Taco Night

 

After the day was done, I went back home. Well, after I got Bear’s beer and lottery ticket, I did. I wasn’t going to but then decided that it was easier than listening to him complaining that I hadn’t. Once again, Cupcake met me in the driveway and got his love and a treat, then waddled over and lay down on our patio. I smiled at him and went inside.

“Bear?” I called and took the beer into the kitchen. I put it in the refrigerator, taking a moment to notice that we had a lot of food in there for some reason, then shut the door and went into the living room. There was a big pile of mail on the coffee table. Great. I picked it up—junk, junk, bill, bill. Yea! I threw it back down on the table and looked around. He was nowhere to be seen. “Bear?”

Nope. He was still out. It was late in the day, therefore the waves were probably down, so who knew what he was doing. I sighed and thought a long soak was in order, so I stripped and then got into my claw footed tub. I sighed with relaxation and looked up at the slightly dripping shower head. That annoyed me but I paid it no heed and got back to relaxation. I was seriously feeling good soaking up some bubbles when Bear came in and smiled at me. He was wet. I guessed he’d been down at the beach swimming or whatever he did when I was at work. Even though the water was probably freezing, it did not stop him from being in it.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said. “You look so sexy right now I can’t stand it.”

I wanted to ignore him, mainly because I was pissed off at him for not having enough money to buy me that house I wanted. But ignoring a guy like Bear was hard to do. I looked him over. God, he looked hot. He’d just gotten out of the water and was still in his black Speedos briefs, which he’d just recently started wearing. To most, the mere thought of Speedos would invoke the image of an older, perhaps middle-aged burly man in the French Rivera. One with an over-sized gut and a body covered with fur-like hair. But with Bear, they looked hot and I mean hot—sizzlin’ hot! And these weren’t banana hammocks. They were cooler, more streamlined and updated. He wasn’t trying to start a trend by wearing them or anything, but he probably would as I’d seen some other surfers starting to break them out. At first, I’d been like, “Hell, no, you’re not!” But, of course, that had fallen on deaf ears as Bear did what Bear wanted to do. He told me he liked them, as they held his “junk” nicely.

“Fine, whatever,” I had said, knowing I was wasting my time trying to convince him otherwise.

When he’d first started wearing the Speedos the previous summer, I went down to the beach to watch him one day—something I did occasionally when I got bored—and all the bathing beauties’ tongues were lagging over him. Believe me, this was not unusual. I was used to it. Then they all started tittering when he did a supreme kickflip. Some even clapped and a few took pictures of him with their phones. He was that good. Even I was impressed. But I didn’t clap. But still, they were so captivated it’s a wonder they hadn’t started throwing their panties at him. He had came out of the water, board tucked under his arm, looking like a freakin’ Greek god. Even I got turned on and I see that all the time.

Once he noticed all the hotties lusting after him, he smiled, very pleased with himself, and acknowledged them with a smooth, “Ladies,” then jogged off with so much athletic grace it almost looked staged. Then he saw me, stopped short and, looking a little like the cat that just ate the canary, said hurriedly, “Uh, hey, baby.” I just shook my head at him. To be honest, I knew women really, really liked him. It didn’t bother me that much because the fantasy of a guy like Bear was completely different than the reality. Those chicks would never be able to handle him.

So, yeah, he was a man that was hard to ignore. But I was still pissed off at him for being so utterly ambitionless. Why couldn’t he…? I glanced over at him again. Oh, man, oh, me, oh, my. I couldn’t hang onto the anger, especially when I saw that he was already hard and the outline of his big penis was prominently displayed through his swimsuit. I guess I really did look “so sexy” he couldn’t stand it. But, of course, he ruined the moment by shaking his head and splashing stinking salt water all over me.

“Fuck! Bear!” I yelled. “Stop it!”

He grinned and sat on the edge of the tub and stared at me.

“What are you doing?” I asked and narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re creeping me out.”

Without a word, he put his hand in the water and then it came dangerously close to my exposed nipple.

“Dude, watch yourself,” I said.

“But you look so sexy.”

I just stared at him. We both knew he was going to get what he wanted, so what was the point in arguing? But I decided to, anyway. “Please leave me alone,” I said, though I knew he had no intention of doing so. “I’m trying to relax. I’ve had a hard day.”

“We haven’t had sex in eons.”

“We had sex this morning before I went to work,” I said. “And we had sex on the couch last night before you fell asleep.”

“My point exactly,” he said. “That was eons for me.”

I just stared at him. He stood and took off his Speedos. I watched him and then raised one eyebrow at his erect penis. The man didn’t stop; I’d have to give him that. He was ready all the time. If he wasn’t so damned good in bed, I might have tired of it. But he was good and for that reason, I didn’t complain too much about it.

Without a word, he climbed into the tub, sending water splashing out the sides. Then he started to kiss me. My mouth opened and he began to suck on my tongue as his hand found my breast and he squeezed it before bending down and sucking at my nipple. I moaned with delight because it felt so good. I grabbed his head and pulled his lips back to mine and we kissed this really long, deep, good kiss, not stopping until my legs parted and he settled between them.

“Oh, you feel so good,” he moaned in my ear.

“You do, too,” I said as he began to suck at my throat, sliding his tongue along it as he did so.

“Get out of the tub,” he said. “I want to go down on you.”

I obliged and stood up. I was covered in bubbles. He reached over and turned the shower on and took the handheld nozzle and rinsed me off, sliding his hand between my legs as he did so. He kept moving it, then I widened my legs and he slipped the nozzle between them. Then, as the water gurgled between my legs, he began to suck at me down there. He took his time to really explore me with his lips and tongue, all the while holding the water in place, right there on my clit.

I grabbed onto his head and moaned, “Oh, fuck, that feels so good!”

And then I came, humping his face until I exploded with orgasm and shuddered with pleasure. Once I was finished, he turned the water off, stood up and grabbed the back of my head, pulling my hair to bend my head back so he could cover his lips with mine. I moaned and slipped my arms around his neck, drawing him in closer to me. He kissed me for a good minute, then turned me around and steered me out of the tub and bent me over the pedestal sink. I grabbed on and he pushed my legs apart. Ahh, I loved this part. His cock was between my legs slowly teasing me before it went inside. Once it was in, he was fucking me hard with no hesitation. Just like that. He grabbed onto my shoulder with one hand for leverage and went as deep inside of me as he could get.

I was so turned on I couldn’t stand it. I just stood there and got fucked and fucked hard. Then he slapped my ass. I shuddered, loving the stinging sensation. He slapped my ass again and I moaned. Then he slid his hand between my legs and, as he fucked me, I moved against his hand, moved quickly and with concentration and then we both started to come and come hard together. Now he was pounding inside of me and I was pushing against his hand. The orgasm was intense and just so damned good I couldn’t catch my breath, even as it left me.

He fell against my back and breathed in deeply, then kissed the nape of my neck again. I straightened up and got a good look at myself in the mirror and groaned. My hair was going in every direction it could possibly go and my eye makeup, which I’d forgotten to remove, was streaming down my face. I was a complete mess. Then I cracked up.

What is it?” he asked.

“I look like crap,” I said and turned the water back on and got into the tub.

“You look hot, as usual,” he said and stepped in behind me.

“Hey, I’m just rinsing off,” I said.

“So am I,” he replied and slapped my ass.

“Watch it!”

“But I slapped it when we were having sex,” he said.

“That’s different,” I replied.

“No, it’s not,” he said.

I didn’t argue and we rinsed each other off then I got out and grabbed a towel. As I dried off, I stared at his body, which was so lean and buff and yummy I couldn’t stand it. Then I thought about what Quinn had said about me loving him. She was right but even so, I couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards him and his lack of ambition. Even after he’d fucked me so good.

He turned to me and smiled. “It’s taco night. I already bought the stuff.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s taco night,” he said again.

So that’s what all that food in the refrigerator was for. Even so, I wasn’t up for it. “Oh, hell no, it’s not,” I said and wrapped a towel around my body. “I don’t feel like hanging out with your loser friends.”

“They’re your loser friends, too.”

“Call it off, Bear,” I said and turned to leave the room. I paused. “Wait a minute. I had the Beast. How did you get taco stuff?”

“A friend took me,” he said.

I stared at him. “Then why did you call me to pick up your beer and lottery ticket?”

“That was after,” he said. “We went after.”

“Oh,” I replied and left the room. I went into the tiny bedroom and, as I opened the closet door, it hit a brand new surfboard I hadn’t noticed, which teetered and almost fell. Without thinking, I reached over to grab it, then it smacked me on the head, resulting in immediate pain. “Owwwww!” I yelled and jumped up and down with the pain, holding my head. But it wasn’t just the pain of the surfboard I was feeling; it was the pain of living in a tiny fucking house! I began to feel so frustrated I thought my head would explode. And then I began to feel like I was suffocating, as if the walls of the room were closing in on me. What the hell was that surfboard even doing in here, taking up valuable square footage? Why here? Why not out in the garage where he kept the other ones? The house seemed to get smaller and smaller the longer I lived there. I didn’t know how much longer I could take it.

I started out of the room and, then, of course, I stubbed my toe on the bed. Now I was really pissed off. I shook with the pain of the stubbed toe, which seemed to make my whole body hurt.

Bear rushed in and asked me what was wrong.

I pointed at the bed and yelled, “This room is too small for that big-assed bed!”

“You’re the one who wanted a king!” he yelled back.

“And why did you put that surfboard there?” I asked, pointing at it. “There is no room in this house for surfboards and yet they’re everywhere. Long boards and short boards and fish boards and gun boards and dumb boards and smart boards and happy boards and sad boards and fuck boards and boards, boards, boards! Why is it even in here?”

“That board company sent it to me,” he said and glanced at it. “And… I don’t know! I just knew I had to put it somewhere and I didn’t feel like going to the garage.”

I just stared at him. He was always getting surfing swag, always. That’s one reason the house was so overrun with all this crap.

He sighed. “Sorry. I’ll move it.”

“Yeah, you do that, Bear,” I said, feeling the pain from my head and from my toe. “You move it.”

“What is your problem?” he asked.

“I can’t stand this anymore!” I yelled. “We have to move out of this shoebox!”

“And go where?” he asked. “And do what?”

“Move around without bumping into furniture or having surfboards hit me on the head,” I said and suddenly felt tired. I sat down on the bed and stared at him. “Bear, I want to move.”

“We’re not moving.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said.

“What does that mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It means, I will move without you.”

“No, don’t do that,” he said. “Stay here with me. We’re happy here.”

“You’re happy here,” I aid. “You’re only a few blocks from the beach. I don’t even like the beach! I hate sand! And the ocean stinks like fish!”

He gasped as if I’d personally affronted him. His mother should have named him Fish instead of Bear. All he cared about was the fucking water.

“Sorry,” I said. “I just want more.”

“That’s the wrong way to look at it.”

I tried to contain my anger and said, “What’s wrong with wanting more?”

“What’s wrong with not wanting more?” he answered. “What’s wrong with being satisfied with what you have?”

It was no use. He wasn’t going to move. He’d never change. And that meant I was stuck with what I had and what I had seemed to be closing in on me. I suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get out of there. So, without a word, I got up and started to get dressed. He watched me and I left the room without speaking to him.

I found a pair of flip-flops as I walked towards the front door and shoved my feet in them. When I reached for the door knob, Bear put his hand over mine, halting me. I glared at him. He held up my keys.

“Got your car fixed,” he said and put the keys in my hand.

“Thank you,” I said. “Now get out of my way.”

He nodded and moved back. He knew when to let me go. He always did and that’s because he knew I’d always come back. But I was sick of it, all of it. Even if we were in love and even if he was the best I’d ever had, something had to change.

As I left, he hollered, “So you did get my lottery ticket, right?”

It took everything I had not to go back in there and let him have it.

 

* * * * *

 

I didn’t speak to him for two days after that. I’m not saying we didn’t have sex, because we did. I’m just saying I didn’t speak to him before, during or after.

He spoke to me, of course. And it drove me crazy. He’d say, “Still not speaking?” and “When are you going to talk?” and “I made you some waffles,” And “I love you anyway, even if you’re mad,” and “You’re starting to piss me off!” and “What is this? An anger beyond words?” And on and on and on until I screamed, “Shut the fuck up, Bear!” which he knew I would inevitably do.

Since my vow of silence was broken, things could and would go back to normal now. Well, as normal as they could for a girlfriend of a surfer. But I wasn’t ready for that.

He said, “What’s your problem anyway? I just asked if you had gotten my lottery ticket.”

I just stared at him. He didn’t get it, did he? He just didn’t. He didn’t understand the gravity of what I was dealing with. I suddenly wished I was more like him, laid back, free and easy, doing what came naturally, having the whole world eating out of the palm of my hand. But I was a Southern girl and most of us were just too damned high strung for that.

I sat down on the couch in the living room and patted the seat next to me. He reluctantly took it and studied me. He knew he was in for something. He just didn’t know what. I told him, “I want that house we just staged in Los Feliz.”

“What house?”

“The one I just told you about,” I said and leaned over and took a tear sheet off the coffee table. I handed it to him. “This one.”

He took the paper and glanced over it, then his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Did you see the price on this thing?”

“I did,” I said and leaned over and took another tear sheet off the coffee table. I handed it to him. “This is our house. The one we’re living in now. It’s worth roughly what that house is.”

“But the house you’re talking about isn’t anywhere near the beach,” he said, getting a panicked look on his face.

“But it’s got a great pool,” I said.

“You can’t surf in a pool, Willa!” he exclaimed and shook his head. “None doing. We’re not moving.”

“Fine,” I said.

“What do you mean fine?” he asked, the same panicked look in his eye.

“I’ll ask your mother for the money,” I said.

“No! Don’t do that!”

“She’s rich!” I said, my voice rising. “Her jewelry line sells in the millions! I have the beads to prove it! And she’s always saying she wants to help us out.”

He shook his head. “Please don’t ask her for any money. Please don’t.”

“Then how else do you propose I get the money for this house?” I said. “I will pay her back. Quinn is making me a partner and we’re going to hire more staff.”

“When did that happen?” he asked, almost flabbergasted.

“The day you pissed me off,” I said.

“It wasn’t my fault that you stubbed your toe, Willa.”

“But it was your fault because you put that surfboard in the bedroom and it fell on my head,” I said. “And then it was like a chain reaction.”

“I didn’t know it fell on your head,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well, it did,” I said. “But whatever. Just listen. Anyway, I am going to be making more money. I can pay her back, plus interest. I can do it myself. And I’m going to.”

“And you’re going to be house poor,” he said. “You won’t have money for anything else. You’ll be miserable. Come on, baby, don’t do this to yourself.”

I felt tears spring up in my eyes. I never got anything I wanted. He always managed to talk me out of everything. “Bear,” I said. “We have to grow up sometime. We’re in our thirties now. We have to start thinking about things.”

“What things?”

“Things like babies,” I said.

“What about a baby then?” he asked. “You ready for a baby?”

I shrugged.

“Well, we can have it,” he said. “We don’t need no fancy house for a baby. I’ve seen people in Guatemala raise fifteen kids in a two room shack.”

I stared at him. For that, I should have punched him. I just shook my head instead. And he was full of shit. Who had fifteen kids in this day and age? “No,” I said. “We’re not raising a baby here, no matter what your rationale.”

“Why not? Here is perfect.”

“Here? You want me to raise a baby here?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “Me and the little dude—”

“It could be a girl,” I interrupted.

“Oh, our own little Gidget!” he said and smiled. “Oh, yeah. Me and the little dude-ette walking to the beach, dipping our toes in to test the water…then paddling out…duck-diving into the waves …waiting for the perfect wave then popping up onto our boards and taking our rides… She’d be so coordinated, like me, but super pretty like you… How cute would that be? She’d be in her little wetsuit…pink maybe? Nah, she’d be too cool for that. She’d have a rad black one with pink piping.”

“And in this fantasy, does this baby also skateboard to the water?” I asked.

He grinned. “She could if she wanted to.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I would teach her well.”

“You couldn’t teach me,” I said.

“Seriously?” he asked, aghast. “You won’t let me! You are the absolute hardest person there is to teach to surf.”

“That’s because I suck at it,” I told him. “I’m afraid I’ll get hurt.”

“Let me teach you then!” he exclaimed, getting slightly frustrated. “Give me a few hours a day and I can have you hanging ten in no time. Or at least five. Possibly only one.”

I just stared at him, then I sighed. “I don’t have a few hours a day, Bear. Unlike you, I have to work.”

“Well, fine, whatever,” he said, as if he’d given up on me. “But let’s have that baby. Let’s do it now! Lie back and let’s get it done!”

He stared at me, nodding his head, like he was ready to get to it. I rolled my eyes. “You’re too immature for a baby.”

“I am not,” he said. “Tell me one instance of my immaturity.”

“How about the time you dyed your hair green.”

“It was St. Patrick’s Day!”

“It was green for a year!” I said, my voice rising.

“I liked it!”

He was serious! I groaned, “Ugh!”

“Listen, I am an individual,” he said, seriously. “I do things differently.”

“What about this?” I asked and grabbed his arm.

He stared down at the big tattoo on his left arm. “So?”

“So?” I said, mimicking his voice. “You never had one tattoo when we met and then suddenly, you wanted to start on a sleeve?”

“It would have looked cool,” he said and studied the tattoo, which was this botanical design that basically covered the entire top portion of his arm. “You had no right to veto that!”

“I have every right because it’s me that’s going to be looking at it!” I said, shaking my head in frustration. “Shall we flashback to that fateful day?”

“Please don’t,” he groaned.

I did anyway. I remembered the day like it was yesterday. After a long, hard day of moving furniture around a house, I came home and he was passed out on the couch, his arm bleeding through a thick bandage which covered most of it. Before I could ask if he’d been in a bar fight with a gladiator or something, someone began angrily punching the doorbell. Bear didn’t wake up, of course, so it was up to me to see who it was. When I opened the door I was confronted by an angry giant covered in tattoos. Well, he wasn’t actually a giant, but he was a very large, tall man.

He pointed his finger in my face. “I want my money!”

“I don’t owe you any money!” I pushed his hand out of my face. “Back off!”

“I came here for my money and I ain’t leaving until I get it. You tell Bear that!”

Then I got it. Bear had gotten a tattoo and not only that, he hadn’t paid his tattoo artist, this angry giant guy.

“I want my money and I want it now,” he said, seething. “If I don’t get it, he can forget about me finishing his sleeve.”

I became infuriated. “His sleeve!” I yelled and stomped back into the living room and ripped the bandage off his arm. There was a huge, massive tattoo on his arm now. Oh, God, it was horrible! Maybe it looked so bad because of all the blood. I didn’t know. I was just pissed. “You’ve ruined yourself!”

Bear jerked awake and howled, grabbing his arm. “Why did you do that?”

“I am about to go full hillbilly on your ass!” I yelled and pointed my finger in his face. “What have you done?”

“I got started on that tattoo sleeve I’ve been wanting,” he said and grimaced in pain. “You know, the one I told you about?”

“You never told me about a tattoo sleeve,” I hissed and pointed my finger in his face. “And you never told me because you knew I wouldn’t want you to do it.”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” he shook his head groggily, then stared over at the angry giant. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

“You left without paying!” he roared, then turned to me, as if I were the mediator. “I had to go into the back for more ink and when I came back out, he’s drinking my whiskey, from my secret stash, I might add.”

“It hurt,” Bear said. “I thought the whiskey would dull the pain!”

I glared at him. I was going to dull something on him!

“You can’t drink when you’re getting a tattoo, dumbass,” the angry giant said, then turned back to me. “It’ll make you bleed like a motherfucker!”

We both turned to Bear who was, indeed, bleeding like a motherfucker.

“See?” he hissed, shaking his head angrily. “So, I had to bandage him up and then I had to go into the back for more bandages because of his overgrown fucking arms and when I came back out, he was gone! And he didn’t pay me!”

“Oh, shit, I forgot,” Bear said and scratched his head. “Sorry about that. I got really sleepy.”

“That’s because you’re losing all this blood, dumbass!” the angry giant yelled, then turned back to me. “Get him a steak, medium rare. A big one. Maybe some Kool-Aid.”

“I’m not getting him a steak,” I snapped. “He can get his own steak.”

“He going to need some meat,” he said.

He’s going to need a new girlfriend, I thought but didn’t say anything.

Bear said, “Babe, can you pay the gentleman and let him be on his way?”

Was he serious? He was. Of course! We were broke, as usual, and he had gone out and got some crappy tattoo. Well, it wasn’t exactly crappy. It did look pretty good. But now it was going to cost us. “Fine,” I muttered and dug the checkbook out of my purse. As I wrote the angry giant his check, I asked him, “How did you know where to find Bear?”

“Oh, everyone knows Bear,” he said, nodding, then glanced at Bear and jerked his head at me “You got real firecracker there.”

“More like a stick of dynamite,” he muttered and winced in pain.

I chose to ignore their exchange and ripped the check out and handed it to him. “Well, thanks for nothing.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and took it, then pointed at Bear. “You owe me a bottle of Dickel!”

He slammed the door on his way out of the house, shaking the windows as he exited. When he was gone, I turned to Bear, who gave me a weak smile. He looked so cute like that and was always so charming and handsome I almost forgot why I was angry with him. Almost. But that’s why he got away with everything. He used this, he really did. I shook myself and tried to hold back my anger.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to drink when you got a tattoo.”

Worst. Boyfriend. Ever.

“I really could use a steak,” he said and lay back on the couch with his eyes closed.

I glared at him and without a word, I grabbed a magazine off the coffee table, rolled it up and started hitting him with it. “You asshole! I am going to kill you!”

He fended me off, then pinned me underneath him. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“If I have to explain why I am angry at you right now, then you need to go get your head examined.”

“Oh, come on,” he said.

“Next thing I know, you’ll have one of those mud flap girls on your arm!”

He considered this then nodded. “That would be cool. Why didn’t I think of that?”

And that’s the story of how Bear got this big-assed tattoo on his arm. He had to go back several times for the angry giant to work on it to fill it in, which cost a fortune as Bear had picked out one of the best tattoo artists in the state. It looked good though, I’d give it to him. The angry giant was a true artist. And, I had to admit that it was actually quite sexy, but I hadn’t let him complete the whole thing; there was no way in hell he was getting a whole sleeve.

“But it’s cool, right?” he said, grinning.

“Sure,” I said.

“Come on, you can admit you like it,” he said.

“Bear, I am not in the mood,” I said. “And I am not going to keep nagging you right now. I am sick of doing this!”

“Why are you doing this? Did you have a bad day?”

I just stared at him.

“PMS?”

“Did I mention the part where I nut you?” I seethed.

“You didn’t, I don’t think,” he said. “Listen, I know we bicker because we’re both very strong individuals and because we love each other so much.”

There he went again, being so charming I’d forget what I wanted. But he wasn’t getting out of this so quickly. I wanted that house! “Bear,” I said. “Get me that house.”

“No,” he said. “If we ever move, we’re going to Hawaii. I told you that.”

I stood and held out my arms. “So, that’s it? Huh? You have the final say-so in what happens in our future? Or in my future, I mean.”

“It would be a dumb move,” he said. “We have everything we need right here, right next to the beach.”

“You have everything you need,” I said.

“You used to love it here,” he said. “Before you went to work for Quinn.”

He was right. I did. I loved it so much I painstakingly redid every single room in the house on a shoestring budget. It had basically been a dump when I moved in but I had made it cute and beachy. I had been so proud of what I had done. However, now all I saw were my mistakes—the wrong shade of white on the kitchen cabinets, the chrome faucet when I should have gotten brushed nickel. Had I only picked a slightly darker stain when we refinished the old wood floors, things would have been perfect. So, yeah, he was kind of right about one thing. I wasn’t appreciating what I had. But then again, I was getting sick of it. I needed something new, something to renew me, something else to look forward to. I had been here so long I was beginning to feel trapped. I stared at Bear. Maybe I was just sick of him, too. I hated to even entertain the thought, but maybe that was it.

I stepped over his legs and went outside and sat on the patio by myself. I could hear the waves crashing on the surf not too far away and shouts of happy people having some fun in the sun. I felt so disjointed, so out of whack. I just couldn’t get over the idea of that house and how much I wanted it. Maybe I just saw it as a fresh start or something. If only I had the money.

But then something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. Oh, it was Cupcake. He waddled over and sat beside me. “Sorry, boy,” I said. “I’m in a bad mood.”

I leaned down and scratched his ears, then patted his head. He yawned, plopped back on his back and closed his eyes. What a life.

I sighed heavily, then almost laughed out loud when I remembered something my mother had always told me. She always said, “It’s just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor one.” I was beginning to think she had been right. Of course, after my father left, or rather, when she kicked him out, she didn’t want anything to do with another man. She said men were about as useful as “tits on a boar hog.” Her words, not mine. She also told me, “Give them an inch and they will take a mile, Willa. I don’t have any use for any one of ’em.” I didn’t know what that any of that meant but when she got fed up with my dad, he was gone. My mom was one tough bitch.

I rarely saw my father growing up but that was okay because I had plenty of family around me, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. My dad dropped by occasionally to give me a quick hug and some money for “school,” but was always busy with his favorite thing—hunting and fishing—to stay around for long. That’s why he and my mom broke up. He was always skipping work—he worked, on and off, in the coal mines of Kentucky—to go fishing or out with his hunting buddies every weekend for a deep walk into the woods to tree a coon of some sort or to shoot a squirrel or a rabbit or a deer or a turkey or a fox or whatever was in season. I remembered he used to have this big brown hunting jacket that had these deep pockets sewn all around the inside hem of it. After he had been hunting, he’d come into the house and throw that thing down on the kitchen floor and it would always have some sort of dead animal in it—squirrel, rabbit, quail, whatever. These animals always had such a funk to them, this wild, outdoorsy smell. But neither my mother nor I ever blinked an eye at it. That was what men did in the country—they went out and hunted and brought dead animals back to the house. He’d skin and gut them and, grossly enough, my mother would cook them and he’d eat them. I refused because I hated the wild, gamey taste those animals had.

He used to spend all the money we had on fishing rods and guns and dogs. And of course he always had to have a truck to drive his dogs around and a boat to fish in. Some of the dogs he bought were two and three thousand dollars each! And, don’t overlook the fact that we lived in a small house and didn’t have much money. The bottom line was that my dad wasn’t worth a shit. He was only interested in hunting and fishing. That was it. I was suddenly proud of my mother for kicking him out.

I stopped and thought about it. Was Bear like my dad but instead of hunting and fishing, his obsession was surfing? I froze. The parallel was so close it was hard to deny. Oh, my God, had I picked a man like my dad? Was I that cliché? I thought about it. It was almost the same thing, minus the dogs and the woods. Just substitute surfboards and waves for the guns and boats and you had the same, exact thing. I shuddered at the thought. Of course, my dad could never make any money from his hobby/habit. Bear could but he wouldn’t.

But, even so, Bear was a lot different than my dad. I thought about it. Yes, he was. A lot. My dad wasn’t a nice man, not really. Bear was. He was charming and he did care. And he was so sweet sometimes I felt bad for ever being mean to him. He never hesitated to tell me he loved me. He’d do anything I asked, all I had to do was say the word. Well, he’d eventually get to it, on his own time, on his own terms, but he would do it.

However, the thought didn’t escape my mind, had I picked the wrong man? He wasn’t poor, not at all. He just didn’t have a lot of ambition other than surfing. When he was surfing, all he thought about was getting better, doing more, being riskier. But off the board, he just didn’t seem to care. And that’s what drove me crazy. How could he not want more? How could he not? I knew I was at a crossroads. Soon, I’d have to make the decision: To either stay with Bear or leave and find something new. I wasn’t after a new man because he kept me very satisfied and was very fun to be around, but I wanted something more, something new. I knew if I didn’t get it, I’d start to feel all kinds of resentment towards him and that would lead to a lot of ugly arguments. And we’d probably end up breaking up anyway.

I thought about that for a moment before I remembered when we’d first met, almost six years earlier. I’d come out to California with my boyfriend at the time, a nice guy named Jed. He wanted to be a director and convinced me to move out here with him, telling me I could be an actress. I didn’t have a lot going on at the time so I agreed. It seemed like an adventure but as soon as we got here, reality set in and I realized I wanted to go back home. And that I didn’t love Jed. We got into a big fight and I left our apartment, got in my old, beat up Toyota and drove over to the Pacific Coast Highway. With the ocean beside me, my mind cleared and I knew I was moving back home. California was not the place for me, after all.

Feeling fairly good about my decision, I stepped on the gas while listening to a great tune on the radio, then all of a sudden my front tire blew out. I almost lost control of the car but luckily regained it and managed to pull over to the side of the road. I cursed then got out as the traffic dangerously whizzed by me. I stood there for a moment wondering why the hell I ever wanted to come to California in the first place because it was so expensive and the pay at my job was so low. At the time, I was working as a receptionist in a law firm and it was hard to make ends meet. Jed worked sporadically as a waiter and a bar back or whatever he could get his hands on. But he didn’t care about how much money we needed to live on. All he cared about was getting a movie made, which was his goal, his true desire. It’s all he talked about, all he wanted—a movie deal! He went to meetings all the time and when he wasn’t working one of his crappy jobs, he was working on one of his many screenplays, poring over it on his laptop at the kitchen table. There wasn’t any time for us, just time for his dreams and aspirations.

So, one day I just had it with him. The day I left, I had been so frustrated with him I told him he cared more about getting a movie deal than about me. Of course, he scoffed when I said this but it was true. I could see it in his eyes when he denied it. At that, I burst into tears and flew out of the apartment. He was such a dud! Why had I ever even dated him? Well, we’d known each other in high school. He liked me and asked me out a few times. Well, more than a few, but I just wasn’t interested in him. After a while, I relented and we soon became a couple. Once high school ended, he went off to film school and we broke up. Several years later, he came back and started calling me. We became friends, seeing each other at barbeques and parties. After a while, we sort of gravitated towards one another and ended up dating. Then he’d convinced me to move out to LA. I was older then and so was he and I thought we had the maturity to handle it. I had thought he would take care of me but soon realized that I couldn’t really depend on him. Whenever I’d bring this up, he’d say, “Willa, these things take time. I am going to get a movie made and it is going to be a big blockbuster and then you can have everything you ever wanted. I swear to you! But you have to let me do this!”

But I couldn’t take it anymore. I just had to get out of there and away from him. And so, that’s what brought me to the Pacific Coast Highway, staring at my flat tire. I realized then I should have gone to college, as my mother had suggested. I realized that with the choices I’d made that I’d always be in low-paying jobs and wondering how I could come up with the money for a new tire. And the tire was fucked, I could see that. It was almost bald to begin with and now it had a big piece of metal lodged in the side of it.

Before I could start cursing, an old beat-up SUV of some sort—what what I would later learn was affectionately known as the Beast—pulled up, Bear jumped out and said, “I see you need some help. Can I be of assistance?”

Could he? I was suddenly speechless. He looked like a vision. He was tall and tanned and ripped. His cool, beat-up looking khakis were baggy and yet looked good and the t-shirt he’d thrown on was worn-out but hugged his chest, showing off his superb muscles. His hair was bleached by the sun and his eyes hidden behind a cool pair of expensive looking sunglasses. He was probably the best looking guy I’d seen since I’d been out there. I was almost mesmerized by him. He looked cool. He acted cool. He was cool. I liked that. I liked it a lot. Who was this guy?

“Flat tire?” he said and walked over to it, bent down and looked up at me then shook his head, laughing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a piece of metal that big stuck in a tire before. You’re not carrying around a magnet, are you?”

I thought about that and laughed, then shook my head. “No, it’s just my dumb luck.”

“Lucky for you, I came by,” he said and grinned. “I love rescuing damsels in distress.”

I didn’t tell him I could change my own tire. My mother had always made me learn things like that, lest I become too dependent on a man. But I wanted to see what he could do.

He motioned for me to open the trunk of my car and then he pulled out the jack and my donut spare and in no time flat, had the tire changed and everything back in the trunk.

“That wasn’t too hard,” he said, grinning at me.

I smiled back. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“I was going somewhere,” he said and looked up the highway, then back at me. “But I think I changed my mind.”

“Oh, don’t let me keep you,” I said. “Thanks for changing my tire.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.

“What did you mean?”

He shook his head and smiled at me. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. So, what are you doing? Where were you going?”

I shrugged. “Just out driving. I had a fight with my boyfriend. I really want to move back home, to Tennessee and he doesn’t and… Well, I don’t know. I guess I should get back. He might be worried about me.”

He stared at me. “I should have known you were taken. But, hey, if you want to get a bite and talk about your troubles, I know a great taco joint.”

I shook my head and laughed a little, just loving his smooth talk. He was charmer, that was for sure. “No, no thanks. I’d better get back.”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “What’s a taco?”

Of course, I knew it wouldn’t just be a taco. But then again, why couldn’t it just be a taco? A taco wasn’t much of a commitment. I thought about my apartment, the dank small hole in West Hollywood I called home and burst into tears. It was one of those days. And, without a word, Bear took me into his arms and held me as I cried. He told me everything was going to be alright and that I should come home with him, that he could pick up some good craft-brewed beer for us. I didn’t know what that meant exactly but I agreed. I don’t know why I did, but I followed him home and was shocked that his house was so close to the ocean. And even though it was a little run down and a little dumpy, it was cute, too. It was a typical tiny clapboard beach house. The interior just had normal beat-up looking furniture a guy would pick out because most of them don’t give a rat’s ass what anything looks like as long as it’s comfortable. However, the well worn oak floors set the rooms off, which flowed right into each other. The bathroom had old school subway tile, an old rounded pedestal sink and a claw foot tub with a wraparound shower curtain rod that hung from the ceiling. I fell in love with it, with its charm. I also fell in love with the palm trees in the front yard and the old garage out back. It was such a typical California beach bungalow, like something you’d see in an old movie or on a postcard.

We went out to the backyard, sat on the patio and talked and drank beers until way in the night. It was just he and I and no one else. I think I feel in love with him that night and as soon as he gave me a small, sweet kiss on the cheek at my car, I knew we’d be together.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out,” I said.

“No big deal,” he replied with a grin. “Come on. I won’t bite, I promise.”

I couldn’t help but smile at him then follow him back into the house. We went into the bedroom and he gave me an old, but super soft t-shirt. “You can wear this to sleep in if you like and there’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom and some towels.”

I took it and smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem whatsoever.”

“Are you sure about this?” I said. “I don’t want to put you out or anything.”

“You are not putting me out,” he said. “Don’t think another thing about it.”

I bit my bottom lip and nodded. “Okay then.”

“I love your accent,” he said, grinning at me. “I have a thing for Southern girls.”

“Do you now?” I asked and grinned at him.

“Well, I didn’t until I met you.”

That was a total panty dropper thing to say. He was too good. He was such a charmer. And those looks, the way he talked… Ummm… It wouldn’t take much to jump into bed with him just to see how good it would be. I was curious but I held off. It was too soon.

He nodded. “It’s getting late. Go get some rest now. You’ll sleep good in my room. You can really hear the ocean from there.”

He was right. I did just that and had one of the most peaceful, restful nights of sleep in my life. Maybe it was the proximity to the beach and the lulling sound of the ocean. Maybe it was because, for the first time since I’d arrived in California, I felt safe. That’s how Bear made me feel, safe.

When I awoke, I smiled at the sun streaming into the room from the window. I sat up and looked around. The room was small and the bed took up most of the space. But it was a nice, old iron bed with a firm mattress. He had a dresser to the side which looked overstuffed with clothes. There wasn’t much artwork on the walls, save for the occasional nicely framed poster of some champion surfer riding a big wave.

He entered the bedroom carrying breakfast on tray. He sat it down in front of me and smiled. I smiled back and looked at all the food—waffles, eggs and bacon and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. I smiled up at him.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“You can take advantage all you like,” he said. “But it’s no trouble at all. But I bet your boyfriend never does anything like this.”

He was right about that. He never did. “Maybe he’s not the one for me,” I said and picked up a piece of bacon, staring him dead in the eye and took a bite. Like I was fooling anyone. It was obvious that Jed wasn’t the one for me. I’d tried calling him earlier and he hadn’t answered, probably because he was still pissed about our argument, so I left him a voicemail telling him it was over and that I was staying with a friend from work. And it was over. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do, but I knew I wasn’t going to be spending any more time with him.

He grinned. “You’re right. I don’t think he is.”

I smiled back and finished the bacon off, smiling at him as I chewed. I felt like, really hot for this guy. He was hot. And I mean hot. That made me hot for him. I wanted him. I’d never in my life had such a strong connection with a man before. It was very sexual and a little overwhelming but it felt right, like we were meant to meet and then we were meant to have some wild, hot sex. But I couldn’t be that easy, could I? I wasn’t a slut, never had been. I was one of those women who could take sex or leave it. But maybe I only felt that way because I’d never been adequately turned on by a man before. Until now, anyway.

“Just break up with him,” he said and took the tray off the bed and placed it on the dresser. “Tell him it’s over.”

“It’s over,” I said as he climbed over me on his hands and knees.

“Tell him you’re with me now,” he said and touched the tip of his nose to mine.

“I’m with you now,” I said as his lips brushed mine. I felt sparks explode inside of me just at that slight touch.

“Tell him you’re going to live happily ever after,” he whispered, his lips so close to mine I could feel his breath. “With me.”

“I’m going to live happily… Wait a minute,” I said, pulling back and staring into his eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m just me,” he said and brushed his lips against mine ever so softly. “I’m just Bear. Who are you?”

“Willa,” I said and opened my mouth to receive his kiss. “They call me Willa.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said and kissed me, then pulled back. “Again.”

I laughed a little, as we’d already introduced ourselves when he’d fixed my tire. But this time was different. We were really going to get to know each other now and apparently, we were going to get to know each other in the best way possible.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I replied.

He nodded and bent down and bit at my nipple through my shirt. I moaned and it hardened. He began to suck at it while his other hand went under my shirt and grabbed my other breast. He squeezed it, then began to stroke it with his thumb. I got wet at having him play and suck at my breasts like that. My hands were in his hair, then I pulled his face back to mine and we kissed. It was an awesome kiss, a good, deep, tongue stroking, eating at each other’s mouths kiss. I couldn’t get enough and found myself opening my legs and him getting between them, pressing into me, his dick already hard.

He pulled back and his lips went to my neck, stroking it slowly with his tongue, then sucking at it intently, then back to the stroking. The sensations he was giving me were sending me over the edge, making me want him. I did pause for a second and wonder what I was doing. I’d just met this guy, after all. I didn’t know him but somehow it all felt right, like we were meant to come together like this.

“I want you naked,” he said and pulled my shirt over my head, then bent down to pull off my panties. He stared at me for a long second, then smiled deeply. “You have got a rockin’ body,” he said. “How’d I get this lucky?”

How I’d gotten this lucky was the real question. I’d never been with anyone like him. The way he stared at my naked body made me feel like a woman, like someone who was wanted. And he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted all of me, every single square inch.

He bent down and kissed me as his hand went to my breast and squeezed. Ahhh, that felt so good. The hand went lower and lower until it was between my legs, playing with me down there. I moaned softly and he moved down and began to lick and suck at my breasts again, taking a nipple into his mouth and biting at it ever so slightly. I ran my hands through his hair, loving the way he was kissing me there, on my breast, while his hand was moving between my legs, teasing my clit, stroking it, making me want to come. I was about to do just that when he stopped, moved his body down and pushed his head between my legs. I almost sat up at the shock of pleasure that gave me, his lips on me down there. And he was beginning to suck at me, eat at me, all the while stroking me with his finger. He really, really got into it, giving it everything he had. There was no hesitancy here, nothing but good cunnilingus. It was too much and before I could stop myself, I found myself humping his face and coming so quickly it make my head spin. And after the orgasm dissipated, I couldn’t stop moving against his face. It’s like the orgasm gave me aftershocks or something.

Then he was back to me, to my lips, kissing me and his cock was teasing me between my legs, moving around down there before he put it all the way in. And that felt good. So, so good. He had a good sized dick and knew how to use it. He fucked me with it hard, then slowed down, sucking at my breasts, then fucked me hard again. We got into a rhythm and it was too much. I started to come again and he was right there with me, coming into me, inside of me, fucking me. And I couldn’t get enough. I wanted more. But that was it, that orgasm, that intense, soul shattering orgasm.

When it was over, he kept kissing me, holding my face with his hands, not letting me move. He pulled back and stared deeply into my eyes and said, “I think I might love you.”

I stared back and said breathlessly, “Yeah, I know how you feel.”

He cracked up, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Fine. I’ll say it. I love you. I don’t care ’cause that’s the way I feel.”

“You’re crazy,” I said and shook my head at him. “I mean it, you’re nuts.”

“Nuts about you,” he said. “Come on, say it back.”

I shook my head, even though I was feeling it. I’d never felt such a strong connection to a guy before, not even Jed, not even after we’d dated for a while. What was with this guy?

“Say it,” he said and kissed me again. “I won’t stop until you do.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll say it. You’re nuts.”

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I’ll take that. For now.”

He sighed, giving up and then laid down behind me, spooning me, pressing his face into my hair. I just lay there, my heart still beating rapidly from the sex we’d just had. Oh, but this felt good, too. I felt so alive and so refreshed. Then I realized I’d never had sex that good. It was, indeed, the best sex I’d ever had. I can honestly say that that’s probably why I stayed with him, why I fell in love. He was so good in the sack. He gave everything he had and something inside of me just turned on and I wanted what he gave and I took it greedily, even asking for more. And I gave him everything I had. Our sex life was out of this world. It really, really was. The only time we stopped having sex was when I got miffed at him for something and usually, I was only upset for a few hours. I wanted him all the time. He wanted me all the time. Our lust was literally uncontainable.

But, in reality, I didn’t think after that first time we had sex we’d stay together. He’d said he loved me, and I felt the same way about him, but who does that? Who jumps head first into a relationship right out of the gate? Well, Bear did. I didn’t think he was serious but he was. And he proved it. After a full day of hot sex—and I mean hot as he had carpet burns on both knees, as did I, —he cleaned out his entire closet, telling me it was mine. Of course, he had thrown all his clothes on the floor and left them there, but still.

“But all my stuff is at my old apartment,” I said. “And I don’t want to go back there.” Especially after I’d left the breakup voicemail on my ex’s phone. He’d left me one or two, as well, telling me he hated my guts and I was just a cold, hard bitch. How could I do this to him? What was wrong with me? Had I lost my fucking mind? If I wanted to come back, I’d better get in my car and be ready at the door with an apology. Yeah, he said that. But I knew Jed and I knew he was really hurting. He said awful things when his feelings were hurt. And I felt bad that I’d hurt them but, in my defense, I was leaving him anyway, even if I hadn’t met Bear. The fact of the matter was that I was simply sick of him. So, no, I didn’t want to see him, not this soon. Probably not ever.

“I’ll go get it,” Bear said.

“What?” I asked, a little shocked.

“Give me your key and the address and I’ll go,” he said.

“But what if Jed’s there?” I asked. “You don’t want to mess with him.”

He shrugged. “He doesn’t scare me.”

Jed scared a lot of people. He was really tall and a little imposing looking, that’s why he was always able to get bouncer and bar back jobs. If something happened in the bar, he was usually the one called on to throw the offender out. Besides that, he was a supreme hothead. He was such a hothead, many people in his own family avoided him. My own mother didn’t like him at all when we were dating.

I stared at Bear and thought about it. I imagined him and Jed in a mixed martial arts fight for a moment. They were about equally matched, though Jed might have had an inch or so on him, so it was a draw. But Bear was more muscular, so it could go in his favor. However if we brought the bedroom aspect into it, Jed would be the one tapping out. Bear had him beat all the way around in that capacity. Who would win was anyone’s guess. It would be a hard match to bet on.

“Give me the address, Willa,” he said.

“But you don’t know what’s my stuff,” I said.

He leaned back and studied me. “I think I can figure it out, Willa. Panties, bras, lady stuff. Let me have the key.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean, it’s no big deal. I can get some more stuff.”

“It’s your stuff and he shouldn’t be allowed to keep it,” he said. “That’s not fair.”

There was no talking him out of it. It was like he was a man on a mission to retrieve his fair lady’s belongings or something. So I, with much reluctance, handed the key to him. He returned a few hours later with all my stuff, plus some of Jed’s. Naturally, he had run into Jed and they’d gotten into a fight. He also had a black eye.

“But you should see him,” he said and laughed. “He’s pretty fucked up.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, dreading the answer. I grabbed his face and studied his eye. It was really bad looking. Poor thing. Oh, God, what else did Jed do to him? I’d kill Jed if he hurt him too bad.

“I mean, he’s fucked up,” he said proudly.

“Did he hurt you?” I asked.

“What? No!” He leaned back and studied me. “What do you mean, did he hurt me? You think I’ve never been in a fight before?”

“You haven’t been in a fight with Jed,” I said.

“Well, I got into one with him today.”

“If I had known you were going to pick a fight with him, I would have gone over there myself.”

“First of all, he’s pissed,” he said. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to go over there. It’s no telling what he would do.”

I just stared at him. He wouldn’t have done anything. He would have yelled and annoyed me but that would have been about it. I’d been handling Jed since high school. He’d always been putty in my hands.

“And, secondly, he threw the first punch. So, no, I didn’t pick a fight with him. But I put him down.”

My mouth dropped to the floor. “You beat Jed up? Seriously?”

“Yup,” he replied, very proud of himself, then narrowed his eyes at me. “Why? Is that surprising?”

“No one’s ever beat him up before,” I said in admiration “He’s usually the one who’s doing the beating.”

“Not today he wasn’t,” he replied very flippantly.

I was in awe. Who the hell was this guy? No one, and I repeat, no one, had ever gotten the best of Jed. That, in and of itself, was a feat. Back home, guys would pick fights with him because he was so big, perhaps to prove their masculinity. Nevertheless, he’d beat the crap out of all of them. Even so, he’d met his match in Bear. It was unreal.

I found myself falling in love with Bear, head over heels in love. He was kind, he was funny, he was protective, and he was one of the most generous, giving men I’d ever met. He made me breakfast, lunch and dinner. From scratch. He let me do whatever I wanted to the house and helped me do it. I even quit my job as a receptionist and got a job waiting tables closer to the house and he… Well, he surfed.

I didn’t know how famous he was mainly because I was from a small town in the South. We didn’t surf in the South. We hunted and fished, or at least that’s what most of our men did. Some women, too. Or we go hiking in the mountains or go mudding or rafting in the rivers. And we eat a lot of fried chicken. That was about it. Not really, but almost. But one day Bear was out surfing—what else—and I was in the garage putting some of my stuff in there when I discovered some of his trophies. And there were a lot. He’d won so many surfing competitions it was unbelievable. And they were from all over the world, too—Australia, Hawaii, Tahiti and, of course, California.

Suddenly, I began to wonder, just who was this guy?

I immediately went inside and began to Google him. What came up almost made me fall out of my chair. He was the shit. That champion surfer on the posters in the bedroom? That was him. He had been gigantic. And when he retired at the ripe old age of twenty-four, it made world headlines. “Why is Bear leaving?” It was a mystery everyone wanted to know. Why had he stopped competing? He’d had a long, very lucrative career.

“What are you doing?” he asked, coming in from the kitchen.

I glanced at him in his wetsuit, then back the computer. “Why didn’t you tell me who you are?” I asked.

“What do you mean? Who I am?” he said. “I’m just me.” He glanced over my shoulder at all the press on himself, and shook his head. “That’s all bullshit, Willa. Don’t read it.”

“Bear,” I said. “What’s the deal? Why did you quit? You had endorsement deals from the biggest surf supply companies in the world. Who walks away from something like that?”

“It was time,” he said. “I wanted to go out on top and so I did.” He grinned at me. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get some fish tacos.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s all I get?”

He nodded. “That’s all there is, baby,” he said. “Let’s be cool about it.”

I thought about it and nodded. Why not be cool about it? He was once the world’s biggest surfer and now he wasn’t. He’d made a lot of money which he’d spent partying all over the world, buying a little beach house and being overly generous with friends. I loved him for who he was, not who he’d been. And so I accepted what he’d told me at face value and I loved him for it, for who he was. And it was enough.

But now it wasn’t enough. But now, I wanted more. Now I wanted him to get back out there, get back on top and make us some money. But regardless of what I said, he wouldn’t budge. He still had a little left of what he’d earned and that got him through, along with what I made. Sometimes, he did public appearances or boat shows or things like that and brought in money, too. But mostly, it was me earning the money.

I knew we’d never have that much living the way we did and that made me angry. I didn’t want to keep doing what we were doing, living in the little beach house with no hope of ever moving to a bigger place. We lived well and we ate well, but I wanted more. And I shouldn’t have had to feel bad about wanting more. Bear loved the simple life but I was over it. He had chosen it, but I hadn’t. I was over his loser friends constantly barging into the house at all hours of the day and eating all of our food. I was over the sand on the floor all the time and the stinking wetsuits. I was over the tins of surf wax all over the patio. I was over feeling like I was living in some college kid crash pad. I was over feeling like I was stuck. I was over feeling like I was trapped.

But that’s where I was, stuck living with a man I loved and yet sometimes loathed. Maybe loathed was a bit harsh, but sometimes I felt like that. He’d been so ambitious in his earlier years and now he was just plain lazy. Why didn’t I get to enjoy any of those lucrative years with him? Well, we’d met too late, that’s why.

I knew I could make it on my own. I knew after I partnered with Quinn I’d have plenty of money. And I knew I wanted to do just that. But where did Bear fit into all this? Did he even fit at all?

Just then, he came out onto the patio and sat down in the chair next to mine. He stared at me then acknowledged Cupcake with a pat on the head. He sighed loudly and said, “If you want to, I can call my mom about the house.”

I nodded slightly and looked around. “I don’t know, Bear. I know you really don’t want to and I don’t think I can handle the guilt associated with you doing something like that.”

“We don’t have to move to have a kid,” he said.

“I’m not getting into this,” I said. “And it’s not just to have a kid, Bear. It’s to have a different life. A life not overrun by surfers and sand all over the floor all the time.” I paused and took breath. “It’s like we’re living like college students or something.”

He sighed and looked away from me. “I’ll do anything you want,” he said and turned back to me. “You know I will because I don’t want to lose you. But, Willa, please don’t take this away from me.” He grabbed my hands and squeezed them. “I am begging you, please don’t make me choose.”

I almost burst into tears. He would do anything I wanted, even giving up surfing. Well, giving up living next to the beach so he could surf whenever he wanted at least. He wouldn’t give up surfing completely. Not even for me. But he was willing to move, just to please me, just to keep me. But I couldn’t ask this man with his love of the ocean to do that. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. He lived to surf, literally. I was just the girl who waited at home. But I was going to be fine with that. At least for now. I had to let it go because this argument would lead to nowhere with him. I was wasting my time and I knew it. I just wanted to move on and just think about my new job.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I won’t ask you to choose. Just forget I said anything.”

“No, I know it means something to you,” he said. “I know that. And I want you to have what you want.”

I stared at him and smiled. “I do have what I want. It’s just sometimes the things I want keep me from getting the other stuff I want.”

He smiled and pulled me out of my seat and then into his lap. He hugged me tightly and kissed my shoulder. “You’re the best girlfriend a surfer could have.”

“I am,” I said. “And don’t ever forget it.”