of her cup. "What about my car?"

"Leave it here; I'll make sure we get you back to it."

"Is that allowed?" Hardly anyone even drove in New York; it was virtually unheard of to just leave your car sitting in a parking lot. Unless it was one with security and a valet.

Killian looked at her quizzically, but nodded. "Aye. I'm friends with the owner. I can clear it with her if that'll make you feel better." He pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen. He nodded happily a few moments later. "There, all fixed. Tink promises not to tow your car."

"Tink? Like Tinkerbell?"

Killian nodded. "Aye. Her parents were really into Peter Pan at the time. Best not mention that around her though. She's quite sensitive about it."

"I'll keep that in mind." The issue of her car settled she looked at him expectantly. "Is this yours?" she asked, gesturing at the dark green Jeep.

"Aye," he said proudly. "Rebuilt her from scratch."

"You're a mechanic?" She didn't seen any grease on his hands. Killian went around to the passenger's side and held open the door for her. It had a skull and crossbones painted onto it.

"Only in my other life." He shut the door firmly, then came around to the driver's side. He started the Jeep with a roar of the engine, which purred gently once it settled down.

"What's that mean?" Oh god, he wasn't an axe murderer or something, was he?

"It means, Miss Nolan, that most of the time I'm a struggling grad student."

"Oh." She breathed a sigh of relief. "And you can call me Emma."

"Emma. It's a very pretty name."

"That the line you're gonna go with?"

"Who says it's a line?"

"I say."

"And you're an expert?"

Oh, he was quick. It had been a while since a boy spoke to her without either wanting to get into her pants or hoping she'd put in a good word with her dad. Killian, it seemed, just genuinely liked bantering with her. "Believe me, I've heard my fair share of lines."

"Then they were all fools."

"That so?"

"You're far too smart to fall for a line, darling."

The way the endearments simply fell of his tongue intrigued her. Did he always talk like that? A guy as good looking as him probably had women falling all over themselves. "How do you know?"

Killian pulled out into traffic. For an Englishman, he had the driving on the right thing down. How long had he lived here? She wanted to ask, but didn't want to get too personal. She hardly knew him and probably wouldn't see him after today anyway.

"Your eyes," he was saying, ripping her from her reverie. "You can play the vapid socialite but you hate it."

Emma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. How could he know that? Was she that transparent? That thought frightened her. She decided to change the topic. "So where are we going?"

"There's a little penny arcade on the edge of town, near the beach. Tourists generally don't go there; it's more for the locals. It's got a good view of the ocean."

"I love the ocean." It just came out.

"Another thing we have in common then, lass." He grinned reassuringly at her, then turned back to the road. "We'll be there in a few minutes. Just relax, Emma."

The way he said her name was definitely something she could get used to. It sounded so much more sophisticated when he said it, rather than the name of a grandma. Then again, it could have been worse. Her grandfather's name was Leopold.

They pulled into the arcade parking lot; it didn't seem busy, despite the summer heat. The breeze came off the ocean, but that only kept things tolerable. The heat wouldn't truly break until sundown. Killian was at her door again, giving her a hand down. Warmth bloomed from where he touched her, but it was gone as soon as it came, so she figured she imagined it. It had been so long since she'd been truly attracted to someone, she wasn't even sure what it felt like anymore. She'd been soured on the whole thing.

She followed Killian inside, eyes widening at the vast array of games. "Wow."

"Isn't it though? They have a lot of the games from back in the day. Which one would you like to play first?"

Emma shrugged helplessly. "Honestly, I have no idea. I'm not really a gamer."

"Neither am I, love. You don't have to be to play these." He walked over to the change machine and got twenty dollars worth of quarters. "Ladies choice. I'll help you," he finished with a wink.

They started simple with a Star Wars themed pin ball machine. Emma laughed at how ridiculous she must look, but Killian didn't seem to mind. He was right beside her, muttering encouragement, occasionally hitting a ball she would otherwise have missed. It was fun, more fun than she'd had in a long time.

They played Pac Man, Duck Hunt (with Killian holding her hand as she shot), Galaga. They raced each other at the Daytona 500. Emma's cheeks hurt from smiling so much. They took a break to get a slice of pizza from the small kitchen that served the arcade, washing it down with some Coke.

"So how long have you lived here?" Emma asked, taking a swig of her Coke.

"Off and on for about seven years. I spend most of the year down in Honolulu at the university."

"What are you studying?"

"Marine biology. It's boring."

Emma cocked a brow at him. "Why would you think it's boring?"

"Well, boring to you. I've always been fascinated by the things that live in the sea."

"I guess I've never really thought about it. I just like watching the waves, the ocean during storms especially."

"Don't get much of that in the big city, I'd imagine."

"We have a place on Long Island," she admitted.

"Ah." Killian finished his Coke. "Ready for another go, love?"

"Sure. I'm going to kick your butt this time, Jones."

She did not as it turned out, kick his butt. She did find herself staring at it on occasion. The more time they spent together, the harder it was to ignore. Killian seemed completely oblivious to the large stain on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up to expose his forearms. His shorts hung low on his hips, exposing his long toned legs, and causing his shirt to ride up when he cheered exuberantly about something. The glimpse she got of his stomach made her mouth run dry.

Why didn't a guy like this have a girlfriend? It seemed impossible.

"You don't have a girlfriend, do you?" she blurted out, as they walked up to one of the ski ball games.

"Why do you ask?"

"You're not answering my question." She froze, not budging until he gave her an answer. She wasn't going to be some notch on his bedpost; she wasn't a cheater.

Killian's eyes softened. "No, I don't. In fact, I haven't been on a real date in a long time."

"How?"

"Well, most of us have this thing called work. And when I'm not working, studying."

Now she felt bad for being suspicious. He'd been nothing but straight with her since the beginning. And she could tell. She could tell when people were lying, or just using her. It came in handy for telling her real friends from the fake ones. Which was why Elsa was her only real friend.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I'm a bit rusty dating wise too."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Let's just say that most men aren't really interested in me."

"Bloody fools, the lot of them," he said again. "Shall we?"

She smiled. "Yeah."

By the time they were played out, it was dark. Killian guided her outside, but she didn't head for his Jeep. She wasn't quite ready for the day to be over. Unfortunately, Killian's phone kept ringing. "Do you need to get that? Could be important."

Killian tapped out a message, then switched his phone off. "I was supposed to meet some friends, but I've found a much better way to spend the day."

"If you have to be somewhere..."

"Nonsense, Emma. Spending the evening with a beautiful lass is a much better use of my time." He gave her a cocky grin, then offered her his arm. "Care for a walk, love?"

She took it and nodded. "Sure." They walked along the small boardwalk, slipping down to the beach. Emma took off her boots, letting the sand slip between her toes. They talked about nothing profound, just small talk, enjoying the moment. She couldn't remember the last time she had a quiet moment like this, one with no expectations. She had to admit it was nice.

But it couldn't last.

She had to keep reminding herself of that. Nothing here was permanent. Still, she could have some fun, take some good memories home with her.

"Emma?"

"Hmmm?"

"I asked you wanted some ice cream."

"Oh. Sorry. Yeah, that would be great." There was a little stand on the edge of the boardwalk, run by an older lady. Killian seemed to know her as well, as they greeted each other warmly.

"What flavor?" the lady, Ingrid, asked.

"Do you have Rocky Road?"

"As it happens I do." Ingrid scooped out a sizable amount and dropped it deftly into the waffle cone. "Any for you, Killian?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks though." He handed Ingrid some cash before Emma could stop him. She accepted her cone gratefully, linking arms with Killian again after he gallantly took her shoes. They walked down to one of the low sea walls, under a catch of palm trees. It was dark and secluded, the only light coming from the moon shining off the ocean.

Emma sat on the low wall, Killian beside her, not too close. They watched the tide come in in companionable silence, but Emma noticed him scooting closer to her. His proximity was making her body hum; it was the first time they were truly alone, away from prying eyes. She didn't know what would happen and it was thrilling to her.

"Do you want some?" she asked, holding out her half eaten cone.

"Rocky Road's not really my flavor, lass."

"Try it."

His teeth shone in the low light. "Very well." He leaned in and licked at the melting cream, his eyes locked with hers. She shivered as he pulled away, sucking the treat into his mouth. "Hmm, perhaps I could get used to it."

"Maybe you should have another bite, just to be sure." She didn't know where this boldness was coming from, but she had to admit she liked it.

"Are you going to join me, lass?" he asked just before leaning in again. Emma's fingers tightened around the cone, then she made her decision. She leaned forward too, lapping at the melting ice cream. They were insanely close like this, sharing the cone. Noses brushed cheeks, warmth pooled in her stomach. When their tongues touched, all pretense of propriety was forgotten. Emma dropped the cone into the sand, her unoccupied hand coming up to curl into his shirt.

Killian moaned softly, hand coming up around her waist. They hovered there for a second, lips barely touching, breath in each other's face before giving in. Emma moved first, pressing her lips more firmly to his, swallowing his surprised grunt.

Emma hadn't been kissed in ages, and certainly never like this. It started very chaste, the sweet brushing of lips, the taste of the Rocky Road. Killian's hand skimmed under her shirt, fingertips brushing her lower back. "Emma..." he breathed.

"Shhh, just kiss me." She may have just met him, but she liked the way this felt. The warm feeling spread all the way to her toes, making her feel lighter, freer than she had in quite some time. She yelped softly when Killian hoisted her into his lap, so she was straddling his hips. Emma cradled his face in her hands, thumbs brushing over his scruff, meeting his lips once more. Her tongue slid out and Killian opened for her instantly, meeting her stroke for stroke. Good lord, he was a fantastic kisser.

When his hands slid under her shirt again, she didn't stop him, enjoying the feel of the calloused palms on her skin. It was so different from anyone else she'd been with, not that there were many.

"Killian," she whispered, pulling back to breathe.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head. "No. You feel good."

"Bloody hell." He pressed kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her neck. "There so much I'd like to do to you." But not here was left unspoken. They were too exposed and Emma suspected that neither of them had come prepared for such an encounter. She knew she hadn't. But she could feel how much this was affecting him, the hard ridge between her thighs.

"I know. Me too." She wasn't usually that girl, but she wasn't Emma Nolan here. She was just Emma and Emma wanted to make out (and perhaps more) with a really hot guy she met in Starbucks.

"You know what we can do though..." Killian began, his voice molten against her ear. He rolled his hips up, grinding into her heat. "Let me make you feel good, lass."

"Oh god." She kissed him hard, rolling her hips into his. The seam of her jeans pressed right against her clit and she needed more. Killian seemed to know, his hands sliding further up her shirt, brushing over the cups of her bra. He kneaded her breasts through the fabric; Emma threw her head back, long hair caught in the breeze. Killian pulled her shirt up, yanked the cups down, his mouth hot on the swell of her breasts. She whimpered, hands fisted in his hair, trying to hold herself up as the pressure built low in her belly.

Killian sucked a puckered nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and teeth, making Emma keen loudly. "Shhh," he murmured, plucking at her other nipple. "I don't want to let you go until you've come for me."

"Fuck," she whispered. No one had ever made her feel like this, heady desire making her body feel heavy and light all at once. She ground her hips into his, faster now, imagining how it would feel to ride him. He was thick from what she could tell through their clothes, sure to fill her up.

"That's it, Emma. Fuck, just a little more. Feels so fucking good."

The tension snapped without warning, her orgasm crashing into her as she moved. Emma stifled her cry in Killian's neck, holding on as he bucked under her, dragging out her orgasm and triggering his own. Emma sagged in his lap, panting for breath. Holy lord, she'd just dry humped a guy she just met. In semi public.

Even stranger, she didn't regret it.

"Love?" Killian said softly, stroking her back.

"Yeah?"

"Still with me?"

"I think so. Damn."

"Indeed." He kissed her neck, then eased her off his lap. "Not quite how imagined my night going when I stopped for coffee."

Emma blushed as she worked to straighten her clothes. "Me neither."

"But I must say I like how the evening turned out."

"So do I." She'd taken her friend's advice and lived a little. She was quite proud of herself for that. That and the amazing orgasm went a long way in easing that tiny voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother.

They got cleaned up as best they could and walked back hand in hand to Killian's Jeep. He pressed her up against it, kissing her senseless again. "Will I see you again?"

Emma clung to his shirt. "Maybe," she said coyly. "Do you want to?"

"Very much." He slid his hand into her pocket and pulled out her phone. He held it up to her so she could unlock it, taking it back and tapping furiously on the screen. When he handed it back to her, his number was among her contacts. "Now you'll know where to find me."

She understood what he was doing; he was putting the ball in her court. If she wanted to see him again, she could call him. If not, then she could erase his number, no harm done. But she could see in his eyes eyes how much he wanted her to call him. She nodded, slipping the phone back into her pocket. "Okay." She looked away, feeling suddenly shy.

Killian pressed a chaste kiss to her brow and stepped back. He unlocked the Jeep and helped her in. They took the short drive back to her car in silence, Emma having no idea what to do with her hands. When they got back to Starbucks, she impulsively leaned over and kissed him again, wanting to taste him one last time. She had to fight the urge to crawl back into his lap, breaking the kiss with a sheepish grin.

"Good night, Killian. Thank you for a wonderful day."

"It was my pleasure, Emma. Good night." He cradled her cheek for a moment, then pulled back, smiling softly.

Emma nodded and moved to open her door. She hopped out of the Jeep, checking to make sure she had everything. She gave Killian the thumbs up and slammed the door closed. She fished for her keys; Killian kindly waiting until she had the motor running. With one final wave, he was gone.

Emma sat there, hands on the steering wheel, wondering what in the hell had just happened. It was a feeling she was unaccustomed to; she didn't quite know what it was, or what to make of it. Realizing she was getting nowhere in an empty parking lot, she decided to go home.

Elsa's not going to believe this, she thought, heading out into traffic. I sure can't.