“What in the actual hell?”
Lo frowned at Tessa's angry words. Tessa leaned closer to the screen.
“Did he hit you?! I swear to God, I will rip off every single body part he considers sacred and light them on fire—”
“What's going on?” Spencer's face appeared. “Holy shit!”
“No, you guys stop!” Lo objected, remembering her broken nose. In retrospect, she should have told them ahead of time before signing into Skype. “I ran into a cement pylon at the airport.”
Tessa and Spencer sat back down, sharing a chair in front of their computer. They both blinked at her like they misheard what she'd just said.
Lo sighed. “Not my proudest moment, but it wasn't Brady's fault.”
“What wasn't my fault?” Brady asked entering the living room. He came to stand behind the couch so he could look over her shoulder at the computer sitting in front of her on the low table.
“Oh, my face,” Lo explained.
“It was kind of my fault,” Brady said, surprising her.
Tessa sat forward, her eyes narrowing. “Explain.”
“She kept getting lost in the foot traffic, so I was holding her hand—”
Tessa's face immediately melted into wistful idealism. “You were holding her hand?”
Lo pursed her lips at her friend's sudden change in demeanor.
Brady bent in half and rested his forearms along the back of the couch. One of those glorious forearms brushed Lo's shoulder. She sat forward to get out of the Bubble of Brady. The Brady Bubble. The bubble of yummy Brady goodness where nothing ever hurt and everything smelled good.
Yep, she had the stupid.
“Well, I was trying to. But she let go of my hand. I turned around right away, afraid to lose her again, and saw her jog face-first into the pylon.”
Tessa's head tilted to the side and her eyes were round with adoration. “You were afraid to lose her?”
“Yes, because I'm so good at navigation you know.” Lo's sarcasm could not be mistaken. She huffed in exasperation. “I pulled my hand away, it was all my fault.”
“I told you already,” Brady's deep voice was right there in her ear. She could see him in the small square screen to the upper left of her monitor. His mouth was so close to her, if she turned towards him, she'd hit his lips with her lips. Her heart began to pound a lovely staccato beat at the very thought. Super helpful.
“I should have held on tighter. Next time... I will.”
Lo stared at Spencer's eyes, willing her say something, anything. Something uncomfortable and awkward to break this moment. To make it not real. Spencer, for her part, lifted her eyebrows and rolled her lips inward, trying to hide her smile.
“Okay, thank you,” Lo said softly, needing him to go away now. Right now.
He stood up and she closed her eyes in relief. But they flew open the instant his hand curled around the back of her neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. Helingered for a moment, as did his silence, and he walked away.
As soon as he had left the room, Lo lifted one finger at her friends, whose mouths were both hanging open. Lo reached into her laptop bag and pulled out her headphones. The second she plugged them in, both Tessa and Spencer exploded with words and exclamations.
“Oh my!” Spencer waved a hand at her face.
“I love him,” Tessa declared. “Not for me, for you. I love him for you.”
“That's...” Lo cleared her throat, unable to say what she wanted to say for fear Brady would hear her. “Well, it's...unnecessary is what it is.” She finally gave into the nervous laugh that wanted to escape. “He made me tacos,” she said as quietly as she could.
Tessa and Spencer squealed.
“Guys,” Lo tried to calm them down. “You have got to stop.”
“Why?” Tessa asked with a petulant frown. “Why do we have to stop?”
“You know why,” Lo warned, arching an eyebrow as threateningly as she could.
“Because Miller Boden is a narcissistic bee-otch, is not a reason,” Tessa said.
“Just...” Lo tried to find the words to explain what she knew in her heart. “I'm not ready to find out if my heart can break again, okay?”
Tessa and Spencer both sobered. They exchanged a look Lo knew was going to cost her.
“LoLo,” Spencer said softly, leaning forward. “That excuse starts to wear thin when someone like Brady Samson is involved.”
Lo grimaced. “Guys, he called me a mantrap.”
“Have you seen you?” Spencer asked seriously.
“What's that supposed to mean?” Lo asked, affronted.
“You're hot. You look like a secret agent sent to bring about the destruction of man by simply bringing them to their knees. Of course he called you a mantrap. It was obviously his only method of defense.”
Lo scrunched up her face. “I don't like this subject. Time to switch.”
Tessa took a deep breath and launched into her latest story about the cute doctor she had been talking to, only to find out he was actually bald and wore a very convincing hair piece.
“Top of the line,” Spencer confirmed. “I saw it with my own eyes. Looked real to me, too.”
“So what's the problem?” Lo asked. “I didn't know you disliked bald men.”
“It's the principal of the thing!” Tessa exclaimed. “If he's willing to lie about his hair, what else will he lie about?”
“That's actually a really good point,” Lo murmured, grateful they weren't talking about Brady anymore. She couldn't handle it right now.
Brady
Brady went through the beach house making sure all the lights were off and the doors were locked. It was a gated community and he knew they would be fine, but for some reason he was having trouble sleeping; walking the house seemed like the best option to settle the worries keeping him awake.
The full moon reflected brightly off the pool out back. He paused, sliding his hands up the wooden frame of the glass door and flexing his back muscles. Travel usually made him anxious, but this was different.
The ocean breaking in the distance interrupted the steady tick of the watch on his wrist, otherwise the world was silent. Maybe it was because he hadn't been in the water in a while. Maybe a few clean peaks would clear his head and help him relax again.
Lo
This was the most crowded private beach Lo had ever seen. Not that she could really blame them. The waves were pristine. Which was why she was out there at dawn. Technically, just before dawn.
Playa Colorado was exactly what you'd expect a resort like Hacienda Iguana to offer for surfing. Too many boats for Lo's taste. But unpredictable waves and barrels the likes of which she had only dreamed about. A good middle ground for moderate to serious surfers. Too big for amateurs, but not so big it was terrifying.
The water lapped at her legs and her hands braced on the second board she was trying out in as many days. Shane and Clarke had sent the equipment. And a crap ton of extras, like the wet suit she had donned that morning. Lo had delved into the boxes with childlike abandon on Christmas morning. She wanted to try everything all at once and was grumpily reluctant to admit she wouldn't have time before they left Nicaragua.
A tall figure appeared on the beach. She watched Brady drop his stuff beside her stuff and braced his hands on his hips, eyes pointed to her.
She grinned.
Yesterday, their first full day at the resort, they had explored the beach and waves mostly together. Brady was taking his appointment as her protector very seriously. By late afternoon, it was driving her crazy.
She liked him. A lot. Too much. But she was also used to doing things on her own. She'd always been fiercely independent and having a second shadow was really harshing her mellow. She was feeling crowded. And when she felt crowded, she got competitive.
He treated her like she couldn't handle what she'd signed up for. He only let her have baby waves and low peaks. Frustrating didn't cover it.
So she'd gone to bed early, and had headed to the beach pre-dawn. Being careful to sneak out without waking him.
Brady's posture at the moment indicated his thoughts on the matter, which only amused her.
She felt the wave coming before she saw it, a connection to the sea that had been there since the day she was born, and began to paddle fiercely with her arms. The water swelled beneath her, the power and the force lifting her heart into her throat.
It never got old. The intense realization she was just a passenger in another breathtaking ride.
The wave began to curve and fold and she dropped into it, eyes on the rapidly closing circle of daylight at the other end of the tunnel. A backside tube hadn't been on the agenda, but then again, she never made a plan. She let the water do the decision making. She dropped a knee to the board and gripped the outside rail for balance while the fingers of her other hand stretched out and touched the dark blue water, feeling the raw cyclonic power churning behind her.
Her exit opened up and she took it, leaving the tube before she was ready. But she was never ready for a ride like that to end. Part of her would stay with the wave and crash with it along the shoreline, even as she curved her board around and settled back into the mediocrity of life.
That wasn't a fair sentiment. Nothing about life was mediocre. But when compared to riding a backside tube at dawn at Playa Colorado?
Brady
Brady held his breath as he watched Lo exit the tube and carve lazily towards the shore. She swung unto her belly and began paddling back out again. Of course she did.
He knew a lot of different types of surfers. Hell, he was friends with Shane Brookings for Pete's sake. Clarke and Greta were arguably the most talented females he'd ever seen on a wave. Greta was fearless, and Clarke was passionate.
But Lo...
He'd never seen that before.
She made riding a backside tube look effortless. Elegant. Graceful.
Yesterday, he'd been all over her every move, crowding her waves and keeping her safe from inevitable destruction. Her bruised face was a constant reminder to him she was clumsy and unpredictable. It was a frustrating combination of feelings for him. At the same time he'd been feeling disappointed he had to keep track of someone when he'd been hoping he'd be able to explore Playa Colorado on his own terms.
Fearless, passionate, insane.
She had ridden that tube like some sort of dark angel, at ease in a cyclone of phenomenal power.
Brady swallowed, realizing the situation he was in. If he were being honest with himself, he'd expected to easily beat her at this gig. He was more experienced, older, wiser, stronger. He'd anticipated teaching her and showing her what it meant to love the sport. The difference between a hobbyist and an athlete.
He was an egotistical and foolish bastard.
Of course Clarke would choose someone with just as much if not more talent than him.
He'd been worried about falling for her. Caring too deeply and maybe even stepping back in the competition just to see her smile. He had been anticipating the temptation of letting her win.
The ocean swelled again, gaining speed and gathering Lo along with it. He watched as she soared and skimmed along the curve, her body and method tight. But unique.
He'd never seen anything like it.
Goosebumps broke out along his arms and shoulders.
Lo was going to kick his ass.
He's spent the day before watching her back and making sure she didn't take any peaks he deemed “too difficult” for her. No wonder she wasn't speaking to him by the end of the day.
Fine.
It was a competition after all, it was time Brady embraced it.
Lo
“I'm just gonna say it,” Lo announced, propping her board up next to Brady's on the stone patio. “Today was a much better experience for me than yesterday.”
She bent at the waist and twisted the water out of her hair.
Brady didn't say anything. He watched her movements, his face unreadable, then tossed her a towel.
“Except for the boats, though,” she added mostly to herself.
“I'm gonna shower and make dinner,” Brady announced. He waited for her eyes before nodding and then entering the beach house.
Lo stared after him, trying to figure out if he was upset or just tired. Probably tired. He'd been fighting some pretty rough peaks all day.
She stripped out of her wet suit, heading for the bathroom that was adjacent to her chosen bedroom. Only two rooms in the house had king-sized beds. She'd picked one and Brady had taken the other. The remaining two bedrooms each had two single beds, making the house ideal for a trip including a bunch of friends, or even a couple families. The resort itself was clean, friendly, affordable. Lo wasn't sure if they were supposed to be reviewing their accommodations on the blog as well as the equipment and beaches, but she was going to talk about it anyway.
She showered away the salt and sand, washing her hair twice to be sure. Her body protested in small ways as she dressed in yellow terry cloth shorts and a black gauzy tank top. The smell coming from the kitchen pulled her down the hall in a trance.
“Fish tacos?” she asked, peeking around the corner.
Brady's lips twitched as he stirred the meat around in the skillet. “You have radar.”
Lo snickered and crossed over to the living room. “How are your muscles feeling?” she asked, sitting down slowly on the floor and stretching her legs out in front of her.
“Kinda tight. Not too bad.”
“You took a pounding out there today,” she said, stretching forward and pulling back on her toes. She breathed into the stretch, relaxing her back muscles and concentrating on the pull.
“What are you doing?”
“Stretching.”
Brady grunted and again, Lo couldn't interpret his response.
“I poured you a glass of wine,” he said.
She jerked her head up. His back was still turned to her as he worked over the stove top. Slowly getting to her feet, she approached the counter where two glasses of white wine rested.
“Thank you,” she said, watching him and taking one of the glasses.
Deciding to stretch later, she slid onto one of the stools at the bar and continued to watch. Brady was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a white tee that stretched over his back and arms. Probably his chest, too, but she couldn't see that. The kitchen was big for a beach house, but he easily filled it. His height and lean muscles becoming the focal point.
“So, why are you making tacos again?” she asked, planting an elbow on the bar and dropping her chin into her fist.
Brady glanced over his shoulder at her and she wasn't certain, but she thought she saw an actual smile.
“It's all I bought for supplies. All done stretching?”
“For now. Did you have fun today?” she asked, wondering why he hadn't said anything about it yet.
Brady turned the burner off and moved the skillet over. He spoke while he took out plates and tortillas and sliced vegetables from the fridge.
“I did. Not as much as you, I think, but it's still early.” He leaned his hip to the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
Yep, the shirt was tight on his chest too.
“Watching you in that backside tube this morning almost killed me.”
Lo couldn't help it, she laughed. “What? Why?”
Brady took a slow breath, his eyes skating over her face. “If I tell you the truth, you'll lose all respect for me.”
“You're assuming I have so much,” she teased, taking a sip of her wine.
Brady pressed his lips together. Crossing the kitchen he rested his forearms on the bar directly across from her. Lo took another sip of wine, trying to bolster herself against his intoxicating proximity.
“I didn't know you were that good,” he said, his voice coming out low and rumbly.
Lo felt her cheeks heat. “And now?”
Brady's eyes dropped to her lips, she licked them out of reflex and he took a slow, deep breath.
“Now, I'm going to be watching my back,” he said, the gravel in his voice heavier even as his voice dropped more in volume. “Because you're outstanding.”
Lo let his words slide through her and wrap around her dopamine receptors. Brady Samson was dangerous for her brain.
He pushed back from the bar and served up dinner. The rest of the evening was actually very nice. Chill. They talked about the things they liked and didn't like about Shane's equipment, did the dishes, went to bed.
Lo was so tired, she was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. Belly full of tacos, heart full of adventure, head full of happy.