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side. Alana was taken aback. This guy knows about the ‘ava custom , she thought to herself. Someone obviously briefed him on the way over. Let’s see if he knows what comes next , she challenged.
    Chase then proceeded to speak in flawless Samoan.
    “Lau ava lea Le Atua, ua E faia mea silisili mo ou tagata. Sa e puipui ma malusia matou uma i le malu o Ou aao. Lea ua tini pa’o ai le uto a Tapalega. Lea ua moli laau i Foga’a ua aulia mai lenei aso sa taupoina. Ia uli ma sao lo tatou aso! Ia Manuia!”
    Here’s to you God! Thou hast created the utmost of blessings for your people. Thou hast protected and sheltered us all underneath the canopy of Your arms. Our goal has been reached, like that at Tapalega. Gratitude and praise like those done at Foga’a. We have arrived at this special day. Let this day sail smoothly! Be blessed!
    As he spoke the words, his voice held a deep timber quality and easily demanded the attention he was already receiving in the fale . Without a hint of a foreign accent, the room stilled at his speech, stunned in its silence. Alana gaped as Chase raised the cup to his lips and drank a small quantity before tossing the remainder over his shoulder. He handed it back to the server with assured confidence as the server retreated and returned it to the bowl.
    “Is he for real?” Lisi whispered. “He’s either Mormon or got seriously schooled on the way over here.”
    It was expected that foreigners would only learn the two-worded Ia Manuia —not sprout some impressive monologue that included polite language and an innate knowledge of their culture.
    Alana scoffed to hide her amusement. “The man’s loaded. He probably hired the best Samoan-language teacher around.”
    Chase looked up at that moment and took in the scene around him, turning his head before coming to rest his eyes on her. He halted and held her gaze, as if he was reaching into the depths of her soul with just one look. The way his lips lifted into a knowing smile made her feel like he could see how she really felt despite the uninterested facade she had put up. She inhaled sharply and quickly turned her attention to something, anything else in the fale . Feeling unsettled, she focused her eyes on the wilting coconut fronds around the posts. When several minutes passed, she dared a curious peek over at him again. He was concentrating on the conversation that was taking place around him. She examined his face for the first time and noted his strong jaw line, full mouth, and straight nose. It was difficult to discern from this distance the color of his eyes. Brown? Grey? She couldn’t tell but was instantly intrigued. Alana allowed her gaze to roam down the column of his neck to his masculine shoulders before resting on his forearms. They were thick and looked incredibly strong; she had a forearm fetish and admired his immediately. He had an athletic build, and she observed how well dressed he was: white button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, grey pants. She couldn’t place his ethnicity; his skin color a deep tan and hair a dark brown, she was instantly curious about him. Alana flicked her eyes back up to his face and was horrified when she saw that he was looking directly at her, one corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest hint of a smile. Embarrassed, she lowered her head and placed a hand over her forehead. She knew her cheeks were probably flushed beetroot at that moment, and she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the earth.
    “I caught that.” Lisi chuckled quietly. “Mr. Donor God just scored himself fans from the entire female population in this country. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of us secretly breaks into his jet to fly back with him. Myself included.”
    “Shhh,” Manu admonished beside them. He observed Alana’s flushed cheeks and frowned, his lips pressed tight.
    “I want to meet him,” Lisi admitted dreamily.

    Following the formal proceedings, the group was led to a main hall where