“Well, I’m not playing. There are other competitions and tours. Less well known with smaller purses. Some for charitable causes.”
Finn nodded, a little jerky, as if over eager. “You’re going back. I know it.”
“I can’t not surf. You’ve seen that.” Kerry felt herself relaxing. The hands on her back had lightened to pats, and her muscles were so loose, she melted into the table. “I want to take you out one night to the Point, or ‘The End.’ It’s illegal to surf there because of the fishermen’s lobby, but there’s a huge left break under the cliff. You can see it from the lighthouse.”
“Why left break? I’m still learning.”
“We’re both goofy foots. That’s why we fit together when surfing tandem.” Her voice grew dreamy. “You’ll learn why left breaks are better for us. The majority of the surfers are regular footed and lean naturally toward the left, so a wave breaking right to left keeps them facing the trough. For us, our backs are turned on a righty, but a giant lefty is the stuff of dreams.”
“Let’s do it.” His mesmerizing eyes sucked her in and held her, warm and safe.
“It’ll be dangerous. For experienced surfers only, it breaks over rocks and boulders.”
“I’m a Ranger. I have to fight underwater, and I can hold my breath.”
“Except you’re fighting humans, not the ocean.”
“Or the sharks.” His eyes hardened from warm brownie to glacier mud.
“Yeah, sharks, the great white’s moving north from New Jersey, so you better be ready to surf it soon.” Kerry swallowed deep in her throat. She’d already seen the excited tweets of local Montauk surfers and surf fishermen tracking the shark.
“I know. She’s got a twitter account. I’ve been tweeting her.” Finn’s face crinkled into a half smile.
“That was you? ArmySurfDude?”
“Yeah, I asked the shark if she was going to visit us, and she said she loves the Point. It has a great view.”
“Army brat!” She let go his hand and ran it up his arm along the tattooed serpent to the face of the Viking, while the masseuse rubbed warm oil on her back, softening and dissipating the remnants of tension. Her eyes closed, as the massage became gentle, finishing up. She could stay like this forever, next to him, her brave-hearted warrior.
Embrace the fear and tuck him into your heart.
Would it be so bad to fall into the drama? Vacation lovers from opposite ends of the globe. Two lost and lonely souls together by accident. Their attraction was fierce, but so were their wounds. She could almost see the screenplay and the movie, except it would end with tears—lots of tears, and heartache, sharp and slicing.
It would never work. She could never leave the fear that kept her alive and vigilant. And no matter what, she could never keep Finn safe. She could never love a warrior, especially one so brave and caring.
Kerry pushed from the massage table with tears in her eyes. “I’m finished. Thanks.”
# # #
Back at the cottage, Finn thumbed through the old DVDs and videos left in the boys’ cave upstairs in the loft. Kerry had gone to a yoga class on the beach, claiming the need for some alone time.
He was really ruining her vacation, and he shouldn’t have brought up the shark. Except it had pissed him off when she acted like he couldn’t handle the surf. He’d conducted raids wearing night vision goggles, been dropped in hostile mountainous terrain in freezing temperatures, and while he hadn’t had to recon in the jungles, he had had training in the Florida everglades to deal with underwater combat.
Except he was stupid to bring up a shark. It was no joke to Kerry. She’d narrowly escaped losing her leg, whereas he was just a big blowhard who’d blown it again.
Finn slipped the Jaws DVD into the player and turned on the TV. It served him right to spend the evening alone. After thanking him for the massage and trying to pay for it, Kerry had announced she wanted a few days going their separate ways except for the morning surfing lessons.
The movie was a bore, overdone and stupid. Finn couldn’t believe the amount of hype the shark brought to Montauk. Even Siena and Dex had a picture of themselves in a set of jaws pinned on the refrigerator. Meanwhile, down at the marina, captains and charter boats were gearing up for the annual shark fishing tournament.
He grabbed a bottle of local craft beer from the refrigerator and flipped through a business magazine he found on the coffee table. It featured Dex Remington and his company, Thrive Entertainment. Dex credited his company’s success to the people who worked with him—not for him. Dex was never a guy to hog the limelight.
Finn turned the page and came face to face with a group picture of Dex and his staff: game designers, testers, and artists.
Safire was one of the artists. He’d loved her, or thought he did, except she wanted him to leave the Army. Their whirlwind romance had crashed and burned, and everyone had blamed him when she had to take stress disability—unable to deal with the danger he put himself in on a daily basis.
Finn ran his finger over her pretty face. She’d enchanted him with her slanted Asian eyes and her silky black hair. He’d thought she was the one for him when he’d met her at NightCaps with her coworkers. He’d been so sure, just like he was now sure Kerry was the one.
Why couldn’t he be as lucky as his father who’d known right away the moment he saw his mother? Finn put the magazine down as the landline rang.
He walked over to the counter and picked up the phone.
“You Dex Remington?” a male voice said with an aggressive tone.
“Why? What do you want?” Finn wasn’t backing down from the testosterone.
“I know she’s there, so don’t bother lying. You tell Kerry Mills she better get her butt down to Mexico next week.”
“Who are you and where do you get off telling Kerry what to do?”
“I’m Jared Dunbar. She’s in breach of contract. Since she’s no longer disabled, she’s legally obligated to fulfill the terms and surf for me.”
“You’re an ass. By the way, I’m not Dex Remington, and even if I were, I still wouldn’t pass the message on for you.”
“You the buff guy with the ink, surfing and carrying on with her at the beach?” Jared’s voice deepened to a growl.
“Yes, I am, and I’m going to kick your ass if you ever bother her again.”
“I’m not worried a bit. Kerry will be back in my bed before you blink. She knows which side of the bread has the butter.” The jerk hung up.
The screen door slapped and Kerry stepped across the living room, loaded down with shopping bags. “Who was that?”
“No one. Wrong number.” Finn picked up the magazine and brushed by her, heading to the master bedroom.
He’d been wrong with Safire, and he was wrong with Kerry, too. His father was wrong. There wasn’t any one woman out there for him. There could be zero, one, or many, and at this point, Finn's score stood at a big goose egg.
Chapter Thirteen
Two days went by in full awkwardness. Each morning, Kerry gave Finn surfing lessons. She moved him further and further from the shore and found rougher water. He was not only a natural athlete, but fearless and strong.
Afterward, she’d spend the day shopping or hiking, while he went out to the marina and hung out with the surf fishermen.
They’d eat separately and Kerry would retire upstairs before he returned—always alone. Not that she was monitoring, because she had no claim on him. Maybe he was considerate and had his release during the daytime in the hotel rooms of rich women or the bedrooms of the fishermen’s wives.
Kerry watched the ocean darken from her second story window as the evening light faded away. Had she reconnected with herself? Figured out what she wanted to do? Jared had texted her and left voicemail, and she’d deleted each one without reading or listening to him.
She’d surfed every morning and hadn’t even checked on the shark status. Her friendship with Finn was decent and respectful, and neither had trie
d to kiss or touch the other. They both knew time was short, and their hearts were fragile. She’d never toy with his, and he wasn’t going all swoon-eyed and romantic on her either. As for sex, that was a primitive itch, and she could hold off if it meant protecting her emotions. What she needed most was to get back on the surfboard and scour the earth for the largest waves, and do it all for others—for charity and not for fashion or sponsorship or money or fame.
So, why did she feel so hollow and empty?
Her ears perked on alert when she heard the creak of the screen door. She narrowed her eyes, listening for the footsteps, cringing lest she heard the sound of a woman’s voice or the clip-clopping of high heels.
The door thumped shut, and the lock was latched. A single set of heavy footsteps thudded toward the kitchen, and Kerry let out a breath of relief. He was alone, except he could still be reeking of perfume and marred by smeared lipstick on his rugged jaw.
Kerry flew down the stairs. She had to catch him before he’d washed off the evidence. Her heart pounding and her pulse swishing behind her ears, she slammed into Finn’s wide body right as he turned the corner from the kitchen toward the master suite.
“Whoa, whoa, where’s the fire?” He held onto her a moment longer than necessary before releasing her.
“I, uh, was just, nothing, and …”
“And what? Did you have a nightmare again?” His brown eyes bore into her with a depth that both heated and chilled her.
“No, no nightmare.”
“Good. Did you have a nice day?” His face was back to almost expressionless, and his voice was flat and restrained.
“No, except for the morning. The rest was nothing. It was too hot and humid. Got a few mosquito bites at the state park. Nothing exciting.”
“If you want exciting, we should do it tonight. You know, surf ‘The End.’” He rubbed his stubbly jaw, and she wished she could rub her face against his. “Moon’s waning so if we want any moonlight, we gotta go.”
“The shark. I haven’t looked.” Her breath came out too fast, and her heart amped. Whether it was because of being so close to him, or residual worry about the shark, she didn’t care.
“I checked this morning. She was last seen wandering around the City, but went out to sea and dove deep.” He smoothed a strand of her hair from her face. “You’re not worried, are you?”
“No, no worries.” She flashed a smile. “I’m ready then. Let’s go after midnight.”
“Great. I’ll set an alarm and catch a few hours shuteye.”
“No.” She grabbed his forearm. “Siena’s coming in a few days, and I want to surprise her with her favorite dessert—hot fudgy brownies smashed into a scoop of French vanilla ice cream. Let’s bake a trial run tonight.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “A model who eats brownies and ice cream?”
“Shhh …” she slipped a finger over his lips. “Not a word to anyone.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He caught onto her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “I missed you. Is that okay for me to say?”
Kerry bit her lip as happiness flooded her, and warmth washed over her like a waterfall of frothy surf. “Yes, yes. I missed you, too. I don’t know why I got all strange. Truce?”
“Yeah, truce.” A shy smile lit his face. “Let’s whip up some awesome sauce brownies for our last bite before our midnight rendezvous.”
# # #
Finn was starting to feel his old mojo back. His pulse picked up, and he practically pranced to the kitchen behind Kerry. Back before his mother died, he was her helper whenever she baked the brownies and cookies for the securities firm where she was a secretary.
“Okay, where do we start?” He washed his hands and dried them on his pants.
“I’ve already bought the ice cream—organic, Tahitian, fair-trade vanilla. Tropical and lush. Ultra-processed Dutch cocoa powder, take a sniff.” She opened the canister and held it in front of him.
The chocolaty scent made his mouth water, as well as being up close and friendly with Kerry, who wore a pretty blush on her tanned cheeks. Her eyes sparkled baby blue as she winked and ran her tongue over her lips. “I love chocolate, especially the tall, dark, and handsome variety.”
“Yeah, this is good stuff.” He’d rather have the vanilla, the sweet, creamy, and curvy type. “What else?”
“Farm fresh eggs, butter from a local dairy, freshly churned, and organic sugar. The recipe’s really easy.” She flipped the recipe card onto the counter and opened a cabinet. “Can you get the mixing bowls up top while I set up the mixer?”
“Here you go.” Finn arranged the bowls on the countertop. “When I was little, I always helped my mom bake, but all I did was lick.”
“Lick? I didn’t know she needed a licker.”
“Yeah, every baker needs a licker.” He swiped his tongue across his lips, delighted when her eyes widened with unmistakable desire. So, she missed him in more ways than friendly banter.
Wagging her hip, Kerry handed him a flour sifter. “Let’s put those hand muscles to work sifting the flour, cocoa, and salt together.”
“You’ll find my hands very talented.” He flexed his middle finger in a hooky motion before picking up the recipe card, pretending he hadn’t noticed her chest heave.
While Kerry set up the mixer, he measured the amounts of dry ingredients into the basket of the sifter. It was the old-fashioned kind with the turning crank, and when Kerry was busy creaming the butter and sugar with the mixer, he sifted the remaining dust into her blond hair.
It might give him an excuse to shampoo it, preferably in the giant two-person jetted spa in the master bathroom.
“I saw that.” Kerry flicked her hair and puffed flour onto his black T-shirt. “Oops. Let me get that.”
She patted his shirt all over his chest, dusting it with more flour. “Why don’t you preheat the oven and grease the baking pan?”
He was bending at the waist to futz with the oven dials when Kerry pulled the waistband of his sweatpants and briefs and dropped a cold egg down his butt crack. He reached for it, but she shoved a chair behind his knees, buckling them.
“Sit. It’s easier.” She pressed him down, toppling him onto the chair. Oy! The egg smashed inside his pants, all cold and icky.
“I’m going to get you for this.” He squirmed off the chair and dropped his pants, flashing his ass at her. “You make a mess, you clean.”
“Ewwee,” she squealed. “That looks disgusting.”
“No more disgusting than this.” He dabbed his finger in the butter and sugar mixture and stuck it in her belly button. “I’ll lick that if you wipe me clean as a baby’s bottom.”
“Is that a promise you’ll actually deliver on?” she said with her hands on her hips.
He grabbed a dishtowel and handed it to her. “Only if you go first.”
“Sure, just a sec. I still need you to grease the pans.” She turned to the freezer. “I have to cool the whipping whisk and bowl.”
“Sounds kinky.” He pointed his butt at her while spraying the baking pan with an oily spray.
Holy hell! He shouldn’t have turned his back. Kerry was holding an ice cube in the dishtowel as she wiped his ass. Ow, ow, ow!
She pushed the ice down, hitting his balls, as she slowly dragged the wet and slopping dishrag between his butt cheeks. “I’ve often wondered what babies would say if they could talk. No one warms up wet wipes. There, there, cleaned you up.”
Finn’s breath sizzled between his teeth as he grabbed a paper towel and dabbed himself dry. “That was cold. Real cold. Where’s the whipping cream?”
“Not until we put the brownie batter in the oven.” Kerry poured the dry ingredients into the wet and mixed it. “Could you get me a spatula? It should be in one of those drawers near the oven.”
“Oh, no, I’m not turning my back on you, Miss Mills.”
She raised her eyebrows and lowered her gaze to his crotch. “My, my, what a big stick you have. Let’s
use that for the spatula, and I get to lick.”
“I give up. Do whatever you want with me.” Finn held his hands in front of his engorged dick.
“Oh, you have no idea.” Kerry calmly extracted the spatula from the drawer. She spread the brownie mixture into the greased baking pan and popped it into the oven.
“Come over here, soldier.” She took his hand and tugged. “You lick the bowl, and I’ll lick the spatula.”
Before Finn could respond, she slathered the remaining mix from the spatula onto his cock and dropped to her knees.
Chapter Fourteen
“You’re such a tease,” Finn said. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Kerry dragged her tongue slowly across the spatula, eye-level to Finn’s bobbing, batter-smeared cock. She was used to nudity, both male and female. Surfers lathered baby oil and sunscreen on each other and helped pull on and off wetsuits all the time. She’d bet he was used to it too, being in the Army and out in the field.
“I said I was licking the spatula.” She rolled innocent eyes at him. “What did you think?”
He leaned down and lifted the bottom of her tank top. “Arms up.”
She complied. After all, what was fair for her was fair game for him. Besides, she had no illusions where this would lead. Now that she’d settled on her destiny and had emailed several charity tour organizers, she’d take as much of Finn as she could handle, and leave him with fond memories of another vacation fling he’d never have to contact or worry about again.
Finn gently removed her tank top and then unclasped her bra. Methodically, he stuck two fingers into the remnants of batter and dragged it over and around her nipples, turning them from pink to dark brown.
Kerry’s breathing quickened, but she couldn’t let Finn see how excited he made her. After all, he was only setting it up so he could lick the mixing bowl, not her breasts, no matter how tasty they were.
She stuck the spatula into her mouth to keep from moaning at the way he carefully painted the batter to cover her already pebbled nipples.
His eyes never leaving hers, he set the bowl aside and sat down on the floor. He pulled her from her knees, and she spread her legs to straddle him. Her jeans suddenly seemed too tight and constraining as he rubbed her over his chocolate covered dick.
The Remingtons: Leap, Laugh, Love (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 7