Wrecked (Sons of San Clemente Book 2)

by Sinclair Jayne

  He pressed his forehead against hers and cradled her face in his palms.

  “Stay,” he whispered urgently. “Stay this time. With me. Home where you belong.”

  “I don’t even know where I belong anymore,” she whispered, eyes welling.

  “You belong with me.” No doubt colored his voice, and Hollis envied him that. “Stay.”

  “I want to, but...”

  He kissed her, his lips parting hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. She caught her breath. One tear escaped, and then another. He caught them with the tip of his tongue.

  “No but,” he said. “Just stay. I’ll beg if you want,” he whispered, “Like I should have last time. Stay, Hollis, for me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A circle of candles flickered on the picnic table. Hollis stared into the flames. The sound of the ocean was soothing, like it used to be. The roar didn’t make her on edge tonight, like it was a monster creeping closer. The moon was now nearly directly overhead. Late, but neither of them seemed inclined to make a move to go inside to bed. Hollis cuddled closer to Kadan on the hammock, her hand splayed over his chest. Maybe it was the steady beat of his heart under her palm that made her so relaxed.

  She knew her problems loomed, and she had more questions about her future, his future, and his health than answers, but somehow tonight, her body wrapped around his, his skin warming hers, the wild animals in her head that had made it so hard to concentrate, so difficult to keep the anxiety at bay, were still.

  “Are you sleeping?” she whispered.

  “No.”

  “Thinking?”

  “No.” She heard the laugh in his voice.

  “Me neither,” she said.

  He tangled his fingers in her hair. “That would be a first.” He ran his fingers through the waves. “I love your hair.” He mused. “The color of it. The way it feels through my fingers. I love that it’s natural.”

  “Probably the only woman in So Cal who can say that.” She mused, tracing her finger around his nipple.

  “Over twelve anyway,” he said, turning slightly so she rolled more fully against him.

  Her breath caught as she felt his hard length press against her thigh. She spread her legs wider so she could cradle him against her core. She felt his heartbeat kick up against her palm. It amazed her that she could cause this reaction in him. His physical reaction to her never failed to thrill her. She felt like nothing special, but he was epic. Strong. Determined. Fearless and kind. A force of nature. Beautiful. He dictated his own reality. Kadan seized every moment. Every day. Didn’t live burdened by regrets or fears. He also gave back, mentoring so many younger surfers, not just on surfing but on life.

  And she was selfish, wanting to keep him all to herself.

  Because she was afraid to share him, afraid to lose him.

  Afraid he’d find someone more beautiful.

  Sexier.

  More suitably athletic or...

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” He leaned on one elbow and traced her lips with his finger.

  “How do you know it was bad?”

  “I don’t think scowling means good.” His lips urged hers apart. “And you’ve gone all stiff, and I like you pliant and ready for me.”

  She deepened the kiss without even thinking about it. Again her hands slid under his shirt, fingers finding each curve of each muscle.

  “All good thoughts,” she whispered against his mouth as she arched more fully into him, her other hand dipped inside his shorts so her fingers could wrap around him. “And I’m definitely ready for you.”

  “Yes,” he hissed and his hands went to the waistband of her shorts.

  “Hey everyone. I was right.” A familiar voice floated out of the dark.

  Hollis started and tried to roll away from Kadan so she could jump out of the hammock, but he cupped her lower back and pressed her hard against him.

  “Kadan is staying at the Remington beach cottage.”

  “Everyone?” Hollis repeated against his mouth.

  Kadan swore softly and fluently against her lips, and then he kissed her. Despite her embarrassment and disappointment, she found herself lost in the sensual beauty of his skilled mouth. She could kiss him all day. All night. She suddenly remembered their first date, real date, more than ten years ago. How they had hiked in Ortega Canyon with a picnic and he had spent hours just kissing her, stroking her. She felt nearly dizzy with the memory. And now he was doing it again, making it impossible to focus on anything but the sensation his lips could effortlessly produce.

  “Hey, Kadan.”

  “Kadan. Where you been, man?”

  “You been hidin’ out.”

  The small chorus of hellos made Kadan finally break the kiss.

  “Really?” He looked over Hollis’ shoulder. “It’s not completely obvious I’m busy?”

  A few whistles and catcalls followed his remark.

  Hollis pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She reached between their bodies to adjust his shorts and re-button her white, denim cutoffs. She hadn’t realized he’d even started taking off her clothes, she’d been so caught up in their kiss.

  “No worries,” Zen said, grinning. “Nothing we haven’t all seen before. Good to see you, Hollis. Carry on.”

  She hadn’t seen Zen since she left San Clemente six years ago. He and Health had been inseparable. And when Holland had died, Zen had dragged her out of her darkness and back into life, including her in everything he did as if she and Health had morphed into one person, and in a way, Hollis supposed she had tried.

  She started to sit up, but Kadan held her tightly.

  “When you didn’t show up at Preachers we all started talking about you and where you’ve been and why you haven’t been around,” Luke said. “I told everyone we’d seen you with a redhead and Zen thought maybe Hollis was back for a visit.”

  That warmed her that red immediately reminded Zen of her.

  “Hi, Luke.”

  “Good bye, Luke,” Kadan muttered. “Cole. Zen.”

  “You were missing the party so we brought the party to you,” Cole said. “It’s been too long. I texted Lane. He’s coming, too.”

  He cracked open a beer and handed it to Kadan. He cracked another one and held it out to Hollis.

  “No thanks,” she said.

  He barely missed a beat, clinking his bottle with Kadan’s and then tipped it into his own mouth.

  Hollis could see a few more people walking down the steep drive.

  “It’s turning into a party,” she said, noting that the three men stood on the deck around them and at least five more people were on their way.

  “You good, Hollis?” Zen asked.

  She nodded, thinking she should get up and get some appetizers together. She was relieved that she and Kadan had gone shopping today, regular shopping and again to a farmer’s market.

  “So, you back for good this time?” Zen asked as if it were the most natural question in the world. He looked at Kadan as he asked.

  “Yes.” Kadan answered for her. “So back the fuck off.”

  Hollis thought Zen would laugh. Kadan was joking, right? Zen didn’t. Instead he looked at her for a long time. Then he jerked his head in a nod and took a deep swallow of beer.

  “Is that man code for something?” she demanded.

  “You good, I’m good,” Zen said. “Welcome back, Hollis.”

  He wandered off only to be replaced by a golden blonde god in ripped jeans riding low on his hips and nothing else.

  “Lose your shirt, Jake?” Kadan asked sitting up, and pulling Hollis with him.

  “Somewhere. Paz was taking photos of me down by the pier for something she’s working on. Hear her sister Luz is going to be back in town.”

  Kadan tensed and Hollis trailed her fingers down his back to soothe him. She remembered Paz from high school. She’d been Holland’s girlfriend, but he’d been pretty hush about it. She didn’t remember Luz.
She wondered if Kadan and Luz had had a thing going on recently.

  “Paz tell you that?”

  “She’s trying to get her to come. I think the shit’s hit the fan both in San Fran as well as New York for Luz.”

  “That sucks. I heard she’s divorced, but not that she might be back. Lane’s not gonna like that.”

  “Water under the bridge,” Jake shrugged. “Jake,” he introduced himself to Hollis.

  “Hollis,” she said.

  “The Hollis?” His brows rose. “Cool. We brought beer and chips,” Jake said happily, sprawling in one of the Adirondack chairs and opening a large, brown bag of local tortilla chips that one of the restaurants on El Camino Real sold out in front for customers who were waiting in their famously long line.

  “You better have brought salsa,” Kadan said.

  “Shayla brought salsa. She said it’s your favorite,” Jake said obliviously, tipping the bottle back and swallowing half the contents. “You remember Shayla. She’s the one—”

  “I’ll make some guac,” Hollis stood up before she had to hear about one of Shayla’s many sexual talents.

  No doubt she’d get an eyeful of her assets momentarily.

  “You don’t need to.” Kadan caught her fingers.

  She nearly pulled away, but then she looked into his dark blue eyes, saw the worry and regret and remembered that she wanted to be different. More confident in herself. She just needed to take the first step and then another. On her own. Not relying on him.

  “It’s all good,” she said and brushed his knuckles against her mouth before kissing them.

  “Love guac,” Jake said.

  “Any woman making guac is a keeper,” Luke said. “I like her.” He announced to Kadan.

  “So what’d you do this time?” Lane Duke, a game designer, who’d moved permanently to San Clemente last month, after coming down and crashing with Kadan a few times a year to surf for the past ten years, perched on one of the deck’s planters and stretched his six-four frame out.

  “Little of this and that.” Kadan brushed off the question.

  He liked Lane. He was smart and laid back and never pulled any shit in or out of the ocean. Never jumped waves. Never broke code and didn’t post unflattering shots online, even when he easily could have.

  “Looks like a lotta that,” Lane said. “You could have probably gotten as much sympathy without wiping flat out on North Beach on a first heat. You’ve dodged those rocks thousands of times. Surfed like a newb, dude.”

  “Needed some down time,” Kadan said easily, watching Hollis smash avocados through the window. “And I needed a good story as an excuse.”

  “Everyone embellishes the crap out of a wipeout anyway so you could have been less of a drama queen and saved yourself some pain.”

  “Didn’t think of that.”

  “At least you got some sympathy.” Lane shrugged, not looking at Kadan, but out at the ocean.

  His white blonde hair curled like a halo to his shoulders. The night breeze teased his hair, and Kadan thought, like he did every time he saw Lane, that nature was a bitch. Lane’s crazy, gorgeous hair belonged on a woman who would work it. Not a quiet, thoughtful brainiac, who only had a riot of curls because he was too distracted creating killer surfer based video games and simulations that he couldn’t remember to cut his hair, or, it seemed, to comb it. And dating? He’d never heard Lane mention a woman after Luz and she’d left him forever ago.

  Kadan’s eyes followed Hollis as she brought out several bowls of guac and a second pitcher of margaritas.

  “She back home to stay?”

  Kadan wanted to have no doubts, more than he wanted total use of his foot and ankle again, and didn’t that just sum up how he’d screwed up his priorities and his life?

  Yes, he wanted to shout it out.

  “Maybe.”

  “You were always crazy about her.”

  “Douse the romantic music. I haven’t proposed,” Kadan said, not looking at Lane either.

  “You should have done that before you started falling apart.”

  “Always did have bad timing.”

  “She was the only woman I’ve ever seen you come unglued over.”

  “Me?” Kadan turned in surprise. “Unglued?”

  “Twice.” Lane shook his head, a smile played around his lips, but his eyes remained fixed on the ocean. “You got in two bar fights over that chick that required cops.”

  “I never—” Kadan broke off.

  But he had. More than twice. But that had been a long time ago, and the asshole had done more than cop a feel as Hollis had floated into the beach bar in Huntington Beach one night to meet him after he’d had several really good heats.

  “You always had your eye on her. That’s how I knew she wasn’t like the others. You threw a guy through a window one time because you didn’t like the way he was staring at her when she was playing pool.”

  Jesus. He hadn’t even been drinking when he’d done that. And he barely remembered doing it. He didn’t think of himself that way. He was always chill.

  “The window was open.” Kadan tried to be nonchalant about it.

  “And then you went all intense about her provocative behavior. I’m surprised she didn’t deck you, red hair and all. Posting it up or out, I think you called it. And then there were all the times you’d march out of a conversation or chat with sponsors to scare the crap out of some guy who was trying to talk to Hollis because you didn’t like the way he was looking at her or he was too hands on in his approach.”

  Kadan frowned. “Why the hell are you bringing this up?” he demanded.

  Hollis was the one who’d always been pissed about the way he behaved when they were out. Not him. He remembered her as always standing next to him for about five minutes before she’d drift away to play darts or pool or sit outside on the patio to sulk by herself or end up chatting with a whole different group of people, who had not been him.

  “Only time I’ve seen you lose your cool with a woman is with her so I figure you should just propose now that you’re going to be old and grumpy and gimpy. Lame is not sexy.” Lane tipped the rest of the bottle down his throat, “Nor is it fast, so your chasing days are over. Might as well settle down.”

  Kadan flipped him off. Lane laughed.

  “Love sucks,” Lane said.

  You’d know. Kadan remembered more than one of Lane’s drunken rants about Luz’s betrayal, but like usual, Kadan kept his mouth shut.

  Kadan watched Hollis walk towards him with a pitcher of margaritas. God, she had a great walk. Like a model, a stroll that rolled so gracefully through her hips while her upper body was so straight and still it was like she was floating, gliding through the air like her body was less dense than an average human’s.

  “You boys having a nice chat?” she asked, pouring out two small glasses of the mixed drink and handing one to each of them.

  “We were talking about the L word,” Lane said, waiting until Kadan took a drink.

  Kadan choked and barely managed not to spew his drink.

  “Lesbians?” Hollis asked. “Lesbians at the beach has a nice ring to it.” Hollis cocked her head, considering. “Or on the beach? That should be a cocktail, or is that a new computer game you’re considering?”

  “I am now.” Lane stared at her. “You in?”

  “In?”

  “Shut up and back away,” Kadan told him.

  Lane grinned. Took the margarita from her. He held it up to toast her.

  “Told you,” he said. “L word.”

  “Stop acting like a waitress and just leave them to get their own damn drinks. Sit here.” Kadan held out his hand.

  “I’ll take the pitcher around, but think about it,” Lane said.

  “Think about what?” Kadan and Hollis asked simultaneously.

  Lane winked and shook his head.

  “You”—he jerked his head at Kadan—“heard me. And you.” He stared meaningfully at Hollis. “Miss Finally-
Home-For-Good-Where-You-Belong, I hope you are thinking about art work. I always need creative collaborators and storyboarders.”

  Hollis stared at him. “I’m not an artist.”

  “Spoken like an artist.”

  “But I’m not,” she said sounding bewildered.

  “Yeah, I know. Kadan has a Goddamn gallery in his home of your sketches.” He put air quotes around the word and rolled his eyes. “Framed and all, so I know all about how you aren’t an artist, but even as a non-artist, you have a style that screams across the room and a fierce flare for defining character with just a few strokes.”

  “How much have you been drinking?” she demanded. “You’d better hand over your keys right now.”

  “Show a little confidence,” Lane said. “Come see me when you’re bored of playing nurse. That is, if he’ll let you out of his sight.”

  Hollis stared at Lane a long time, the pitcher of margaritas forgotten in her hand. He jumped up and rescued it as she started to tilt it.

  “You’ve really seen some of my comics?” she asked. “I haven’t done anything since high school.”

  Lane shook his head. “The whole world sees your designs every time Wave Shredder wipes out, which is often, in case you no longer follow the circuit. Fans see the bottom of his board shoot up above the waves way more than they see his killer eight pack, which is getting soft by the way. Cheers.”

  “Dick.” Kadan grunted.

  Hollis laughed and settled down next to him. “Did you really keep some of my drawings?”

  “Maybe a few,”

  “And framed them?”

  “Might have done.”

  He ran his hand over his stomach. “Am I getting soft?”

  “Hardly.” Hollis stroked his through his shirt.

  He felt his cock come instantly to life. He loved her mouth. Every time he looked at the pillow of her lips he wanted to thrust a body part inside her over and over again. God, he was obsessed with her body, but it was more than that. He just wanted to get close. Closer. Crawl into her skin and hold her tight forever.

  “Kadan.” She breathed. “I don’t know what to even say right now.”

  He handed her his glass and she took a sip before handing it back.