Mavericks was half legend, half suicide.
The water was cold, unforgiving. It wasn't the peaceful turquoisey blue-green that you see in magazines and teen beach movies. It was a dark gray, except for the tops which were an angry, frothy white.
Two miles off shore from Pillar Point and north of the small town, Half Moon Bay, Mavericks was the result of northern storms sending their energy to the south. As the ocean converged on Pillar Point, it encountered a unique rock formation below the surface, a reef that had been built and formed over thousands of years into layers of jagged shelves, peaks, and valleys. The wave didn't just break over the reef, it was lifted, and lifted, and lifted, and lifted—making waves with an average of twenty-five feet on the face, but often reached seventy feet or more.
The reef curved from the northwest towards the west, capturing the waves that entered and funneling the energy into massively high peaks. The lip, heavy with the weight of the deep sea being pushed upwards, keeled and collapsed back onto its own barrel—which wasn't a barrel at all. Not a round one. It was more of a square, with hard edges and lines. The sea constantly and relentlessly pushed you forward while it also tried to suck you back inside.
Surfers who wiped out before clearing the face (which happened often), were pushed under the wave. A large trench wound its way through the reef, and surfers were often pushed further into it as wave after wave came down on top of them.
The current then crashed through onshore rocks. Sending surfers through it like branches through a wood chipper.
To surf Mavericks was to understand what little control you had. You weren't a guest. You were an intruder and the sea would dispose of you as it saw fit. Physical strength, experience, healthy fear. Those things would keep you alive.
“It's big,” Brady observed. “Faster than I expected.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Brady watched the water roll in from the lineup outside. He'd hitched a ride with Nadia on the back of her wave runner instead of paddling out so he could conserve some of his energy.
“Because I'm scared,” he said honestly.
Nadia licked her lips and looked towards shore where Julia was ready and waiting with her long lens. She shook her head. “Stupid,” she muttered.
“Why are you out here?” Brady asked, tugging his surf cap up from around his neck to cover his head.
“To save your ass if you're wrong,” she replied.
“No, I mean why do you do this? Scotch is the pick-up man. He's happy to do it. You could be on the shore with Jules, being an actual assistant.”
Nadia's grin disarmed him. She spent so much of her time being sardonic, he forgot how gorgeous her smile was. Scotch Bishop was a moron.
“I like having handsome men indebted to me. Saving their lives tends to do that.” She ran a hand through her thick glossy hair and tossed it over a shoulder as she looked back at him. “Do you just want me to tow you in?”
She was offering the easier alternative. Being towed by the wave runner into the drop in meant he'd already be up to speed with the wave when he hit it. Paddling was more difficult.
“Nah,” Brady declined, getting off the back of the wave runner and into the water. He pulled his board off of the raft. “I like to feel it. I'm old school.”
At least he wasn't the only idiot out there. While it wasn't the typical time of the year, the storm from the north had brought out those who were familiar with Mavericks and the crazy few like Brady, who had been listening to the weather reports.
“Hey,” Nadia called before he'd paddled too far. “Watch out for sharks.”
Right. Sharks.
Julia
Julia Bishop knew three things.
One. If her brother Scotch wasn't such an alpha-macho-bossy asshole, she'd be on the wave runner with Nadia getting some of the best footage of her life.
Two. Meeting Brady Samson was going to either make her a very rich woman or cause her so much regret she'd quit the industry altogether.
Three. She had never met anyone like him in her entire life. And that scared her.
Julia's life had been anything but simple. Her parents died when she was twelve and her big brother had finished raising her. Scotch had been only eighteen at the time. Instead of going to college, he joined the military. Marines to be exact. And once a Marine, always a Marine. Which explained his bossy bullshit he kept pulling on her.
Still, she loved him and recognized that he needed a mission. It was in his blood. When he'd been discharged from the Marines due to an injury, she'd offered him a position in her fast growing business. It involved travel, a little danger, helping her out. It was a new mission and he accepted.
Though sometimes she wondered if it was enough.
Other times, she was more than irritated with him barking orders at her and secretly fired him in her head.
She focused her lens on Brady in the distance as he bobbed along the rough line up. It was kind of amazing how many people had turned out. Though it was like having a bonus season at Mavericks, so it was understandable. The waves weren't expected to reach seventy plus feet, but that didn't mean it was going to be easy. Thirty footers were still insane.
And Brady... what was he trying to prove?
She'd read his blog. With not a small amount of jealousy, which surprised her. The way he spilled his guts for this girl. The unexpected poetic quality to his words, the earnest conviction he held to. He had convinced himself that he needed to ride Mavericks to prove himself worthy of Lo's... heart? Her love? Her respect?
Julia found herself poring through Lo's blogs, both past and present, trying to get a read on her. And she just couldn't. So much was cloaked in humor and humility and was not even half as transparent as Brady's. In the space of just a week, Julia found herself attached to a man she barely knew in a similar fashion to her attachment to Scotch—with a great amount of respect and a side of personal responsibility.
She was captivated by the way he talked about Lo. The look on his face when he scrolled through her photos.
Now she was watching him risk his life like all big wave riders she'd met before. They had a particular quality that rang true among them: they wanted to push the limits.
And yet, he didn't want his girl to push those same limits.
It was a paradox.
A scary one.
Because if he kept pushing it, he was going to push her away.
Brady
The swell rushed up on him and he wasn't ready. Brady tried to get on his feet but the board was ripped out from underneath him and he plunged headfirst into the wall of water. The impact knocked the wind out of him. The sea churned and roiled. Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. Like a pebble in a gutter. The leash around his ankle ripped free and he knew he was at the mercy of the wave. The wave that had no mercy to give.
He pulled the tabs on his vest and it inflated, pushing him to the surface. His head broke free of the water and he sucked in a single breath. Another wave reared above him, prepared to finish what the first could not. He was pulled up from behind. Scotch Bishop used one arm to swing Brady onto the raft behind him. He had barely grabbed hold of the handle before Scotch was ripping away from the oncoming crush.
“Good thing you wore that vest,” Nadia observed when Scotch pulled up alongside her at the lineup. She had managed to snag his board.
“Yeah,” Brady agreed. “Shane will happy to hear it worked.” He pulled the tab to deflate it and swung out of the raft.
“You're going again?” Nadia asked in disbelief.
Brady crawled onto his board. “Have I ridden Mavericks yet?”
Nadia shook her head and said something unladylike under her breath.
“A man's gotta be a man, Nadia,” Scotch said quietly.
Nadia glared at Scotch, revved her wave runner, and took off.
“Don't worry, man,” Scotch said, watching her go. “I won't let you drown.”
Brady did not doubt it. The speed with which Scotch had appeared after Brady had surfaced was startling. He was starting to see the benefits of having a team. They helped you not die.
Lo
Getting a flight out of France proved to be more difficult than simply buying a ticket. Which worked for Lo because the longer she thought about what Brady had done, and how Shane had gone along with it, the more agitated she became.
“I'm calling Shane,” she announced, sitting down on the couch and opening the laptop.
Steve paused, mid-swipe as he buttered his biscuit (not a euphemism). “What are you gonna say?”
“I just wanna talk. I have some questions and I think I'm allowed to ask them.”
Shane answered her Skype call immediately.
“Lo.” He adjusted a baby on his lap and she realized she'd caught him at home. Also, Shane Brookings holding a baby made his hotness quotient skyrocket. She pocketed that information to share with Tessa later. Because she would appreciate it.
“Shane, sorry, I didn't realize I would be calling you at home.”
“That's fine. What can I do for you? I heard the weather there hasn't really cooperated.”
Lo swallowed and pulled her shoulders back. “No, the weather here is rotten. Was this location Brady's idea?”
Shane looked up to somewhere off screen. “Uh, why would you ask that?”
“Because it's something he would do. I just want to know if that's what happened.”
“What did she just say?” A female off screen asked.
Shane closed his eyes and sighed, the look of a man already defeated. “Yes. But it's complicated.”
“Not really,” Lo said, her irritation growing. “If I had known being friends with you would give Brady influence over where I was assigned I probably wouldn't have taken the job offer. How fair does it appear to have your male ambassador getting to not only choose his next assignment, but also dictate where the woman ambassador is sent?”
Greta, Shane's wife came around the side of the desk and traded glances between Lo and Shane. “She's kidding right? You did not let Brady do that, did you?”
Lo felt a little sorry for Shane right then. While she had never met Greta, she'd heard many stories. Most of them had left her feeling a little jealous at that woman's wildness and obvious adoration of the people around her. But mostly Lo looked up to her. Brady had had feelings for her for a reason after all.
“He just asked if I could send her someplace she'd be safe. He didn't get to pick the location.” Shane didn't even sound like he was defending himself all that hard.
“Nuh-uh,” Greta said, her hands going to her hips. “This chick has worked her ass off out there to be taken seriously. How do you think she feels to know her own employer doesn't have her back? And Brady needs to pull his head out of his ass. Instead of caving to his misogynistic pettiness, you should have told him to nut up. You're surrounded by strong women. Did you really think this was a good idea? Of all the women in your life, which one did you think would go along with this asinine idea? You know better than anyone. To love a free spirit is to never cage them.”
Okay, so it was safe to say that Lo had a girl crush on Greta.
Shane's feelings on the matter were more obvious. His eyes were locked on his wife and his face conveyed pure adoration. “I'm so glad we're on the same team.”
Greta rolled her eyes even as she smiled. “Fix this, big guy. You're the boss, remember?” She scooped the baby into her arms, shot Lo a wink, and disappeared again.
Shane watched her go and then leaned onto his desk, all business. “All right, Fredericks. I'm about to make you an offer.” He clicked his mouse over the screen, no longer focused on her. “I received several emails this morning. That's what I was reading when you rang. And there appears to be a gathering of sorts happening on Fiji.”
“Steve may have been the catalyst for that.” Lo informed him. “We've been watching that storm in the south.”
“Right. Well, I don't know if Steve was the first... let me check something... Normally, there's a stop there during the regular season. It was canceled this year due to lack of funding. They couldn't get a big enough sponsor to headline after the accidents that happened last year. But some big names have been asking me if I want to hook up with them down there.”
“Shane?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to surf,” Lo declared softly.
Shane's eyes tracked back to her box on his screen. He sat back in his chair and pressed his lips together.
She took a deep breath and blinked slowly. “I know my blog has gotten some hate after Brady's declaration and my apparent dismissal. I had no idea that was going to happen. But I can turn it around.”
The comments that had been blowing up her notifications since her blog posted were ninety percent hate. Especially from the women. Everyone had an opinion on how ungrateful, selfish, and undeserving she was of Brady. They even brought up her past relationship with Miller and how she'd been relatively silent during that too. So many people out there only saw two percent of a relationship and thought they understood it all. Not realizing how immensely shortsighted and judgmental they were being. Or maybe they did and they just didn't care.
Lo had an idea on how to fix it.
“I'm going to get more personal.” The words struggled to come out evenly. She tried to work moisture back into her suddenly dry mouth. “I'm committed to building your brand in a positive way. I want to be given an honest shot at doing it. I don't like feeling as if there are invisible boundaries holding me back. And I don't like the idea that my boyfriend can make a phone call and shut me down.”
Brady had promised to have her back and he'd promised no more games. He hadn't kept those promises. Loving someone was not an excuse to control them.
Shane nodded. “Okay. I'll book your stuff.”
Steve, who had been watching silently from the opposite side of the room, punched a fist in the air.
“I'll send the invites. But if you decide to not ride, say Cloudbreak is bigger than you anticipated, or the winds are too harsh, you won't be penalized. You are under no obligation to risk you life. It's entirely your call, Lo. I trust you to follow your instincts.”
Lo felt the tension in her shoulders ease. “Thank you, Shane.”
Finally.
Maybe now Lo would get to show the world what she could really do.
Hopefully Brady could love her outside of his restrictions.
And if he couldn't... then he only thought he loved her. And thoughts were about as useful as wishes, they felt nice in your hands, but were as easy to hold onto as the colors of a sunset. Eventually they faded away.
Brady
If Brady hadn't been expecting a pizza, he wouldn't have gotten up to answer the knock at his door. But since he was starving and he'd ordered a large all meat with mozzarella sticks, he lurched to his feet to get there as soon as possible.
He pulled the door open and found not only the pizza of his dreams, but Julia as well. She was handing the delivery guy a wad of cash and her eyes slid over to him.
“The Arctic Blast.”
“Thanks for ordering dinner, Samson, this saves me time.”
“I hope you don't think I'm going pay you back for that.” Brady took the pizza out of the driver's hands and staggered back into his room, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Julia managed to sneak in anyway. Brady took the pizza to the bed with him and eased onto the mattress. Every muscle in his body cried out for relief. All he wanted to do was eat until he passed out. He didn't want visitors or conversations. He didn't want to wonder why Lo had called him a dozen times but hadn't left a message. They had a nine hour time difference in between them. So calling her back wouldn't do much good. It was three in the morning there.
“Sore?” she asked, taking a seat in the chair at the desk and opening his laptop.
“More than I thought possible. Can I ask why you're here and why you're using my stuff?”
Julia opened the browser and began typing away. “I posted some of the video I took of you today. Your feed is alive with the sound of respect and mad props. But someone tagged you in something from more than a year ago.”
Brady listened as he worked his way through that first slice of pizza. You know who would love this pizza? Lo. She'd be all over this pie. And she'd rub his sore muscles and whisper all of her observations of him. He'd relax and sink into her comfort and warmth. The fantasy was so potent he could practically smell her shampoo.
This separation was stupid. They were having a little communication problem but that was all. The day he'd had, getting pulverized over and over again had him more certain than he was before. If Lo was the equivalent of a big wave, he could survive her wildness. And if he couldn't... he would die happy in the crush of her existence.
All he wanted in that moment was her. Forever. Lost in her tidal wave.
“Are you listening to me?” Julia asked impatiently.
“Not really,” Brady admitted. Julia was beginning to get on his nerves.
“You need to see this.” She picked up the laptop and stood.
No, go away.
He didn't say it, but he was about ready to.
Brady frowned as he chewed on his pizza. He didn't like himself without Lo. He didn't like anything about what he did or said or thought.
Maybe that shouldn't have been as huge a shock to him as it was, but he'd mostly spent the past week avoiding being alone with himself. Going out, making friends, not returning her calls... they were all things he'd chosen to do in order to avoid the huge hole in his middle where Lo's presence fit.
He didn't just miss her, he ached for her. Felt like less of a person without her. No one here expected him to be a decent human being. Julia didn't care if he was a dick.
Lo cared.
She cared because she knew him.
And he knew her.
Which meant he'd really made a mess of things with his recent stunt.
Shit.
“What is it?”
“It's footage taken from a cell phone back when Lo was with Miller.”
“Have I mentioned how much I hate the reminder they were ever together?” Brady said, tossing his slice down and taking the laptop.
Julia came to stand beside him. “Only a thousand times.” She reached down and hit play on the screen.
Brady frowned as he saw a very familiar female shape paddle into a drop in a wave that was thirty or more feet high on the face. He stopped the video and pulled it back to the beginning.
The surfer paddled strong, found her feet, dropped onto the face, rode the beast to the bottom. White foam chasing her. She disappeared in the spray and Brady held his breath. The person holding the phone swore as the surfer shot out of the spray.
“That's not...”
“Yes,” Julia confirmed. “I believe that to be Lo Fredericks surfing Mavericks. And I'm not the only one. After your videos posted today, people have been tagging this and many other videos of this same rider with hashtags like swellmates, beautyandthebro, maverickmates.”
Brady's stared, stunned at the footage. Why hadn't she told him?
When had he given her the chance?