Playa Colorado was exactly what you'd expect a resort like Hacienda Iguana to offer for surfing. Too many boats for Lo's taste. But unpredictable waves and barrels the likes of which she had only dreamed about. A good middle ground for moderate to serious surfers. Too big for amateurs, but not so big it was terrifying.
The water lapped at her legs and her hands braced on the second board she was trying out in as many days. Shane and Clarke had sent the equipment. And a crap ton of extras, like the wet suit she had donned that morning. Lo had delved into the boxes with childlike abandon on Christmas morning. She wanted to try everything all at once and was grumpily reluctant to admit she wouldn't have time before they left Nicaragua.
A tall figure appeared on the beach. She watched Brady drop his stuff beside her stuff and braced his hands on his hips, eyes pointed to her.
She grinned.
Yesterday, their first full day at the resort, they had explored the beach and waves mostly together. Brady was taking his appointment as her protector very seriously. By late afternoon, it was driving her crazy.
She liked him. A lot. Too much. But she was also used to doing things on her own. She'd always been fiercely independent and having a second shadow was really harshing her mellow. She was feeling crowded. And when she felt crowded, she got competitive.
He treated her like she couldn't handle what she'd signed up for. He only let her have baby waves and low peaks. Frustrating didn't cover it.
So she'd gone to bed early, and had headed to the beach pre-dawn. Being careful to sneak out without waking him.
Brady's posture at the moment indicated his thoughts on the matter, which only amused her.
She felt the wave coming before she saw it, a connection to the sea that had been there since the day she was born, and began to paddle fiercely with her arms. The water swelled beneath her, the power and the force lifting her heart into her throat.
It never got old. The intense realization she was just a passenger in another breathtaking ride.
The wave began to curve and fold and she dropped into it, eyes on the rapidly closing circle of daylight at the other end of the tunnel. A backside tube hadn't been on the agenda, but then again, she never made a plan. She let the water do the decision making. She dropped a knee to the board and gripped the outside rail for balance while the fingers of her other hand stretched out and touched the dark blue water, feeling the raw cyclonic power churning behind her.
Her exit opened up and she took it, leaving the tube before she was ready. But she was never ready for a ride like that to end. Part of her would stay with the wave and crash with it along the shoreline, even as she curved her board around and settled back into the mediocrity of life.
That wasn't a fair sentiment. Nothing about life was mediocre. But when compared to riding a backside tube at dawn at Playa Colorado?
***
Brady
Brady held his breath as he watched Lo exit the tube and carve lazily towards the shore. She swung unto her belly and began paddling back out again. Of course she did.
He knew a lot of different types of surfers. Hell, he was friends with Shane Brookings for Pete's sake. Clarke and Greta were arguably the most talented females he'd ever seen on a wave. Greta was fearless, and Clarke was passionate.
But Lo...
He'd never seen that before.
She made riding a backside tube look effortless. Elegant. Graceful.
Yesterday, he'd been all over her every move, crowding her waves and keeping her safe from inevitable destruction. Her bruised face was a constant reminder to him she was clumsy and unpredictable. It was a frustrating combination of feelings for him. At the same time he'd been feeling disappointed he had to keep track of someone when he'd been hoping he'd be able to explore Playa Colorado on his own terms.
Fearless, passionate, insane.
She had ridden that tube like some sort of dark angel, at ease in a cyclone of phenomenal power.
Brady swallowed, realizing the situation he was in. If he were being honest with himself, he'd expected to easily beat her at this gig. He was more experienced, older, wiser, stronger. He'd anticipated teaching her and showing her what it meant to love the sport. The difference between a hobbyist and an athlete.
He was an egotistical and foolish bastard.
Of course Clarke would choose someone with just as much if not more talent than him.
He'd been worried about falling for her. Caring too deeply and maybe even stepping back in the competition just to see her smile. He had been anticipating the temptation of letting her win.
The ocean swelled again, gaining speed and gathering Lo along with it. He watched as she soared and skimmed along the curve, her body and method tight. But unique.
He'd never seen anything like it.
Goosebumps broke out along his arms and shoulders.
Lo was going to kick his ass.
He's spent the day before watching her back and making sure she didn't take any peaks he deemed “too difficult” for her. No wonder she wasn't speaking to him by the end of the day.
Fine.
It was a competition after all, it was time Brady embraced it.
***
Lo
“I'm just gonna say it,” Lo announced, propping her board up next to Brady's on the stone patio. “Today was a much better experience for me than yesterday.”
She bent at the waist and twisted the water out of her hair.
Brady didn't say anything. He watched her movements, his face unreadable, then tossed her a towel.
“Except for the boats, though,” she added mostly to herself.
“I'm gonna shower and make dinner,” Brady announced. He waited for her eyes before nodding and then entering the beach house.
Lo stared after him, trying to figure out if he was upset or just tired. Probably tired. He'd been fighting some pretty rough peaks all day.
She stripped out of her wet suit, heading for the bathroom that was adjacent to her chosen bedroom. Only two rooms in the house had king-sized beds. She'd picked one and Brady had taken the other. The remaining two bedrooms each had two single beds, making the house ideal for a trip including a bunch of friends, or even a couple families. The resort itself was clean, friendly, affordable. Lo wasn't sure if they were supposed to be reviewing their accommodations on the blog as well as the equipment and beaches, but she was going to talk about it anyway.
She showered away the salt and sand, washing her hair twice to be sure. Her body protested in small ways as she dressed in yellow terry cloth shorts and a black gauzy tank top. The smell coming from the kitchen pulled her down the hall in a trance.
“Fish tacos?” she asked, peeking around the corner.
Brady's lips twitched as he stirred the meat around in the skillet. “You have radar.”
Lo snickered and crossed over to the living room. “How are your muscles feeling?” she asked, sitting down slowly on the floor and stretching her legs out in front of her.
“Kinda tight. Not too bad.”
“You took a pounding out there today,” she said, stretching forward and pulling back on her toes. She breathed into the stretch, relaxing her back muscles and concentrating on the pull.
“What are you doing?”
“Stretching.”
Brady grunted and again, Lo couldn't interpret his response.
“I poured you a glass of wine,” he said.
She jerked her head up. His back was still turned to her as he worked over the stove top. Slowly getting to her feet, she approached the counter where two glasses of white wine rested.
“Thank you,” she said, watching him and taking one of the glasses.
Deciding to stretch later, she slid onto one of the stools at the bar and continued to watch. Brady was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a white tee that stretched over his back and arms. Probably his chest, too, but she couldn't see that. The kitchen was big for a beach house, but he easily filled it. His height an
d lean muscles becoming the focal point.
“So, why are you making tacos again?” she asked, planting an elbow on the bar and dropping her chin into her fist.
Brady glanced over his shoulder at her and she wasn't certain, but she thought she saw an actual smile.
“It's all I bought for supplies. All done stretching?”
“For now. Did you have fun today?” she asked, wondering why he hadn't said anything about it yet.
Brady turned the burner off and moved the skillet over. He spoke while he took out plates and tortillas and sliced vegetables from the fridge.
“I did. Not as much as you, I think, but it's still early.” He leaned his hip to the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
Yep, the shirt was tight on his chest too.
“Watching you in that backside tube this morning almost killed me.”
Lo couldn't help it, she laughed. “What? Why?”
Brady took a slow breath, his eyes skating over her face. “If I tell you the truth, you'll lose all respect for me.”
“You're assuming I have so much,” she teased, taking a sip of her wine.
Brady pressed his lips together. Crossing the kitchen he rested his forearms on the bar directly across from her. Lo took another sip of wine, trying to bolster herself against his intoxicating proximity.
“I didn't know you were that good,” he said, his voice coming out low and rumbly.
Lo felt her cheeks heat. “And now?”
Brady's eyes dropped to her lips, she licked them out of reflex and he took a slow, deep breath.
“Now, I'm going to be watching my back,” he said, the gravel in his voice heavier even as his voice dropped more in volume. “Because you're outstanding.”
Lo let his words slide through her and wrap around her dopamine receptors. Brady Samson was dangerous for her brain.
He pushed back from the bar and served up dinner. The rest of the evening was actually very nice. Chill. They talked about the things they liked and didn't like about Shane's equipment, did the dishes, went to bed.
Lo was so tired, she was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. Belly full of tacos, heart full of adventure, head full of happy.
8
Lo
Son of a bitch!
Lo pushed her hair out of her eyes and frantically scanned the living room and kitchen, knowing nothing had changed since her first look. Her hair fell in her face again and she snarled.
Going to bed with a wet head always left her looking like she'd just walked out of a Guns N' Roses music video. But she had planned on waking up and going straight to the beach. She should be covered in salt water and sand by now.
The red numbers of the clock by her beside glared at her. It was almost noon.
Noon!
When she'd lazily rolled over that morning and the sun hit her face, she knew.
She scrambled out of her jammies and blindly grabbed a bikini out of the equipment bag. She was going to kill him. Brady Samson, handsome saboteur, was going to die at the hands of Halo Fredericks, who was not an angel in any respect.
He had tricked her. And now he would pay.
***
Brady
Brady used both hands to sweep his wet hair out of his face after he'd righted himself on his board. The sea rocked with heavy boat traffic and he was even more thankful he'd gotten up early that morning.
His eyes tracked in the direction of the beach house. Still no sign from Lo. The harsh shadows created by the noon sun gave him a sense of devious satisfaction, which he suffocated immediately. She had been really tired and she deserved some extra sleep.
It was the same thing he'd told himself at midnight when he'd crept into her room and shut off her alarm.
He shouldn't feel as good about it as he did, but he'd had some pretty epic rides that morning. And for the first time in a long time, he'd thoroughly enjoyed himself. He hadn't had to worry about anyone else's safety. The ocean was his playground and he basked in the wildness of it.
Another choppy wave from a boat's eddy rocked him and he growled under his breath. He'd already gotten all the good waves that day. Might as well head in for lunch and see if Lo was awake yet.
Even the paddle back to the shore was rough, and by the time he'd pulled his board out of the water and tucked it under his arm, he was ready for a rest.
He shook his head, ridding this hair of excess water, and trudged up the beach towards the house.
Curse words and irritated mutterings greeted him as he rounded the corner and froze.
The Rover was loaded up; a board strapped to the top, a cooler, and Lo's duffel visible in the open hatch.
Lo rounded the Rover and tossed the equipment bag inside as well, then slammed the door closed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, coming to a stop.
She faced him, her green eyes skimming over his chest wall. “Have fun this morning?”
He frowned. “What are you doing?” he repeated slowly.
“I can't believe you shut off my alarm clock, Brady! That's messed up!”
Water dripped into his eyes and he blinked it away, trying to keep eye contact with her. “It's a competition, Lo. I was just trying to catch up to you.”
She took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest, measuring his words. “It's messed up,” she repeated.
Brady shrugged. “Maybe. But it worked. You obviously needed the sleep, you look great, by the way. I just wanted to get a few rides in on my own.”
Her eyes narrowed in the dangerous way that happened with females. The way that let him know he was going to pay for this later and he would never see it coming.
“Do not attempt to use flattery to justify your actions.”
He swung an arm out in exasperation. “What's the big deal? You beat me to the beach yesterday.”
She stepped up to meet him, toe to toe, craning her neck up. “Yeah! I beat you fairly. I set my alarm and got up early. I didn't have to resort to cheating to get what I wanted.”
“Cheating? That seems a little dramatic,” he said dryly, wondering when he had become his brother. Turning off the alarm was a trick Bo would do.
Lo snorted and uttered the words every man hates to hear. “Fine. Whatever.” She stomped over to the driver's side door and yanked it open, Brady was right behind her. He braced a hand on the door and slammed it closed.
“I'll ask again,” he said, his patience wearing thin. “What are you doing?”
Lo's eyes flashed angrily as she spun around to face him, her petite size suddenly irrelevant as she rose up on her toes and got in his face.
“I had an idea last night and I was going to invite you along this morning. But you deemed me unworthy to surf with you, turned off my alarm—which, by the way, is a huge invasion of privacy! You came into my room while I was sleeping, you psycho!—so now you can stay here on this overly crowded beach and battle for decent peaks. I am going south for my last two days!”
She pivoted around again and opened the door. Again, Brady slammed it shut.
“Stop doing that!” she yelled at him, her face red and getting redder by the second.
“We have to stay together,” he said, wondering where this irrational person had come from. This was not the same happy-go-lucky girl he'd been spending time with. This chick was a hurricane of epic proportions and he hadn't been prepared for this.
“You can't just leave because you got mad at me.” He saw the bulge of keys in her front pocket and clenched his jaw. “This is exactly the reason I wanted to go out alone this morning. How am I supposed to enjoy myself when I'm constantly babysitting you.”
Her mouth fell open and her eyes went round. Brady took advantage of her shock at the words he knew he was going to have to apologize for and dropped his board on the ground next to them, curled one arm around her waist to hold her still, reached into her pocket with his free hand, and took the keys back. She gasped at the quick and invasive action, shoving
him away too late after the fact.
Brady held the keys in front of her face and smirked. “Good luck leaving now.”
Shane was going to get a phone call. This was ridiculous. How was he supposed to make this work with someone so incredibly reckless and unreasonable?
Brady marched back into the beach house, determined to wait her out. She would cool down, they would talk, and everything would be—
Two arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck as two toned legs wrapped around his waist. Brady stumbled forward, almost falling into the living room.
“Give me back the keys!” Lo demanded, one of her hands sliding down his arm and stretching vainly for the keys Brady clenched in his fist.
Brady held them further out and used his other hand to grip her thigh. How in the world...? She must have the launching capabilities of a cat.
“First, you calm down,” he said, trying to keep from yelling. “We'll talk, you'll apologize, and we'll get this sorted.”
“I'll apologize?” she exclaimed. She shifted her tiny body and too late, Brady discovered how strong she was. Her lithe and trim body wasn't for show. Those moves she executed on the surfboard with the wild ocean surrounding her had taught her how to use the power to her advantage. She maneuvered to his front, her legs still wrapped tightly around him, but now they were face to face, explosive and determined green eyes inches away from him.
Brady stood rigid, holding both of his arms straight by his side. “Yes,” he ground out. “You'll apologize for being completely insane!”
Lo gasped loudly. “I am not insane!”
His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Really? Have you seen where you are right now?” He swung an arm towards where the Rover was parked out back. “You were so mad at me, you were going to drive away alone! That's so insanely scary, I can't even think about it!”
“I'm not afraid!” she shouted in his face.
“Well I'm terrified!” he bellowed right back.
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