beside him, grabbing a small bucket next to the boy. “I have big hands, too. Let me help you fix it.”
“You don’t know how.”
“I think I can figure it out.”
The little boy eyed him up and down. “I don’t know. You look like a tourist.”
“And tourists can’t build sandcastles?”
“Not really cool ones.”
“I’m pretty sure I can still help—despite being a tourist.” He grinned.
The boy pressed a finger on his chin and looked from Jeremy back to the ruined castle. “Well, okay. But let’s eat first.”
“Eat?”
“Yeah, eat. You know, with food. You’re funny.” The boy jumped up and took Jeremy’s hand. “Come on, I’ll take you to my taco shack. My name’s Sammy. What’s yours?”
“Jeremy.” He looked around the beach to see if anyone would claim the little boy. He couldn’t have been more than five. The beach was fairly empty, with only a few people sunbathing and a couple of men paddling out to the ocean on their surfboards.
“Uh, what about your parents? Won’t they be worried about you?” Jeremy asked as they headed to a grove of palm trees. A worn path was barely visible through thick tropical foliage.
“Why? They’re in there.”
Jeremy pushed aside a low-hanging branch from a plumeria tree. Sitting in the middle of a clearing was a rundown shack. Colorful surfboards were lined up outside the wall. A hand-painted sign hung over the door.
Sammy’s Taco Shack.
“See, that’s me—Sammy. I told you I had a taco shack.” He dashed inside.
Jeremy hesitated at the door. He didn’t have a shirt or shoes on. Three large ceiling fans swirled slowly, the palm leaf blades sending delicious smells toward him. His stomach rumbled. He didn’t realize how hungry he was.
“Mom!” Sammy dashed across the floor, weaving in and out of the tables in the crowded dining room.
Jeremy let out a breath of relief when he saw that almost everyone inside looked like they had just come off the beach. There were mostly guys.
The moment he stepped inside, the room stilled. He swallowed nervously. What was going on? Why were they looking at him like he was an outsider?
His eyes scanned over the tables. All the guys had a deep tan. Some had what looked like tribal tattoos on their shoulders and down their arms. And they were so big. They reminded him of Sal and his brothers. He eyed them carefully, wondering. They stared back at him with the same suspicious expression.
“Mom, I brought back a tourist!”
Jeremy chuckled when he realized that was probably why everyone was staring at him. The shack was obviously a hangout for the locals. He gave them a nod and a friendly smile. He let out a breath when they turned back to their food.
Tough room . He’d never experienced anything like that before. Most people warmed up to him quickly.
“Mom! Mom! This is my new friend,” Sammy said, yanking on a woman’s apron.
The woman moved gracefully between the tables while carrying a tray full of food. Her dark hair was tucked back behind her ears.
“He’s a haol—”
“Sammy! I told you not to use that word. I don’t like it. It’s rude,” she scolded as she placed plates of food on a nearby table. When she was done, she turned to Jeremy. Her dark eyes crinkled at the corners when she gave him a warm smile. “Please excuse him. He just learned that word from his school friends, and now he’s calling every tourist he meets that word. I’m Lani Hunter. And you’ve obviously met my son—”
“Samuel Hunter the Third, because I was named after my daddy, and he was named after his daddy. That’s this many, right, Mom?” Sammy held up his fingers.
“That’s right,” she replied, folding down one of them.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hunter,” Jeremy said.
“Please, call me Lani. There’s a seat in the corner table over there. Take a seat. I’ll have someone help you in a minute.”
“Mom, can I have a Sammywich?”
“You haven’t had lunch
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