One Night to Change Their Lives

by Tina Beckett

  Oh, well. It didn’t look as if that—or anything else—was going to happen. He was a no-show.

  Picking up her board, she started to move toward the sand of the nearby beach when she heard her name. Her feet quit moving.

  Garret!

  She shut her eyes and tried to stop the sudden gallop of her heart. This was ridiculous. She was not going to go all starry-eyed.

  Ha! Too late.

  Well, then, she wasn’t going to let him know how glad she was that he’d decided to come.

  She turned and there he was, tanned legs emerging from solid black board shorts. The white drawstrings at the top of his waistband teased her eyes for a split second before she jerked her gaze upward. She decided then and there she wasn’t going to try squirming into the light wetsuit she’d stuffed in her beach bag. That would be a fiasco. She’d just wear her bikini, as plenty of other surfers in Florida did.

  The racerback top was snug enough to stay in place no matter how big the wave. Besides, it was pretty obvious that Garret hadn’t brought much with him, other than himself.

  And that was plenty.

  Her mouth gave a slight twist of exasperation. She needed to get her thoughts under control.

  Sporting a black nylon exercise shirt, he had a gray beach towel draped over his left arm. His injured hand was hidden in the folds. On purpose? And there was not a surfboard in sight.

  Then again, she hadn’t expected him to buy a board just for this excursion, but the idea of him sitting on the beach watching her ride the waves made her swallow.

  Oh, no. If she was surfing, he was surfing. Or at least he was going to paddle out there with her.

  “They have board rentals at the kiosk.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “I am. Sure, that is. You need to try.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a one-track mind?” He smiled, and the transformation from the grim reaper figure of last night snatched the breath from her lungs.

  Ugh! She needed to be careful. It would be a long time before she let another pretty face charm her into giving a piece of her heart away. Leo might be over and done with, but the repercussions of their relationship were not.

  Only Garret’s face wasn’t pretty. It was rugged. With touches of danger around the edges. She’d seen a little bit of that last night when she’d probed too close to a painful area.

  “Maybe a time or two.” She smiled back.

  Keep it light and friendly, Addy. Steer clear of any flashing caution lights.

  Like that drawstring? Oh, yes, exactly like that. She didn’t let herself blink for a few seconds, afraid if she did, her pupils would head straight for—

  “I have no idea what size,” he said.

  Addy froze.

  Size? Don’t even think it!

  She took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I’ll help you choose.”

  Telling the man at the desk what they were looking for in a voice that wasn’t quite steady, she waited while he pulled a teal board from a walled-off storage area.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  She wasn’t sure at all anymore, but hadn’t she said she was going to fake it until she could make it? That flip advice suddenly didn’t sound so smart after all. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

  Fun. She had no idea how she had ever thought coming here with him would be anything short of a disaster.

  “The last time I heard that, my dau—” Any hint of a smile disappeared. His throat moved a time or two, then went still. “It was a teacup ride. And it was not a good idea.”

  It would have been funny, except for the obvious pain on Garret’s face.

  All the sexy thoughts she’d had moments ago vanished, replaced by a terrible ache in her chest. She couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through losing his daughter, even though she’d experienced her share of loss in the emergency room. Every single child she was unable to save was imprinted on her brain. The names were long forgotten, but the faces weren’t. Nor were the tears shed by those who’d loved them.

  And then there was her mom.

  And this was not what she wanted to think about right now. “Well, this is nothing like a teacup ride. It’s more like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.”

  “Mr. Toad’s what?”

  “It’s a ride the theme park in Florida is famous for.” She glanced at him for a second. “It doesn’t go in circles, but it does go up and then plummets, and has plenty of stops and starts to keep you busy. That’s what I’d compare surfing to.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  She laughed, and the atmosphere changed in an instant. Once he’d paid his rental fee, he hefted his board onto his shoulder, his bicep flexing in a way that made her tummy tighten. Just like that day at the hospital.

  It wasn’t the way people normally carried their boards, and it broke the unwritten etiquette about how to transport them, but it worked. And it looked good. Very good.

  Or maybe it was just him. Several women’s heads had already swiveled in their direction.

  Only then did she realize that he was using his bad hand to hold the board in place. So he could use it, when he had to. He tended to try to keep that hand out of sight. At least she’d noticed him doing that in his office and when they were caring for the house-fire victims.

  She wondered if he was even aware of it. But the hand, riddled with red and white scars from his burns, was able to curl perfectly around the rim of the board.

  A claw game.

  If he didn’t have to flex and extend his fingers, then they were useful.

  To avoid staring more than she already had, she hiked her beach bag onto her shoulder and tucked her own board under her arm. She then led the way to the beach where some other surfers were already riding the waves. It looked like the perfect day to learn. The waves weren’t all that high. Normally that would be a disappointment, but in this case she was glad of that fact. He’d talked about his hand being a detriment, but she didn’t know how true that would be when it came to surfing. If he was self-conscious and worried about how it might appear to others, then it might make him clumsy about manipulating his board in the water. She stopped halfway to the ocean, set her board and beach bag down and spread her towel on the sand.

  “We’re a long way out, aren’t we?”

  “It’s low tide. We don’t want to come back and find out the water stole our clothes, do we?”

  A muscle twitched in Garret’s cheek as he set his own things down next to hers. “No. We wouldn’t want to find our clothes gone.”

  Oh, Lord. She hadn’t exactly worded that very well, had she?

  Too late. She was picturing them—a very naked them—standing on the shore, muttering about their missing garments. Garret’s shorts were floating, those pesky drawstrings waving goodbye as they traveled away on ocean currents.

  Trying to quickly change the subject, she sat on the towel and kicked off her sandals. “Are you ready for a crash course on riding the waves?”

  “I didn’t think I had a choice back at the kiosk.”

  “You don’t. I’m only here because you wouldn’t let me stay at work.” She shook her head to keep him from making a comment. “And you were right. I have been working too many hours. I’ll try to do better.”

  “Your ex. Is he causing trouble?”

  She rolled her eyes. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring up the scene outside the ER. “He is, but I can handle him.”

  “Are you sure? I can intervene, if you want.”

  “Not necessary, but thank you. He decided he wants to do counseling.”

  Garret shot her a quick look. “And will you?”

  “It’s not the kind of counseling you’re thinking of. It’s divorce counseling called The Amicable Parting of Ways. It’s his new girl
friend’s idea. She and I were once friends, and she’s decided she wants to kiss and make up.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him no. I have no interest in trying to stay friends with either of them. I’m sorry our messy split was put on public display in the hospital loading zone, though.”

  “Not your fault at all.” He dropped his own board onto the sand and put his towel next to hers. Staring out over the ocean, he grimaced. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to make a good surfing student.”

  “I bet you’ll surprise yourself. Let’s go ahead and get started.”

  Since she’d already slathered herself in sunscreen just so she wouldn’t have to do it in front of him, she stood and hesitated for a second. But there was no way she was going into the water with her shorts and T-shirt on. And she wasn’t going to turn her back on him like a shy schoolgirl either. This was Florida, and they were both adults. They’d both been married—were both doctors—so they’d seen the human body thousands of times. It was no big deal.

  Taking a deep breath, she stripped her shirt off and then shimmied out of her shorts, standing in front of him in just her red bikini.

  She thought the color drained out of Garret’s face, but he quickly got up as well and yanked his shirt over his head in one quick motion, using his good hand.

  Her lungs seized, and her heart tripped over itself several times before tumbling into a chaotic rhythm she was powerless to control.

  And that was when Addy knew she was in trouble. Big, big trouble.

  Garret tried to replicate the fancy move Addy had shown him on the beach. But while she was able to scramble to her feet with easy grace and ride the wave in, he’d swallowed so much salt water that he was pretty sure the ocean levels had dropped an inch or two.

  Dragging himself in to shore, he carried his board the way he’d seen Addy and others do it—under his arm. It was kind of a necessity, since the tether attached to his ankle didn’t stretch far enough to put the board back on his shoulder. When he reached where she stood he groaned. “I am never going to be a surfer. I still can’t get it.”

  “The pop up isn’t easy.” She dropped her board onto the beach, then pushed aside some sand so her fins were buried. “Let’s practice it again.”

  Practice? He’d watched her, but there was no way he’d been willing to copy her. He’d barely been able to keep his knuckles from dragging on the ground as he’d tried to pay attention. The way her back arched on the board put his senses on alert. Not that they weren’t already.

  He glanced around the beach, which seemed even more crowded than it had a half hour earlier. “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, people do it all the time. It’s how they teach surfing. Afraid someone will look at you?”

  He was sure people were already looking. But not at him. At her. That fire-engine-red bikini she had on had set a few embers burning, and the longer they were out of the water, the harder that was to conceal. The top was some kind of weird halter-top-looking thing with straps that gathered together in the back. But it fit like a glove and was somehow sexy as hell.

  It was absurd and maddening but there was absolutely nothing he could do about his reaction to it. He’d tried.

  Hell, he’d done everything he could think of. His libido was going all caveman on him and it was driving him crazy, which was where his knuckle-dragging thoughts from a few minutes earlier came from. All he wanted to do was to stay in the water until it was time for them to get dressed and go home.

  And then he was never going surfing with her again.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Okay, I’ll show you again. Watch the way my legs move.”

  Not a problem. He was watching her legs and everything above them. And if she kept phrasing things that way, he was going to have to go stand waist deep in the ocean for his own sanity.

  And she never gave him a chance to refuse, lying down on her board in one smooth move. “Okay, so you’ve already paddled out and have now turned to face the shore. You’re in the center of the board and your feet are on the tail.” She arched her back, and there it went again. The swallowing of saliva. The inner panic that he was going to lose it.

  “There’ll be a moment where you feel yourself picking up momentum as the wave catches you. Put your hands under your chest and push hard, and kind of jump onto your feet.”

  She demonstrated in one fluid move, her hips moving in time to an imaginary wave. “Now you’re riding it, all the way in to shore.”

  This was bad. Very, very bad.

  Before he’d totally recovered, she went back into a prone position on the board and showed him all over again. “And that’s the pop up. If that doesn’t work for you, you can push off, get your back knee under you, plant your front foot and stand. Whichever method, it’s got to be fast. Explosive, even. If you take too long getting to your feet, you’ll fall off. Basically, your front foot should end up where your chest was on the board.”

  The last way looked a little more doable on a moving board. “I can try that kneeling method.”

  Anything to stop those long limbs from demonstrating again. And keep her from talking about riding anything.

  “Great. Let’s try it again, then.”

  Once in the water, he shook his head. Hell, whether he got upright on the board or not, her moves were going to haunt him long into the night.

  He paddled beside her, and tried to concentrate on what she’d told him. There! A wave was forming in the distance. Following her lead, he turned around and started paddling, keeping his chin up.

  Damn. There it was. That push she’d talked about. In one quick move he shoved himself onto a knee and suddenly found himself standing sideways on his board. For all of a second, before he dived headfirst into the water. Again.

  But he’d stood!

  “Plant your feet further apart,” she yelled when he came up. “You almost had it.”

  Three tries later, he was on his feet, shaky as hell, but he stayed up, trying to follow the quick movements of his board. This time when he jumped off it was on his terms.

  “Great job, Garret! You did it!” Her smile was wide and excited, and she held up her right hand for a high five. He smacked her palm with his, their fingers twining together for a second or two as a feeling of victory stole over him. He’d actually done it. He’d surfed. Something he’d never done in his life—never had a desire to do. But it was exhilarating and his hand hadn’t given him much of a problem at all. Flattening it on his board to push himself up was painful, so he’d allowed it to curl in on itself instead, as he did when he did push-ups. It had worked like a charm.

  Well, not exactly, but at least it hadn’t kept him from doing what he wanted to do. As it had with surgery.

  He’d had an ortho guy tell him he could probably help stretch his tendons so he was better able to open his hand, but it would never be the way it once was. He’d opted not to have additional surgery. As long as he could zip his pants and button his shirt, it would have to do. And there was always the possibility that surgery would make things worse, if there were complications.

  They released their hold on each other and carried their boards onto shore. Addy released the clip holding her hair back and shook it out as they sat down, finger-combing out the tangles and adjusting the bottom edge of her bikini top. “Do you like it?”

  His mind blanked out for a second before he realized she wasn’t talking about the curls she’d set free or her swimwear. Lord, he could see the hard press of her nipples.

  He shut his eyes for a second.

  “Garret?”

  Oh. The surfing. Had he liked it?

  He actually had. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d high-fived someone. And the way she’d gripped his hand afterward...

  Yes. He’d liked it.

  “I did. Than
k you for asking me to come.” He undid the Velcro tether around his ankle and leaned back on his elbows, the heat from the sun jump-starting the drying process. “I may have to look into buying a board.”

  “Seriously?” Her brows went up and a smile hovered around the corners of her mouth.

  “Seriously.” He liked making her smile. Liked her jubilation over his successful ride on that last wave.

  And that should worry him. Everything about today should worry him. He’d screwed up one woman’s life, making her walk a lonely path before she finally threw in the towel. He didn’t need to repeat that with anyone else.

  But it was one day. One great day, where he could leave his dark past and his mistakes behind. It wasn’t likely to last, so why not enjoy it to its fullest?

  She turned toward him, face tilted upward to catch the sun. Her hair pooled on the ground behind her. His hand ached to touch it to see what the salt did to those shiny locks.

  “How is Grace and her family?” she asked. “Have you heard?”

  It took a minute to drag his thoughts from touching things to where they needed to be. “The house-fire victims?”

  “Yes.”

  “I actually went in to the hospital to check on Matthew and his mom before coming to the beach. It’s why I was a few minutes late. They’re doing really well. The grandmother arrived just as I was leaving, so Grace will have some help with the kids when they go home.”

  “That’s great.” She paused. “I actually thought you were standing me up.”

  “If Matthew hadn’t been doing well, I might have. But I would have called to let you know.” He frowned. “You really thought I wouldn’t come?”

  “I wondered. After last night—”

  His head tilted sideways. “The argument with your ex?”

  “No, your reaction to my suggestion about teaching.”

  He’d had a pretty strong reaction to that. He’d realized almost as soon as he’d left that he’d been abrupt to the point of rudeness. He’d already apologized, but felt the need to do it again. “Sorry. I’ve just had several people ask me the same thing. You know the old saying, don’t you? ‘Those who can, do—those who can’t, teach.’”