Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2)

by L. A. Justice

  “Now you.”

  She shook her head.

  As he laughed she noticed a front tooth was chipped. “Just your sweater.”

  She shrugged out of it.

  “Feel better?” She nodded. “How about the T-shirt. You don’t need it.”

  “Someone might see us.”

  “A chipmunk maybe. It’s liberating. I won’t force you.”

  He stepped closer. She nodded. Swiftly, he pulled it over her head and dropped it on the ground as static electricity shot between them like jolts of lightning. Her white-blond hair stood on end like a halo. Rob whipped the cellphone from his pocket and snapped a few shots. “Classic.” He showed them to her. As she studied them, he walked around and unhooked her bra.

  “Not here.”

  “Yes, here. Be one with nature.”

  Embarrassed, she crossed her arms over her breasts.

  Kissing her mouth, he gently peeled them away. “They’re quite beautiful and I promise not to touch them unless you say okay.”

  Trees rustled as they stood motionless.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Good. Pretty wonderful actually.”

  “I thought you’d like it. Remember, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But I would like to hold you.”

  She nodded. He stepped closer until they were touching, surrounded by the sweet aroma of jonquils. They kissed again, deeper. The feeling of skin on skin was delectable. He slipped behind her, pressing his pelvis into her. She felt he was hard but he didn’t unzip his pants or ask her to touch him. He wrapped his large scarred hands around her heavy breasts as she stretched her arms up, encircling his neck. He nuzzled her as goose bumps rose on her arms. A low pulsating vibration seemed to emanate from his solar plexus. And then his hand was slipping down under the elastic waistband. Her first reaction was to pull away, but she didn’t as jays screamed overhead. Fire consumed her as every inhibition fell away. Moans escaped from her throat as she arched backward and he spun her around, his mouth on hers, tongue snaking in between her teeth. She returned his kisses until they pulled away and grinned.

  “Enchanted—yes or no?”

  She nodded.

  They lay down on the blanket still naked from the waist up, sun caressing their bare skin as she shivered. Sari couldn’t believe that she’d just had an orgasm, not only in a public place where other people were hiking, but in broad daylight. Although this was miles outside her comfort zone, it was exhilarating—the world of bad boys.

  “People will see us,” she said, running her hands lightly over the smattering of gray-and-black chest hair. Rob didn’t ask her to touch him, or suck him, or jerk him off. He didn’t try to pull her pants down or force himself on her. Footsteps crackled over dried leaves, breaking small twigs underfoot. A couple with walking sticks made their way toward them. Sari caught the woman’s eye and blushed. The man nodded to Rob as they veered in another direction.

  “Just to clarify” she said. “Did we just have forest sex?”

  “You’ve now a card-carrying wood nymph.”

  “I’m honored.”

  A woodpecker hammered out a sporadic rat-a-tat-tat. She sat up and reached for her bra.

  “Please, not yet,” he begged.

  She lay back again as clouds scudded above. “That looks like a cat chasing a mouse.”

  “And there’s a dog right behind them.”

  “That’s no dog,” she said, “It’s a lizard.”

  “Wrong. It’s a giant penis.” They both laughed.

  Rob said, “I had a dream about you a few nights ago.”

  “Was I naked?”

  “Actually, you wore an anorak. It was Bellingham in winter and I was trying to find you, I think it was you. Truthfully, I don’t have a clue what that dream was about, except that it seems odd that you and I both grew up there and now we’re here.”

  A plane flew overhead. “Where do you think its going?” she asked.

  “Chicago or maybe DC. Have you ever been there?”

  “When Alexa got married, Joe and I went to New York, but otherwise, not really. I’ve been very sheltered. And you?”

  “I told you about Terra del Fuego and the woodcarver. But we should go to Europe, see the Vatican, the Eiffel Tower, and the Coliseum.” He paused. “So you have a daughter who lives in Florida. Any others stashed away?”

  “No, that’s it.”

  “I have the twins with my ex-wife and fathered a couple more, but I’m not sure.”

  “Don’t you want to find them, introduce yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m sure they have fathers. Someone who provided shelter, played baseball, helped with homework. And then one day a random stranger walks in and says, ‘Hey, I’m your dad, just call me Pops.’ I don’t think so.”

  Sari sat up, hooked her bra, and put on her tee. “You promised a tour.”

  He led the way, both lost in their respective thoughts.

  CHAPTER 42

  THE OCEANVIEW apartment was strangely peaceful. Not only was Gretel gone, the tension that existed between Alexa and Hannah before her arrival had been replaced by a fresh new bond of togetherness.

  After dinner Hannah usually studied with Doc or Lakhi and Alexa buckled down to write, listening intently for muffled squeals of laughter, especially when Doc was in her daughter’s room. She wondered at what point it would be appropriate to break down the door and barge in. When was a kiss more than a kiss and how far did kids go these days? That was the real question.

  “So are you and Doc exclusive?” she asked one evening as they ate.

  “Tell me you’re not serious.”

  “Yep, just being a mom.”

  “I’m still a virgin if that’s what you want to know.”

  Hannah stopped eating. “Listen, Doc and I are tope—that’s tight and dope, if you didn’t know. But we’re a long way from having sex. And besides, we know all about the Code 9.”

  “Code 9?”

  “Parents nearby.”

  “You make me feel old.”

  “You are old. Go get laid Mom.”

  “You’re right.” She thought about all the hot hunky guys at Flanagan’s and the sweaty, sand-covered Brazilians playing volleyball at the beach. “I could get laid in a New York minute.”

  “I don’t want to go there.”

  “You brought it up.”

  “Nobody wants to picture their mom having sex, ugh.”

  “Then we’re even.”

  They ate for a few minutes in silence.

  “Get NIFOC and have 53x.”

  “Excuse me? What did you say?”

  “Honestly, it’s like talking to a child.” Hannah took Alexa’s hand and squeezed. “It means get naked in front of the camera. Skype Luke, have computer sex.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know.”

  Skype sex might add a nice modern twist to her novel. She’d need to try it first to know how it worked. The thought made her stomach roll. What if Luke turned off the computer in the middle of it? She’d be left with everything hanging out, literally.

  Hannah’s room was quiet as she walked outside and gazed over the balustrade. The pool was empty, glowing aquamarine, lounge chairs neatly stacked near the fence as she recalled the final episode with Gretel, and how that small misstep had been a blessing in disguise. A message pinged into her phone. The attached photo showed her mother smiling at the camera, her silky hair creating a static nimbus. She appeared to be in the woods, or at least surrounded by leafy trees, the crows feet around sky blue eyes were crinkled by her broad smile. Expanding the image, she recognized the thick, padded bra straps. Why was Sari standing in the woods in her underwear? Scrolling through other photos she saw a dark-haired, bare-chested man. Were they smoking weed or eating magic mushrooms? They certainly looked buzzed.

  Alexa didn’t want her mother to fall prey to the whimsical games ma
nipulative men often play. The world was filled with strange and unpredictable people that would take you for a ride and not think twice about driving you over a cliff. He could be a nut job, lunatic, psychopath, or a perverted weirdo. Maybe Hannah was right. She should take off her bra and Skype Luke. Sari had obviously done something like that. Like mother like daughter? God forbid.

  Before going back inside, she texted Sari: Who’s the guy in the photo? Where did you meet him? Am I getting a new dad?

  She meant it as a joke. Nobody could replace Joe, of course.

  Alexa pulled up the photo again and wondered how her uptight, depressed, runaway mother had ended up half naked in some Arizona woodland with a man who was obviously forbidden fruit. She enlarged the photo until it began to blur. Staring into his mesmerizing hazel eyes, the window to his soul, she felt a magnetic tug. He didn’t look like anybody’s Prince Charming. But, apparently, he was.

  Back inside, Alexa sat down at the computer and booted it up. She was already well behind her coworkers for the contest. Some of them had completed outlines and a few had a first draft. She had squat. But she did have tickets to the Miami Heat game. The date was fast approaching, but she hadn’t said a word to Luke or Hannah. The whole idea was dumber than dumb.

  As Hannah would say, it was “awks.”

  Awkward. Yes, very.

  Tumbling into bed and feeling guilty for writing only two pages, she recalled Bryan’s advice: “Know your characters, but don’t be one of them. Find your rhythm and write every day. Make the reader care.”

  So much for that: she knew squat about basketball, or being a man, or a twin. She had no rhythm, and her writing was sporadic at best. Her mind was spinning in so many directions it was impossible to concentrate. Heck, she didn’t even have a working title. But she did have a dream and the desire to be a published author. She had to make it work. Had to.

  #donotquit.

  CHAPTER 43

  THE VIEW from Cathedral Lookout had been as spectacular as Rob had promised. They took in the vista of towering red sandstone cliffs, trails snaking around the outcroppings and deep green valleys. Adobe mansions were tucked in the hillsides with floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded magnificent views. He stood behind her, arms encircling her waist.

  “I’d like to live in one of those someday,” he said.

  “I could stay here forever.”

  “Me too,” he agreed. “But I have things to do.”

  Reluctantly, they tore themselves away from the magical panorama and hiked down to the parking lot in half the time it took to reach the top. On the way home, she asked him over for dinner. He kissed her and accepted with a smile.

  “I’ll bring the wine.”

  Although Sari never wanted to wake up from this dream, she checked the refrigerator for ingredients and pulled a package of meat from the freezer. She changed the sheets, vacuumed, dusted, and showered. Dressed in a tank top and long floral skirt, she set the table and put out snacks feeling clear-headed and excitedly optimistic. Rob arrived at dusk freshly scrubbed with the faint aroma of citrus. He wore a tight white T-shirt, black jeans, and cowboy boots and offered her a bottle of Cabernet. She set a corkscrew and two wine glasses on the counter and fixed a salad while he poured. They touched glasses. She took a small sip.

  “Dinner’s in the oven.”

  With the salad made and feeling relaxed, they walked to the living room for snacks. They sat a few feet apart from each other allowing space for conversation. “I can’t get you out of my head,” he said reaching over and touching her foot.

  She felt the heat as it rested on her ankle. “Then I think you need a hobby.” He grinned and took a sip of wine. She pointed to the delicate hand-crafted ceramic bowls of pine nuts, cashews and cheese cubes. “Help yourself.”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute or two as the refrigerator kicked on and the air conditioner pushed air through the vents. When he spoke, his voice was sexy and low, barely audible. “Seriously, something’s going on here.” A bloom of crimson flooded her cheeks. “I want to be completely honest with you.”

  Setting her glass on the coffee table, she waited. Barely breathing, her body tensed for the punch line as anxiety encroached like an unwanted guest in her belly. “You’re frightening me,” she said.

  “Sorry. That’s not my intention.” He patted her hand and put the glass on the coffee table. “Pain and suffering is what makes people interesting, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Are you going to hurt me?” The thought popped out of her mouth.

  “No darlin’. I think we’ve had enough of that to last two lifetimes.” He leaned forward, picked up the glass again and took a gulp. “Sometimes you have to take your emotions and crush them into a ball. Nuke them into cinders. Get rid of them. Release the pain and end the suffering.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Trying to.”

  “But we all carry a certain amount of ache and craziness inside. It’s making peace with it that’s the problem.” She tugged down her skirt. “I’ve been going to see a healer. He says sometimes we let our internal ranting overwhelm our common sense. Addictions set in or we’re overcome with sadness we can’t shake out.”

  He said, “I carry enough craziness for an entire village.”

  She smiled sympathetically. “You’re fine.”

  “Not really. For decades I’ve been running from my past and trying to carve a new life—literally. But when I met you, I knew it was time to face my past, stare down the demons. Some of the questions you asked today hit me hard.” He lowered his head and shook it. “I’ve done some crazy shit, some truly appalling things. I need to own them. Make them right.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “When I got home, I made a few calls to people who weren’t thrilled to hear from me. A few hung up. I needed answers and I think I have some.”

  She felt uneasy. “Maybe we should we eat.”

  “Let me just say this.” He took a deep breath, placed his hand on hers as though to keep her from fleeing. In a voice resonant with emotion, he talked about the ghosts of his past, tales of shame, finally asking, “Could you love a man like me?”

  She slid closer, cupping his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his as he leaned forward, his hand sliding up her bare leg. He stood up languidly, reached down, and pulled her up into a warm embrace. He whispered in her ear, “They say in real life there are no edits, no rewrites. But I’m going to prove that theory wrong—if you’ll give me the chance.”

  She took his hand and silently led him to the bedroom where they slowly undressed one other, their hands and mouths exploring, leaving no inch of skin unexamined as she offered herself to him completely—without misgiving and with full trust. He entered her quickly and deeply, holding her later with an ardent embrace.

  The enchiladas were dry and a little burned. The salad was soggy, but they ate ravenously and polished off the Cabernet before indulging in dessert. Some whipped cream ended up on her nose and he licked it off. They cleaned up and returned to the bedroom to satisfy any unresolved lust before drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms, both glowing incandescent in the dark.

  CHAPTER 44

  DESPITE SPENDING a small fortune on Gretel’s medical bills, Alexa took Zelda and Hannah to lunch at IHOP. They sat in a booth as Zelda recounted a new list of missing items, including her bunny slippers, favorite purse, and the photo of her with Luke when he was a little boy. Alexa loved that picture and knew exactly where it sat on the bookshelf. She said, “Travis Slade might have borrowed it.”

  “Why?” asked Hannah.

  “To brag about me to his friends.”

  Alexa pulled out her phone. “Have you ever heard of an incubus?”

  “Is that some sexually transmitted disease? God, I hope he doesn’t give it to me.”

  She read: “An incubus is a demon in male form that, according to mythological and legendary traditions, lies upon sleeping women in or
der to engage in sexual activity with them. Could that be your nighttime visitor?”

  “Impossible! His eyes are intoxicating, not glowing red like some-thing out of Rosemary’s Baby.”

  “What’s Rosemary’s Baby?” asked Hannah.

  “Google it. When did you meet this mysterious young man?”

  “He drove me to Ruth’s house at Christmas time. But I hope you’re not getting on me about dating a younger guy.” Her voice was filled with the exuberance of a saleswoman giving a pitch. “He doesn’t mind my saggy breasts or hairy moles. He appreciates my wisdom and he makes me feel young again.”

  “If I was older and you were younger I’d fight you for him,” said Hannah. “He sounds hot.”

  “Good luck with that. “I keep nun chucks in my purse.” Zelda smiled. “But that purse is missing. Anyway, enough about me, what else is new?”

  Hannah said, “There’s a father-daughter dance at the middle school.”

  “That’s nice. Are you going?”

  “No, I’m not allowed to see my dad right now.” She glanced down to her lap.

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t like it.” Alexa took a sip of coffee and added another packet of sugar and more cream. “Why should Hannah be excluded because I’m divorced?”

  “Mom. It’s NBD.”

  “It is a very big deal.”

  “I’m sure Travis has loads of friends who’d escort this beautiful young lady to the ball.”

  “When unicorns fart glitter and penguins poop rainbows,” said Alexa.

  They were still embroiled in the discussion about the father-daughter dance when the pancakes, crepes, and sides of bacon arrived. All talk stopped as they ate and by the time the bill was paid everybody had forgotten—except Alexa. She simply didn’t want Hannah to miss out on the fun because her ex-husband Mike was such an asshole.

  Later, after dropping Hannah at the beach to join her friends and taking Zelda for a haircut, she walked into her quiet apartment, changed into shorts and baggy tee and caught up her unruly hair in an elastic band. In the bathroom, she scrubbed her face, and slathered on a green clay mask, trying not to dwell on what the credit card bill would total. No matter how she tried to keep track of what she spent, it was always double—and that wasn’t counting the interest which seemed to get higher every few months.