Gone was the silly flirt with the bashful smile. His eyes burned with intent. She had a second to wonder what that intention might be before he showed her.
One of his warm hands slid around her waist to her exposed back, starting at the lowest point and sliding up her spine to the center where he pressed in, making her step forward as he closed the gap between them. His other hand slid under the heavy fall of her hair, curling around the side of her neck, his thumb running along her jawline. He increased pressure with his thumb and her lips parted, her breath escaping her. But his mouth was there to catch it.
He gazed into her eyes, their lips centimeters apart, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides with shoes in one hand and a hair clip in the other. Should she drop the shoes and hair clip? If her hands were free would she push him away, or would she pull his mouth down on top of hers just to experience what she was positive would be the most glorious mistake of her life?
Before she could make a decision, Brady took her mouth in a searing kiss.
It wasn't soft or slow or patient. It burned in its urgency. A collision of desire and freedom she hadn't expected to exist in a kiss.
It was only a kiss.
So why did it feel like everything?
Her hands let go of their contents and threaded through his short hair, desperate to draw him closer.
His kiss burned away all of her pride and every wall she'd spent years building. Burned them to the ground. Her mouth opened under his, his tongue invading and branding her mouth in a way it had never been touched before. She let out a soft whimper, unaccustomed as she was to being taken off guard and thoroughly pleased all at once.
This.
All of this. Burning her away.
She never wanted it to stop. She wanted him to keep kissing her until there was nothing left. All of it engulfed in flame, all the bad and good and undefined. Destroyed and finally free.
Brady tore his mouth from hers, his breath hot on her face as his eyes scanned her for any sign telling him to stop. The loss of his mouth and the cool air swirling between their faces brought her back to reality.
And like Lo did her entire life, she chose to break her own heart instead of waiting for someone else to do it. And she chose to do it in the most indelicate way possible.
“You stole my tacos.”
His head jerked as a frown darkened his expression. “What?”
She swallowed. “This morning. You stole my tacos... or, at least, your brother did.”
He abruptly stepped away from her and she released him. The loss of his nearness stole a piece of her calm and she filled the hole with regret that wasn't attributed to him.
Brady's frown intensified as he studied her with different eyes. Recognition dawned and he dropped his head.
When he raised it again, his eyes were carefully shuttered. She was no longer welcome inside. She didn't expect the thick discomfort that crept into her chest with the sudden change.
“Spencer Clementine is your...?”
“Best friend,” she supplied.
His lips pressed into a flat line and he nodded. “You bought the tacos?”
“Made them,” she corrected, her fingers twisting in front of her.
He looked to the sky and huffed a humorless laugh. “Of course you did,” he muttered. He sighed loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why didn't you say something sooner? ”
“I...I was going to.” She shook her head and swallowed before speaking too quickly. “And then you kissed me and I had run out of time, so I said it right away. But maybe I should have addressed the kiss first. I'm very confused right now.”
“But you recognized me.”
She sucked in a breath, wishing the pressure in her head would decrease. “Yes,” she wheezed.
He nodded, a muscle in his cheek jumping. “My brother and your best friend hate each other, have for more than half their lives; he stole your tacos this morning, and we ran away from you like little kids. Does that about sum it up?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “And then I met you tonight and ended up having a really great time.”
He stared at her. “Me too.”
She tried a hopeful smile. Her hair blew into her face and she batted it away in irritation.
He fought the smile on his own face and shook his head. “This is crazy.”
“Maybe it's crazy,” she said, taking a step towards him. “Or maybe it's hilarious.”
His blues eyes skated over her face, a myriad of thoughts and emotions playing out in his attractive features. “I'm sorry about the tacos,” he said gruffly.
“Okay...” She huffed an exasperated breath. “I want to know what else you're thinking.”
He invaded her space again and she welcomed it. She liked him close. The closer the better. It was stupid. Just that fact alone should have been enough to have her running the other way. But she didn't want to.
“I like you,” he said.
“Okay, great.” She nodded. “I like you, too.”
He rolled his bottom lip in and bit down on his smile. Taking a breath, he sobered. “I'm embarrassed. My fragile male ego has been badly bruised and I need a minute to... think.”
“Can I walk you back to the party?” he asked after a beat.
“Actually,” she said, realizing she could do with a minute alone herself. “I think I'll stay here if you don't mind.”
He held her eyes, then turned and walked away. Leaving her alone on the beach. She watched him go, reliving all the moments in her life when important people had done the same and she had nothing to stop them. It was a pattern she couldn't seem to escape.
She faced the sea, her hair blowing around her, the salt filling her lungs with its perennial promise. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs and the back of her eyes stung. Lo was surprised she felt such a powerful reaction to someone she had only just met.
Her fingertips brushed her still warm lips.
He'd burned away all else and left her with the most dangerous ember of all—impossible hope.
She glanced back at the lights of the party above her. She wasn't going back. Not tonight.
Instead, she hiked up her evening gown and took off for the water at a run. Her wild had been awakened by his fiery kiss and now demanded she wash away the ashes.
3
Brady
Brady had a long standing appointment. Or date. Or engagement.
Every Thursday he met Greta Brookings at his favorite cafe for breakfast.
The ritual had started years ago after he had “rescued” her from Shane's house. She'd been on a one-woman campaign to save Shane from himself and after too many drinks during a Girl's Night Out, ended up getting a ride home from the star athlete and passing out on his couch. She had woken up alone and with no money or phone. But Brady had already been waiting in the driveway to take her to breakfast.
Back then, Brady had been one of Greta's roommates and more than a little sweet on her. The fact she had started falling for his best friend and current boss had been a weird change in the dynamic of their relationship. It had been the catalyst for Brady moving out and getting a place with Bo, Steve, and Kip. Greta and Shane were married with four kids now. Two people more perfect for each other didn't exist.
Brady's feelings for Greta had changed. She was the kind of friend you couldn't let go of. Their friendship had altered, to be sure, but it was sweeter now than ever before.
Brady was glad his Thursday morning breakfast happened to come immediately after what had happened last night. He needed to talk about it with a girl. A smart one.
“So when are you gonna tell me what's bothering you?” Greta asked, pulling a piece of paper napkin out of baby Aurora's mouth.
“Where's her partner in crime?” Brady asked, unable to keep his fingers from touching the nine month old's soft dark curls. Normally Aurora was paired with her twin brother Paul.
“With his dad and brothers. They're out having a man date.” She a
dded more scrambled eggs to Aurora's plate for her chubby fists to smash.
Brady grinned, picturing his friend wrangling three boys under the age of three.
“It's just us girls today, isn't it?” She kissed her daughter's cheek and sat back in the booth. Leveling those icy blue eyes at Brady.
“Spill, Samson.”
He should've known Greta wouldn't waste time deducing there was something amiss about him. She was always good at reading people; she was even better when it was someone she was already close to.
“I met this girl last night,” he started. And stopped. Suddenly he wanted to keep the details from the night before all to himself. Protective of his embarrassment and attraction. Protective of a girl he didn't even know.
“Have you ever just met someone and it felt different?” he asked, cradling his coffee cup and leaning forward. “Like you already knew them, or you knew you were supposed to know them?”
Greta nibbled on her blueberry muffin, her sharp gaze fixed on him. “Yes...”
Brady ran a hand through his short hair and sagged back against the seat of the booth. “I kissed her.”
Greta's eyes widened. “You kissed her? But you have a policy.”
“I know,” he said, blinking slowly.
“Did you change the policy? How long have you been kissing girls you've only just met?”
His lips twitched and he looked out the window at the traffic and world beyond. Remembering the moment, the moonlight, and the music. He'd forgone the policy put in place many years ago. Never kiss on the first date, or the second. He was Mr. Relationship. He wasn't the one to hook-up or have fun for the sake of having fun. He wanted a forever girl. So he put off kissing until date three to see if the girl had any patience.
Usually they didn't make it to date three.
“Oh, you liiike her,” Greta singsonged, picking up her coffee cup.
Brady's grin was accompanied by a heating of his ears and neck.
“So what's the problem?”
He told her the problem. All about the tacos and the Stooge-esque getaway, about his dad trying to set him up, about his immediate shame due to her revelation, about walking away and leaving her behind.
Greta shook her head. “That's a lot of problems.” She leaned her elbows onto the table, her blue eyes dancing. “So you made a bad second impression. So what?”
His eyebrows arched.
“You're still you, Brady Samson,” Greta went on. “You know her name, what she does for a living. Look her up. Make it right.”
He rolled his eyes. “It was just a kiss.”
“No. A first kiss that leaves you breathless? Those things don't just happen. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to her, to find out if there's more.”
A chunk of scrambled egg hit Brady in the eye and he looked to Aurora. “You agree with your mom, huh?”
Aurora yelled and reached for Brady. He didn't hesitate as he lifted her from the highchair and high above him. The little girl, with the same eyes as her mom, squealed with delight. Brady brought her down to blow raspberries on her neck.
“Trust us,” Greta said softly, her eyes connecting with Brady's over the dark curls on her daughter's head. “Listen to your girls. Find her.”
***
“Dude, watch it!”
Brady jerked his head up in time to spray Bo in the face with the kitchen sink spigot. He let go of the lever quickly.
Bo, eyes closed, breathed in through his nose, water dripping from his face.
“Sorry, man,” Brady muttered, tossing him a towel from the counter.
Bo caught it and wiped off his face. “What is with you lately?”
Brady shook his head, sighing loudly.
“No, really,” Bo persisted, glancing into the sink of clean dishes. “We have a dishwasher. You're washing them by hand and...” He picked up a glass to hold to the light. “I'm pretty sure these were clean when you started.”
Brady pursed his lips, but didn't answer.
Bo set the glass down and clapped a hand on Brady's shoulder, turning him around. “And the house is spotless. Like a Merry Maids commercial all up in this bitch. You haven't left the house in days. What the hell is going on?” He narrowed his gaze at Brady's face. “Are you sick?”
Brady didn't know how to answer that question. Was he sick? Maybe. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he was restless to the point of concern. But there was no cure.
Well, there was, but she was impossibly out of reach.
He'd tried to find Lo. Spent two days doing it. He'd driven to Narrs and Beltzer where her boss told him she'd quit without notice the morning after the party. They wouldn't give him a phone number or address. He'd even tried to find Spencer Clementine, but she was unlisted.
And that was that.
He wasn't going to get a chance to make it right, he wasn't going to find out if what he had felt that night was an anomaly or the champagne or his imagination.
But really why? Why did the perfect girl also happen to be the best friend of his brother's nemesis? Whose sick joke was that? Not casual friend or acquaintance or co-worker? Nope. Besties.
And he couldn't get her out of his head. He was looking for her everywhere. Especially while he was at work. Every time the door opened, his head would snap to attention.
Maybe if they had met under different circumstances. Maybe if her first impression of him hadn't been his thieving and childish little brother stealing her tacos, he hadn't gotten so butthurt and embarrassed.
What he really couldn't shake was the greatest, most unbelievable kiss of his life. And now it seemed like she had vanished into thin air.
Brady's face morphed from grimace into scowl. “Don't worry about it.”
Bo rolled his eyes and headed for the front door. “Whatever. I have a tattoo appointment.” He snatched his keys off the hook and looked at Brady with impatience. “I talked to Shane yesterday. Told him about your...” His hand waved up and down Brady's body. “Whatever this is. He has a thing going on and asked if maybe you'd stop by today. So, if you're up for leaving the house anytime soon... go see him. And maybe... I don't know, leave your underwear on the floor or something. It's starting to feel like I'm living with mom again.”
Bo missed Brady's glare because he left.
Brady looked around the spotless house. Well, his brother wasn't wrong. It was painfully clean.
Fine. Maybe he'd go see Shane for a while. Getting out of the house sounded like a decent idea. Besides, he needed to check his schedule and see when he worked next.
***
Soaring Bird.
What had started out as his friend's amazing ability to spitball, had grown into a tiny empire taking over huge chunks of coastal property on both sides of the United States. Brady had known Shane Brookings since he was fifteen. Even then, he'd been able to recognize Shane was going to be amazing at whatever it was he decided to pursue. So when Shane went from casual snowboarder and surfer to gold medal winning Olympian, no one was surprised.
What he hadn't seen coming was Shane's eye for entrepreneurship. He'd started his own brand of surf and snow, Soaring Bird a couple years ago. It wasn't Billabong or Roxie yet, but it was getting there.
And, as happens when you have loyal friends you can't seem to escape, most of Shane's original crew helped him run it.
Shane reclined his large, muscular frame in his office chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “So... what do think?”
Brady was still trying to figure out if he'd heard the man correctly.
“You want someone to travel all around the world, to the most beautiful locations on the planet, on your dime, surfing?”
Shane wagged his head back and forth. “More or less. They'd also need to report back about locations and how the different boards tested and things like that. I need someone semi-responsible, articulate, honest, with an instinct for waves.” Shane sat up again, his energy barely caged. “I plan on doing the same thing with the snowbo
ards in another season. Depending on how this one works out.”
“It sounds like a dream job,” Brady said, crossing his arms over his chest, trying not to feel a little jealous. This would be perfect to get him out of his funk. Travel the world, meet new people, distract him from his crash and burn with Lo. He pushed those thoughts to the side. “How do you plan on making sure they stay on course?”
Shane chewed on his bottom lip. “There would be two of them. For a couple of reasons. One, to get differing perspectives. Two, to keep each other honest. And a small competition to help that part along.”
“What kind of a competition?” Brady asked, leaning forward. Being brought into Shane's planning stages was a huge compliment for him. He loved seeing the gears turn and how some of his bigger ideas took shape.
“No extra money. They'd have only the equipment I pack for them and their passports. Each location, whoever hits their deadline and comes in most under budget would get to choose the next location.”
“A choose your own adventure?” Brady asked with a grin.
Shane nodded, his excited expression matching Brady's. “So, what do you think?”
“How are you going to choose? Because if you put an ad out for this dream job, there might be a beach bum riot.”
Shane sucked in a breath and hesitated. “Well, I was hoping you'd be interested...”
Brady frowned. He must've missed the catch. “What's that now?”
Shane chuckled. “I've thought about it a lot and I want it to be you. You're a skilled athlete, you're responsible—”
Brady tilted his head and arched his eyebrows.
“Mostly responsible,” Shane amended. “And I respect your opinion.”
Brady filled his cheeks with air and let it out slowly. “That's high praise, Brookings.” He blinked several times and looked out the window of Shane's office to the beach in the distance. Travel, adventure, a change of scenery. “Who is the second person?”
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