“If there is one thing this competition has taught me, it’s that you just don’t know what will taste good. You have to throw things together and try,” she said.
Try. He put the word behind him. “My mom could make anything delicious from what she pulled from the cupboard. Not me. I like to follow recipes.”
“I know, Mr. Get It Right the First Time.”
That was him, wasn’t it? But looking at her, he had the sense that letting go of needing it to be perfect might be okay.
“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t be in the final round without you, Grace, and your ability to take a chance.”
Take a chance. His own words were lethal tonight, and he looked away at the darkening shoreline of Honolulu, the buildings quickly turning into spires of light jutting into the velvety sky.
He felt Grace’s gaze on him. “I wouldn’t have entered the contest if it weren’t for you, Max. You . . .” She swallowed. “You made me feel like a winner before we even entered. I don’t care if we win tomorrow. I’m just happy right now. Happy I met you.”
His throat thickened, his chest tight. “What if . . . what if . . . ?” What was he doing? But the words swirled out of him, already beyond his control. “Have you ever seen a Blue Ox game?” Oh, idiot. Of course she had—her brother had played for the Blue Ox. Before Max destroyed his career, before Max took his place.
He should just throw himself overboard right now. Because he saw where this would end, yet he seemed unable to stop himself from barreling toward the catastrophic finale.
“Not live,” she said. “Amelia and Casper went last season, but Eden was always the one with the tickets, so . . .”
“Uh . . . well . . . maybe you could come to one of my games.” Oh, boy, he sounded like a seventh grader asking a girl to the middle school dance.
“I’d like that. But only if you win. Because I’m not driving all the way down from Deep Haven only to sit there and watch you get creamed. That would be horrible. You’d be all grumpy pants and I’d have to make you soup to cheer you up. And fresh pineapple isn’t easy to get in Minneapolis in January.”
Her words tugged out a grin, and he glanced at her. She met his eyes with a smile. Oh, he loved the way she could take any situation and make it . . .
Perfect.
Everything dropped away. All the hesitations, all the reasons swirling in his head why he shouldn’t take her in his arms. Instead, he saw her sitting across from him in the convertible, feet up, with that silly blue toenail polish. He saw her eating shrimp, her chin smeared with butter, and chasing after a turtle, her eyes wide with fear as the ocean reached out to gulp her.
He heard her laughter as she parasailed with him and her determined voice as she fought to learn to surf. And he saw her in chef’s attire, that blonde hair trickling out the back of her hat as she bossed him around in the kitchen, bringing in the win.
He couldn’t stop himself. He cupped her face, ran his thumb down her cheekbone. “Grace . . . I . . .”
Her smile had dimmed, leaving behind so much raw emotion in her eyes, it tugged him right in. He let his gaze drift to her lips, then surrendered a small groan and kissed her.
He didn’t stop to linger, didn’t explore or nudge, just dove in, full-on, tired of holding back, of needing her. He kissed her like he’d dreamed about for a week or longer, with a sort of desperation he could no longer keep locked away.
She tasted of sunshine and sea salt, and he looped his arm around her waist, pulled her against him, his other hand curling behind her neck.
As usual, she fit perfectly into his embrace.
Best part of all, she kissed him back. Surrendering, giving, meeting him with hunger in her own touch.
Finally. Grace.
Oh, Grace.
He could probably devour her whole, but the sound of his own heartbeat thundering against his chest made him break away.
A smile slid up her face. “Took you long enough.”
He wanted to sing. “Sheesh, 9B. If I knew you could kiss like that, I would have flirted with you more on the plane.”
“You did enough flirting, Maximoto. Let’s not talk about the plane.” She leaned in and kissed him again, running her hand against his cheek, her touch so sweet, so right, he could die right now a happy man.
The stars had long since started to fall from the sky when Max returned Grace to her room. Lio had dropped them off at the dock, and Max cajoled her, without too much effort, to walk along the beach, finally pulling her into his arms in the soft, cool sand.
They just sat together, wrapped in an embrace, watching the stars, listening to the ocean cheer. He would have suggested they stay until sunrise, but they had a competition to win.
Although, like she said, he already felt like a winner.
A winner in denial, maybe, but even his future felt . . . Well, she had said that for the right man, she’d surrender her heart, even if she couldn’t have a lifetime. He couldn’t bear the idea that she might be telling the truth.
She simply didn’t know how Huntington’s disease destroyed lives. And not just the victims’.
But he didn’t have to think about that now.
He opened his hotel door to the sound of his cell phone chirruping where he’d left it charging on the nightstand. He crossed the room and picked it up.
Brendon? At this time of night? He answered it, worry sluicing through him. “What’s the matter? Is it Ava?”
“Huh? No, everyone’s fine.”
“Why are you calling me so late?”
“Oh, shoot, right. What time is it there?”
“After midnight.”
“Sorry, dude. I’m heading out for a jog and got the time mixed up. I was thinking you were ahead of us, not behind us.”
Max dropped his key on the nightstand and began to unbutton his shirt. “So what’s so urgent?”
“It’s you, Max! You’re all over the Internet with this cooking thing.”
Max stilled, sank down on the bed. “What?”
“Yeah, I saw you last night on the ESPN around-the-world segment. What’s this about a cooking contest in Hawaii?”
He pulled off his shirt, tossed it onto a chair. “It’s just a local thing.”
“Not anymore. Not when Maxwell Sharpe is involved. It made WGN news in Chicago.”
“How did they find out?”
“Seriously?”
Right. If his face was well-known enough to garner celebrity endorsement requests, then probably people would notice him on a local cable show. He hadn’t really thought about that.
“So, yeah, I’m in this competition. It’s no big deal.”
“You’re in the finale! You and Owen Christiansen’s sister? That’s sort of a big deal.”
“It’s not—I don’t think we’re going to win.”
“Huh? Of course you are. Have you not seen the Facebook page for the contest? You’re the favorites. And that Grace Christiansen, she’s a cutie.”
“Yeah. Are you calling to wish me luck?”
“No. I mean, of course. But if you win, don’t you see? This is our perfect opportunity to raise awareness—”
“Oh no.”
“Stop being so selfish. And narrow-minded. Has it occurred to you that God made you great at hockey so you could do something with it? Something beyond your Hall of Fame aspirations?”
“Brendon, let me figure out what God wants for my life on my own.”
“The world is going to find out someday, Max. Let them see what true courage is.”
He swallowed. “Okay, fine. If I win, I’ll let you write up something about it.” He winced at his words, but the chances of them really emerging the victors . . .
“You’ve got this competition in the bag, Max. The whole family is rooting for you. Thanks, Bro. You’re the champ.”
He smiled at that. “Thanks, Brendon.” Max hung up, resting the phone on the bed.
And again dreaded his tomorrow.
If Casper hadn’t g
one into the drink before and learned how to manage his crew, he certainly would have driven them into a pylon with Darek on board. “Look, dude, if you don’t want me helming this, just say so.”
Darek raised his hands, letting his paddle rest on his lap. “No. You have a strategy. Just because it happens to be different from mine . . .”
Every eye in the boat looked at Casper, sizing him up against Darek. Even his parents—his dad sitting in the middle of the boat, his mother in the front.
Nice.
The seagulls onshore rose and began to call, as if adding to the mocking, the jeers. Not that anyone had said anything when Darek showed up for practice today, but they didn’t have to.
One look at Darek and his build, with years of knowledge under his belt, and the choice was clear. If they wanted to win, Darek should captain the boat.
But no one said it, and Casper’s pride wouldn’t let the suggestion leak out. He tamped it down and ignored the voices in his head.
This was his boat to captain.
A slight wind bullied the dragon boat and he reached down to grab the dock, lest it slip away from him and out into the harbor.
A rudderless ship. Darek would have a field day with that.
“I trust you, Bro,” Darek said, but his smile resembled shark teeth.
Casper couldn’t help it—he cast a look at Raina. He needed, for a moment, the confidence she gave him, the belief. Call him a sap, but when she looked at him like that, he became a champion.
She smiled, something soft, kind, and it cut through the clatter inside.
“Let’s take her out for one last paddle.” The team had already gone through their strategy twice, and now he got in the back, letting Kyle and Jensen push them away from the dock.
In the front, Emma kept time, slowly beating the drum as they paddled out to the imaginary starting line.
Eight rows in front of him, Raina, with her long hair in a braid down her back, paddled in beat. He wanted to run his hand down that thick braid, pull her into his arms, see her smile—
“Casper! Are you planning on hitting that sailboat?” Darek turned in his seat, two places in front of him, his expression a growl.
Casper steered them away from the skiff. “Let’s sing a paddling song,” he said to Emma.
She started them in a chant. “Hey, Captain, can you hear it? Listen to our dragon spirit!”
He smiled, hearing Raina’s voice rise above the shouts.
He wasn’t sure how she’d gotten so far into his heart so fast, but he wasn’t arguing.
Still, he had to focus on this race if he wanted to win. As they maneuvered toward the starting line, he raised his voice with the rest of his team. “Gonna set a record pace. Gonna paddle to first place!”
He turned the boat so they were heading back to the docks. Emma slowed the drum until they were floating. “Bring us to a stop,” Casper said, and a few paddlers slowed them in the water.
“Okay, give me twenty-five hard strokes, as fast as you can; then Emma will set the pace. Ready?”
Paddles came up.
In the race, they’d take off to a gun, but he started the stopwatch around his neck and simply shouted, his voice carrying across the water. “Go!”
The boat lurched forward, nearly knocking him backward. They counted off together. “One, two, three—”
He could admit that having Darek back on board made for extra power. They motored through the water, a slick, fierce dragon skimming the surface as they dug in. “Twenty-five!”
They’d started to settle into their standard pace, still as one, a motorized team of paddlers with beautiful form, strong strokes. The water peeled back from the keel, cool and dark, and he angled them toward the finish line.
Onshore, he caught sight of Seb Brewster, the captain of the town team. You’re going down, Mr. Mayor.
They surged over the halfway point. “Keep it strong, team!” He glanced at the watch—they’d shaved sixteen seconds off their previous time.
In front, he saw Annalise Decker start to slow. “Annalise—take your paddle out of the water if you can’t keep up!”
She put it on her lap, and the aft side kept rhythm. He glanced at the clock. Still under their best time.
In the middle of the boat, he heard Nathan, his father, and even his brother groaning.
“Push it!”
They sailed across the imaginary finish line—drawn from the end of the long pier and the corner of the trading post onshore—and he clocked their time. “Fourteen seconds faster than our best time!”
The crew leaned over their paddles, breathing hard, drifting now toward the dock.
“Probably too soon to suggest we go again?”
Kyle Hueston looked back like he might arrest him and Casper grinned. “Just kidding. Great job today. I think we’re ready for competition.”
They floated to the dock and the crew disembarked. He gathered up the paddles, the life jackets. Then he, Darek, Kyle, and Jensen hoisted the boat from the water, together carrying it to the trailer.
“I’ll park it in the shed,” Darek said, and Casper wondered if he just wanted to spend time with his beloved boat.
Casper cast a look at Raina, who was drinking from one of the water bottles Ingrid had passed out. She wore nylon athletic pants and a green sports tunic today, along with her Keens.
He left Darek alone and sidled up to her. “Can I interest you in dinner?”
She looked at him, nodded.
Something had changed for her since he’d caught her talking to his father. She’d seemed to relax. Laugh more easily. Last night she’d even played a game of speed Scrabble with him and his parents. Like it was just another normal Wednesday night at the homestead, one she so easily fit into.
She climbed into the passenger side of his truck. “Do you mind if I run home and change clothes? I’m a little sweaty.”
“No problem. I’ll drop you off, go home and shower, and pick you back up.”
“Where are we going?”
He lifted a shoulder.
“I have an idea,” she said, her eyes twinkling. As they neared her aunt’s house, she turned to him. “And bring the motorcycle.”
The motorcycle? Uh—
But she got out before he had a chance to follow up, and shoot, if he couldn’t see them riding off into the sunset.
His parents had beaten him home, so when he arrived, he found his father in the family room, surfing the Internet for car repair manuals.
“Still can’t get the Chevy running?”
“I’ll figure it out,” John said. He turned and stopped Casper with a hand to his arm.
Casper stilled. “I know I can’t fix her, Dad.”
His dad lowered his hand. “Good. But that’s not what I need to talk to you about.” He took a breath. “I don’t know how to ask you this, but . . . is everything . . . okay with her? And you? I mean, I see you getting closer. You’ve been a gentleman, right?”
Casper stared at him, not sure—“We haven’t even kissed.” It felt weird saying that to his father, but having someone keep his emotions, his desires in check might help. “But yeah, of course. Why?”
John shook his head. “It’s what she said about all us Christiansen men . . .”
“Arrogant. I assumed she was referring to Darek.”
His dad’s mouth tightened to a grim line.
Casper clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, Dad, I’ll be a gentleman.”
But his dad’s expression, his words, dogged him into his room, the shower, out again.
Go away, Owen!
The memory of her voice that day on the road reverberated back to him as he pulled on a T-shirt. He shook his head at the memory. Maybe his ornery kid brother had cut her off on the road or even snuck into the kitchen at the wedding and stolen food.
Or, as he first guessed, hit on her. Which only churned up a strange heat in his chest.
Especially at her word used at the campfire. Arro
gant?
What did that mean?
He put it out of his mind, picked up an extra helmet, and headed to town.
Raina sat waiting on the front steps, a backpack over her shoulder, wearing capri-style jeans, a white shirt, and a jean jacket.
She took the helmet, slipped it on, and climbed onto his bike as if it were as natural as a sunrise.
Women confused him.
Then she slipped her arms around his waist and leaned in.
They confused him a lot.
“Where to?” Casper said.
“Paradise Beach.”
She knew about Paradise Beach? He gunned it out of town, heading up the shoreline, the sun lazy as it sank behind them, casting long, shaggy fingers of shadow across the road. The lake had calmed, turned to a whisper on the shore.
He stopped at one of the many inlets to the lake along a stretch of pebbled beach named for its agates and view.
Raina got off, using his shoulders to steady herself, then led him out to the shore. Sitting, she pulled two turkey wraps, a couple bags of chips, and bottles of soda from her backpack. She opened a Tupperware container filled with cookies.
“You just whipped this up?”
“I made the cookies yesterday. But yeah.”
He reached for a wrap. “Impressive.”
She grinned at him, peeled the plastic off the other wrap. “We’re going to win, you know.”
“The other teams are really good.”
“But we’re awesome! And with you as our captain, we are so going to win.”
“Well, I’m no Darek, but we’re getting faster.”
“Casper! You’re an amazing captain, a thousand times better than Darek.”
He took a bite of his wrap. “You didn’t paddle under him. He has three championships under his belt, is legendary around here.”
“You’re next.”
When I Fall in Love Page 19