Riptide (Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances Book 2)

by Michelle Mankin

  I inhaled sharply as he slipped them beneath the hem of my shirt and touched my skin. He brought my body closer, his fingers splaying possessively low on my back. The pads of his large palms kissed my hips. Tingles of pleasure shimmered along the surface of my skin. The heat from his body and the brush of his hips as they rocked into mine sent ripples of warm pleasure rolling through me. “You dance like you play the guitar,” I managed to breathe.

  “How’s that?”

  “Like you’re making love,” I replied without thinking, reason abandoned as I succumbed to the dream.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Oh, yeah, I thought, but I wasn’t so far gone that I spoke it aloud. “How well do you know Tasha?” My attempt at redirection came out raspy. My mouth had gone dry and my body surrendered to the seductive circles his thumbs traced on my skin. I wanted to purr with pleasure when one of his circles passed inside the waistband of my shorts.

  “I’m not thinking about her,” he replied as I gazed up at him, dazzled by the way the strobes made his ebony curls sparkle as if his black hair was sprinkled with crushed diamonds. “Enough talking.” His tone authoritative, his jaw firm, his eyes shimmered enticingly, portals that portrayed his sensitive soul. My favorite part. A side of him most didn’t see because he rarely allowed anyone that close. “I’m enjoying this.” One hand remained much lower on my back than I should have allowed. He slid the other beneath my braid, bringing my head to his chest and holding it there. His chest hard beneath my cheek, I could feel his steady heartbeat beneath my ear. This close I could trace the faded outline of the white wings on his favorite vintage Aerosmith t-shirt. I breathed in, filling my lungs with him. Like the scent of the ocean breeze, he was a balm to my weary restless soul.

  While James Bay crooned poignant lyrics about learning to be incomplete, I sighed softly and burrowed closer. I tried not to think about how empty the last three years of my life had been without Ramon in it. I tried not to worry about tomorrow. I tried not to even think about the end of this dance. Though older and presumably wiser, I wanted to pretend with him a little longer. I twined my arms tighter together around his neck. I twirled an errant curl around my finger. I pressed my breasts to his firm pecs, reveling in his warmth and the lean muscles that stretched taut over his strong frame. His swaying movements seduced me. I became the harmony to his melody. For the length of the song, I would allow myself the pretense that his heart beat in perfect tune with mine.

  * * *

  Ramon

  “Uh-um.” The interruption over the sound system brought a frown to my face. I glanced up as Tasha tapped the mic twice with her fingers. I felt Karen stiffen in my arms when she had been so beautifully pliant only a moment before. “If the non-dating old friends on the dance floor could take a break,” Tasha declared with a heavy dose of sarcasm weighting her words, “Free Wave is ready to get started and we’d love to welcome Ramon Martinez to the stage.”

  “I’ve got an extra guitar tuned.” Patrick held up a banged-up Gibson SG.

  “Turn that frown upside down and get on up here.” Tasha smiled, mischief brightening her often guarded green eyes. “We may not be the Dirt Dogs, but we can rock it, too.” She swept her gaze across the audience. “What do you say, Deck Bar? Think we can talk him into it?”

  While the crowd that filled the popular club clapped and whistled enthusiastically, Karen slipped away from me. She glanced around as if she had awoken from a daze to realize that we weren’t alone on the dance floor. I could identify. For me the world had shrunk down to just the two of us from the moment I had pulled her into my arms.

  “No, thanks. I’m good right where I am,” I told Tasha, catching Karen’s hand and attempting to draw her back to me.

  “C’mon. I want to see you play.” She tugged free from my grip, her cheeks becomingly flushed as if her pulse raced because of me. My eyes drifted across her pretty features. Her delicate brows. Her eyes a sunset that glowed with the sweetness of her spirit. Her lips soft and violet-pink like her favorite Dahlia flower. But though I searched for confirmation to support my wishful theory, I could find none in her shuttered gaze. Her shield was up, her soul denied to me. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you perform.” She peered at me through lashes the same golden color as her brows. She wasn’t wearing a bit of makeup not even any mascara. She didn’t need it. She was a natural beauty, her body toned and tanned from her symbiotic relationship with the surf and sun. She lifted her chin toward stage. “Go on,” she said, her tone laced with challenge. “I want to see if my theory about your dancing and guitar technique is correct.”

  “Alright.” I dipped my head and leaned in, brushing a few wispy strands of gold aside so I could whisper in her ear. “You can watch all you want, little voyeur, but there’s really only one way to know for sure.”

  I didn’t allow her a chance to retort. I jogged up the steps to the stage, hoping she was staring at my backside. I certainly stared at her sexy ass and those shapely legs of hers every chance I got. My lips curved into a grin when I turned and found Karen’s eyes on me. I took the guitar, strummed it a few times and nodded at Patrick. I was pleased with the tuning and even more pleased with the woman standing in front of the stage with her hands clasped close to her chest. She really did seem excited about the prospect of hearing me play. Going toe to toe with my surfer girl certainly excited me. She was challenging and more complex than most people realized. After all she had been our high school valedictorian. She was also a woman of contradictions, more regal in her cut off shorts right now than when she was wearing an expensive business suit. More in charge on her surfboard than she was as a senior VP at Roxy. She had weathered devastating storms, yet never blamed them for the things that had gone wrong for her. But anyone could see they had changed her. She hadn’t emerged unscathed. She used to believe in happily ever after. She had poured her everything into trying to create a love like her parents shared, but after all that had happened a shadow now clung to her, dampening the light of her bright spirit. I didn’t know if she had that type of faith anymore. More than anything, I wanted to banish her darkness. I wanted to be the one to make her laugh again. I wanted to see her happy more than I wanted my next breath. But I was out of practice being what she needed. Would she let me near her heart again? Would she give me a chance to take it if I tried?

  “Thanks for that encouraging welcome,” I leaned into the mic, confident on stage, more confident than I was contemplating baring my soul to Karen that was for certain. I locked my gaze with hers. She cocked her head to the side. I knew she wondered what song I would sing, wondered how far I would carry her challenge. Lips curving, I made my decision choosing an old song Patch and I had co-written about our ideals of the perfect woman. The woman I was currently looking at embodied all those things. I adjusted the strap on my borrowed guitar moving closer to Patrick. I told him what I had in mind. While he relayed my instructions to the rest of the band, I wrapped my fingers around the center mic. I reset my gaze on Karen. “I’m Ramon Martinez from the Dirt Dogs. Those of you that know me know that I’m more comfortable standing to the left of center while Linc melts your ears. But I have a little something I need to say to an old friend.” I raked my curls off my forehead with a practiced hand, a habit that served no purpose except to give me something to do because they always tumbled right back into my eyes. “Surfer girl. Pay close attention. This one’s for you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ramon

  It was a wonder that Karen didn’t bolt after the performance. I was no front man, and though Free Wave gamely followed my lead, it had been less than polished. Yet the words of the dusty piece Patch and I had laid down years earlier sent the message I wanted her to hear, and it rocked hard on the solo the way I wanted to rock her.

  She made her way back to our table after the song was through. I found my gaze on her slim legs and sexy ass as I handed the guitar back to Patrick. I thanked the band for helping me once agai
n and threaded my way through the dense throng of people pressing forward to hear Free Wave. I received more than a few appreciative claps on my back, and I had to stop to take a few cell photos with fans. Behind me I heard the band gearing up for the next number. I had some feedback to share with them later, but for right now I really had only one thing on my mind…

  Her.

  The crowd thinned as I approached. Though Karen had been focused solely on me during the song, some guy with blond hair nearly as long as her own and standing way too close currently engaged her attention.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” I heard him tell her. I had barely been able to catch his words over the jealous roar in my ears.

  “Yeah, for sure.” She nodded at him only noticing me as he moved away. Her open expression turned guarded when she took in my frown and stiffened stance.

  “Who was that?” I lifted my chin, hoping I sounded casual. I didn’t want to leave an opening for anyone else, but I couldn’t press too close because that might drive her away. I had forgotten how difficult that balance was to achieve.

  “Just a guy who surfs the cliffs in the morning.” That familiar faint line formed between her brows. “I don’t remember what his name is.”

  “You two surfing together?”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “And you don’t even know his name? Not cool, Karen.”

  “There’s a ton of guys out there every morning. I don’t know most of their names.” Her brows drew tighter together, her eyes flashing golden fire beneath them. “When did you become so uptight about what I do?”

  Since I had forfeited the privilege of looking after her. Since this divide had opened up between us. Since I found out how much she had struggled in my absence. And since I’d held her and realized I didn’t want to ever let her go. But I couldn’t say those things yet.

  “Come out with me tomorrow.”

  “To the pier?”

  I nodded.

  “I can’t surf there.” Her eyes clouded like the sky before a squall. “That was where I was when I…when they…when I found out…” She trailed off glancing away.

  “I understand.” My gut knotted tighter than the fingers I watched her twist together. “But I thought we agreed to leave the past behind us,” I gently reminded her. “Don’t you think maybe it’s time to make some new memories?”

  “I can’t. Not at the pier. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” She backed away from me, her agitated movements nearly toppling the pub chair beside her. I grabbed the back of it to keep it from tipping over. “That song was great,” she said to fill the awkward sudden silence between us, redirecting to safer topics. “Your voice…I’ve never heard you sing falsetto. It gave me chills. You should do it more often.” She was being kind when I should be comforting her. “Only…” She trailed off and swallowed. I could tell that whatever she was going to say next would hurt us both. “Dominic played that song for me before he went away that last time. I think maybe it was his way to try to mend things between us.”

  Shit.

  “Anyway.” Her grief dulled the rich patina of her gaze. “Thanks for dinner. It’s been good seeing you again, but I really should get going.” She reached in her front pocket and withdrew a wad of cash that she tossed on the table.

  “Don’t do that. I’m paying. I invited you.” I retrieved her money and tried to give it back to her.

  She shook her head, her gaze as furtive as her movements. I hated that my attempt to impress her from the stage had backfired so horribly. I grabbed her arm.

  “Stay a while. I want to talk some more.”

  “It’s late, Ramon.”

  “Tomorrow then.”

  Her expression darkened. “I have plans.”

  “Break them.”

  “I can’t. It’s Sunday. I teach a surf class for grommets, then I visit Dominic’s dad in the afternoon.”

  “Alright.” My gaze slipped from hers. I hoped she couldn’t see how much it hurt knowing she kept close ties to Patch’s father. Not that I didn’t like his old man. He was a great guy, tough, wise and caring, one of the best. I felt guilty for not trying harder to maintain lines of communication with him myself. But, I wondered about her motivation for doing so. Was it her way of keeping her husband’s memory alive rather than laying it to rest? If so that left no place for me.

  Some of my panic must have shown in my face.

  “How about Monday?” Her expression softening, she touched my arm. That simple act breathed hope back into my chest. “Meet me at the bottom of the stairs below the cliffs.”

  Chapter Eight

  Karen

  “Good job, sweetie.” I ruffled the five-year-old boy’s platinum blond hair and smiled approvingly. “That was a perfect pop up.”

  Arms outstretched for balance atop his foam board on the sand, he turned his head and grinned at me, showing me the big gap left by his two missing front teeth.

  “Give me ten more just like that on the sand, then we’ll go out in the surf and try it for real.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Campo,” he replied with a lisp.

  I moved quickly along to encourage the two other kindergarten students that were my responsibility in the class of five. Simone, bright faced and beautiful in a short sleeved, shorts length wet suit, her long cinnamon sun-streaked hair pulled back in a ponytail, managed the other two with her usual aplomb. Just back into town late last night after an exhausting schedule of radio and television appearances, she seemed unruffled and effortlessly stunning. I had been awake much of the night, tossing back and forth restlessly, replaying every word and response between Ramon and myself. My braid was as frayed as my mind. I felt like a rumpled reject compared to Simone.

  Still, I wore a soft smile as I glanced over at her, watching her patiently demonstrate the same techniques I was teaching my students. She and I had been friends since high school. No one was more proud of her newfound success in the music business than I was, except for maybe Linc. But I did envy the second chance she had been given with the man she had been in love with since the summer after her freshman year at college. The same summer I had met Dominic…and Ramon.

  There wouldn’t be a second chance for me.

  Not that I deserved one.

  “I’ll stay here on shore if you’re ready to take Logan out.” Simone’s words and her touch on my arm broke me free from my introspection.

  Grateful for the interruption, I nodded. “C’mon, surf king,” I told Logan, the only boy in our class, as I dragged the oversized blue and white striped foam practice board toward the water. Grinning, he jogged alongside me to keep up with my longer strides. “Let’s show the girls how we do this.”

  We had to work in a shallow surf. The waves slammed us into the sand beating us both up pretty good, but the little guy soldiered on, holding his position several seconds longer on each attempt. “You rock kiddo. You’re a natural.”

  Heart glittering in his baby blue eyes, Logan threw his arms around me. I didn’t hesitate to crouch down in the sand to return the hug, but deep inside I felt the stretching of the scar tissue left by a wound that would never heal.

  “Run up and tell Ms. Bianchi to send Kristine into the water.” My voice revealed the tightness inside my chest. The weight of the past heavy on my shoulders I stood slowly, patted the little boy’s head to reassure him when he sensed my unease. I pulled in a steadying breath once more determining to set those longings aside. Picking up the practice board, I pointed with my chin. “Go on. Tell Kristine that it’s her turn now.”

  Several hours later, a spot on my neck hot from where I must have missed it with the sunscreen, I hung up the last of the tiny wet suits beside my own inside the storage room at the back of the surf shop. I stepped into the alley where Simone and I had washed everything down and collapsed onto a beach chair beside her. “Whew.” I blew out a tired breath. “That was a workout today. I’m exhausted.”

  “For you, you mean.” Her beach chair creaked as s
he turned to face me. “You’re the one who did all the work fighting the surf.”

  A bottle clattered on metal before I could comment. We both turned our heads to the dumpster behind Hodad’s hamburger joint, two shops up the alley from where we sat. A familiar purple and gold knit cap with its iconic team logo briefly rose above the grimy rim, then disappeared. The woman. One of the street people. Sadly, part of a small contingent of them who hung out by the pier. This one was much younger than most. We called her the Laker’s girl. We didn’t know her real name. She always ran when we tried to approach her.

  I gave Simone a puzzled glance. “Why didn’t she take the stuff we set out for her?”

  “She ate the fresh fruit, but she only took one of the cans of food. She left the clothes and the rest of it.” Among our offerings had been a new Billabong hat with a brim. We had hoped it would keep her fair skin from getting burned. My brows drew together. “That wool cap has to be hot. I wonder why she didn’t swap it out.”

  “Who knows?” Simone gave me a pointed look. “She never does more than nod at me.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have a lot to say.” I pressed my lips flat.

  “Maybe,” Simone allowed. “But I wonder if she would tell me the truth if I asked her a direct question. She seems suspicious and secretive mostly.”

  I frowned. I knew she wasn’t talking about the mysterious girl anymore.

  “The kids and the lesson,” she continued. “We usually spread the work out evenly between us. Why the change today?”

  “I just wanted to be busy, I guess.”

  “Hmmm,” she mused. “I wonder if it has anything to do with a certain someone who just got back into town?”

  I stopped bouncing my nervous knee and glanced away from her.

  “Ash told me,” she confessed.

  “Don’t,” I warned her. The same way I had warned Ramon when he had stepped too close to topics I didn’t want to discuss.