Sea of Seduction: A Single Dad Sports Romance

by Jennifer Evans

  The conversations I’d had with them made me feel like part of the elite. “You’re Goff’s friend; you’re our friend.” They asked about my travels. “You been to South Africa?”

  I threw back my head and laughed. “Yep.”

  A clap on the back. “High-five dude. That place has got the gnarliest tubes.”

  I’d done a ton of surf travel. So had they.

  “Remember that time you killed it at J-Bay? That was a bomb you rode.”

  The unspoken theme was, “See! You’re one of us.”

  But their graciousness was a double-edged sword. If I was one of them, I needed to keep up with them. I was riding the Jet Ski while the rest of them started out on the boat.

  I pulled on my wetsuit, and over that, I tugged one of those Coast Guard survival suits. It was a gargantuan orange suit that kept you nice and warm in the heaviest conditions.

  But none of us were prepared for how heavy the weather would get.

  We cast off and started motoring through the harbor. That’s when I saw massive swells, unlike anything I’d ever seen before. They smashed against the seawall, exploding up and over it. This rarely happened and only during a big northwest swell. As soon as we carved around the corner, we slammed straight into an 8- to 10-foot wind swell chop. I gripped the handlebars tightly, my heart racing. After half a mile I was barely hanging on. I slammed along in the wake getting worked even though it seemed the boat was only going 10 knots or so.

  After about thirty minutes, the boat slowed and Goff said, “If we’re going to make it by the window, we’ve got to throw the hammer down.” He scratched his head. “We can do one of two things, we can turn around, or we’ve got to kick this baby up to 30 knots.” He glanced around at the others and me like a madman. “You guys are going to have to hang on for your lives.” He looked me in the eye and yelled, “Dude, this is gonna destroy you, but we pretty much have to open her up. It’s the only way we’ll ever get to surf. Your call.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “Hit it.”

  The guys looked at each other, thumbs up all around.

  I’ve never been on a rougher mission, not even close. I’ve been on some gnarly boat rides out to remote locations in severe weather. But that trip to Cortes Bank was by far the most violent.

  I held on tightly with no breaks as I ground up the swells and slammed down hard as we powered through a mountain range of surf, wind and furious cross chop. I was getting the merda knocked out of me. My shoulders were aching and tight. I blinked rapidly to clear the salt spray out of my eyes hoping for a glimpse of Catalina Island, which would mean we were about a fifth of the way there. We had to be close; it was only about twenty miles out.

  My breath came in short gasps and my arms burned with pain, begging for relief.

  I pulled up alongside the boat and screamed, “Hey, guys. Can somebody else take over? I need a break.” The only sound was the howling wind, and everyone looked at each other almost embarrassed. “How far have we gone?”

  Goff said, “We’ve barely gone fourteen miles.”

  I shook my head. I was the guest here. “Okay, let’s go.”

  We pushed out again. I could see the guys on the boat were taking a severe beating as well, so I didn’t feel so bad. About fifteen miles out, we were into open ocean storm surf, and the intensity shocked me. I glanced at the boat and saw a couple of the guys throwing up over the side, green gooey sickness. One of them looked severely ill, from the way he held his stomach and head. I wondered if a person could die of seasickness.

  We kept going for hours. I never got seasick, but I thought I would at any moment. The conditions were so violent that I thought that maybe we should turn around. But I didn’t say anything.

  Then about sixty-five miles out, everything went dead calm.

  The wind, the chop, everything laid down, and the next thing we knew, we were closing in on the Banks. When we were about six miles off, we started seeing avalanches of whitewater in the distance. Goff raised his fist and let out a whoop.

  It felt like we were a thousand miles out in the ocean. We hadn’t seen land for hours, and the feeling was beyond eerie. Surfers call a lineup a “lineup” because when you’re on your board in the ocean, you line up with a palm tree, a building, whatever. Out here at the Banks, there was nothing to line up with.

  We pulled up, and I got my first glimpse of the awesome power of Cortes Bank. It was a gigantic wave breaking in the middle of nowhere at all.

  The Jet Ski idled underneath me as I sucked in a quick breath. My heart froze for a moment then pounded in my ears.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Dominick

  I pressed my hand to my heart and then held my hands in prayer and gazed heavenward. “Papai, we’re here.” A giddiness filled my body, and I couldn’t wait to shuck that orange Coast Guard suit and get out there.

  “Let’s get the hell off this boat and surf!” Goff yelled. The other guys scrambled to get their gear. Then Goff got serious. “Nobody makes a mistake today. No mess-ups. Just remember, anything happens to the boat, we’re walking home.”

  We jumped on our boards and as a group started feeling our way into it, edging over massive waves. I warily eyed the horizon, and each set kept getting bigger and bigger. The boys spread out, and I saw a couple of them catch some bombs. The feeling of isolation was something I hadn’t prepared for. I’d been used to surfing with my buddies. Sometimes the waves were big, but there was usually time for talking to each other between sets. Not here at the Banks. I was on my own.

  And that’s when a massive, flawless wave stood up in front of me like a drive-in movie screen. I had prepared the best I could, but there wasn’t time to think about it. I whipped my board around. Oh, my God, I’m going to have to try to ride this thing. I was committed to the biggest wave of my life. I stroked mightily, and the wave caught me.

  Everything happened in slow motion. I felt like an ant on a mountain of dirt. I put weight on my front foot to hasten the journey down the face. It looked like I was going to make it, but a third of the way down, chops appeared. I came to a stop when my inside rail stuck on a lump. I bucked off my board, my arms spread out in front of me Superman style. I hit with brutal force. The water felt unbelievably thick, like quickly setting cement.

  I penetrated the surface, and the wave overtook me and thrashed me hard. Even now I don’t want to admit how terrified I was. I had never experienced anything close to this. Even my wipeout at Todos Santos seemed like child’s play compared to the impact of Cortes Bank. My body flipped so many times I lost count, and every flip disoriented me. I balled my body into a fetal position and felt like a newborn in a hurricane. I got drilled down deep and finally felt the jolting subside. I flutter-kicked my legs and extended my arms for the surface. After what seemed like hours, I broke through. My head spun on a swivel to check my surroundings. Another monster wave was seconds away. I looked wildly around for one of the rescue Jet Skis. No way would I survive this, but the Jet Ski was nowhere in sight. And then the wave was right on top of me. Blam!

  The second wave hit me with more impact than the first. It felt like unexpected airplane turbulence. I flipped upside down. Or was it right side up? I was completely disoriented, and the first thought that came to mind was of Lola. She had been so excited for me to be out here. Thank God she wasn’t privy to the realities of big wave surfing. The second thought was of Coco. This was exactly why she didn’t want me out here. Screw Coco. I would survive this and hold my head high.

  If I lived through it.

  I had no idea if my board was broken as my surf leash tugged crazily at my ankle. I continued to hold my breath and relax as the violent force assaulted my body. At one point I actually surfaced and gasped for breath while clearing the foam out of my face. But the oxygen relief was fleeting as a leftover whirlpool sucked me back under like a liquid vacuum. Before it pulled me down, I tilted my head to the sky and sucked in one more breath. Hold your breath, Dominick. Remember wh
y you’re here. My flotation vest was only for emergencies and oddly enough, the longer I was held down, the more I went with the flow. I decided to ride it out and was forced to the surface again. Whitewater surrounded me. The sun blasted off the foam in a dreamy display that looked like an overexposed photo. I was going a bit loco, but I didn’t care.

  The next whitewater gained momentum, and I prepared for impact with rapid breaths. Every bit of oxygen counted and then the wave was on top of me. One more breath and the avalanche smothered me. I don’t know how long I was down, but I had trained my lungs. Still, my training was of minimal help before I felt like I was boxing with a plastic bag over my head, my lungs a raging fire. I succumbed to the ocean as I moved quickly with the underwater river. Where was the surface? Should I deploy my floatation vest? I held on and miraculously, I popped to the surface, and the relative calm before the next sets hit which I knew was on the horizon. I scrambled onto my board.

  “Hey, Dominick!” Goff, who was on his board only a few feet away yelled. “Gnarly wipeout.” He motioned with one arm. “Come on, let’s get you some good ones.”

  I nodded. “Give me a sec.”

  Goff cocked his head. “You okay?”

  I raised a hand. “Yeah. Just need to catch my breath.”

  “Well don’t wait too long.” He glanced out at the horizon. “Don’t want to get caught on the inside.”

  I’d been a surfer all my life. I knew the dangers of the ocean, and I knew that if I was going to ride the biggest wave of my life out here at Cortes Bank, I needed to pull myself together. I took a couple of deep breaths and smiled shakily at my friend. “Ready. Let’s go.”

  We paddled furiously back out. Goff took off on the first wave and made it. And that was when I turned around and saw an even bigger wave than the one I’d just wiped out on. If I thought that drive-in-movie screen sized wave was massive, this was more like Mt. Everest on rollers. I have never seen a wave that size before or since and I count my lucky stars for that fact every day.

  Adrenaline filled my system, and I took a deep breath. If I didn’t start paddling right away, the wave would catch me. I stroked a couple of times and dropped in slow motion over the face of the monster. I found out that sometimes in giant surf your board gets going so fast that there’s not enough space for the water to flow between the fins. The water loaded up and my board started to drag in the water. It felt like pulling on an emergency brake. I started getting pushed back up the giant face—the very last thing I needed on the hugest wave of my life, 100 miles out to sea. It felt like I was glued in place, and then I started moving fast. The whitewater exploded all around me, and I thought, Go, go. Don’t fall, Dominick! Whatever you do don’t fall. Just point it and hold on, point it and hold on. Do not fall. I came flying out of the spume, and I knew I was going to make it.

  The feeling was one of being carried along on an avalanche, cold seawater spraying all around me. My father’s face flashed in my vision. I tilted my head slightly right, and what happened next I would never forget.

  I saw my father on his surfboard right next to me. Now that I’ve had time to process the event I can only assume it was a mirage, but my heart swelled with emotion when he lifted a hand in greeting. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I didn’t wipe them away as I held on for the ride of my life. We’re doing it, Papai! You and me, we’re riding this monster that has our name written all over it.

  I ended my ride to the whoops and hollers of all the guys.

  “Jesus fucking Christ! That’s got to be the biggest wave anyone’s ever ridden!” yelled one.

  “Well over seventy feet,” yelled another.

  I paddled close to the rocking boat, and the photographer held his camera in the air. “Got it all right here.”

  Goff paddled toward me and gave me a high five. “Way to go, man!”

  I jumped off my board, swam toward Goff and grabbed him around the waist in a hug. My larger than life athletic friend lost his balance and splashed into the water. “We did it!”

  He laughed and hugged me, slapping my back. “No man, you did it. Knew you had it in you.”

  I had ridden the largest wave of my life, and my father was there alongside me.

  I floated in the ocean with the mammoth waves breaking in the background and tears streamed down my face. A tingling warmth spread through my limbs as a smile slowly spread across my face. The ocean bucked and swayed underneath me, and I bowed my head. “I love you, Papai.” I raised my fist to the sky and let out a whoop. “Saúde!”

  At the end of the day, Goff and I let the boys drive the boat back while we decided to ride the Jet Ski all the way home. We battened down the gear and headed for land around dark. In pitch-black seas, Goff drove all the way to Catalina Island, and I brought her home to Point Rios.

  We arrived, tired and happy and moored the Jet Ski into the slip awaiting the boat. When the rest of the surfers arrived, Goff raced to his truck and returned with a thermos. “Celebration time, girls.” He uncapped the container, and the aroma of freshly cut grass hit our nostrils. “Wheatgrass anyone?” He smiled and pulled a pint of vodka out of his pocket. He dumped the contents into the thermos, gave it a shake and poured healthy shots into plastic cups. We all raised in a toast, held our noses and drank deeply of Goff’s homemade medicated concoction.

  “I don’t know about you guys,” Goff said. “But I’m ready for bed. I’ll pick up the boat and Jet Ski tomorrow.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “You killed it out there, man. Proud of you.” We all snapped photos of each other, wide grins on our faces, and then headed home.

  When I arrived, the house was dark, and I did my best not to wake anyone. I glanced at the clock. 1 a.m.

  On the way to the shower, I slowly creaked Lola’s bedroom door open and gazed at my princess. The moon shone through the open window, and I saw the rise and fall of her chest, her long blond hair fanned out on the pillow. Placing a hand over my heart, I thanked God for my family. Emotion choked my throat, and I jammed a fist into my mouth before I cried happy tears and woke her.

  As I lay in bed that night, a light rain falling, a euphoric smile stretched across my face. I took a deep, satisfied breath, my lungs expanding to their fullest. I had done it! I had achieved my goal. I couldn’t wait to tell Lola all about the epic day we’d had. Before I drifted off to sleep, my thoughts turned to Coco. I had wanted to share my life and my victories with her. But she wouldn’t accept me for who I was. I gritted my teeth as I thought of the bet. Screw her and her conniving ways. Nothing would get me down.

  I closed my eyes and fell into a blissful sleep with dreams of big waves, my father, and my sweet daughter.

  My dreams did not include Coco.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Coco

  When I woke the morning of the storm of the century, I immediately thought of Dominick. Turning on the TV, the news reports were filled with Coast Guard warnings about the inadvisability of taking your boat into the sea. “Extreme conditions. Dangerous surf. Harbor shutdowns.” A chill crept over my body as I sipped herbal tea and petted Victor Jose.

  I paced the hardwood floors as I thought of the decisions I’d come to over the past few weeks.

  It was time to talk to Rhys.

  After showering and pulling on rain gear, I make the walk to Rhys’s home, holding my umbrella at an angle so it wouldn’t blow away.

  I pounded on the door as a gust of wind nearly blew his hanging plants right off the porch. He threw the door open with a surprised look on his face. “Coco!” He grabbed my arm and drew me into the warmth of his cottage. “What are you doing? Get in out of the rain.” I shrugged out of my raincoat. “I’ll get you a towel.” He raced around the house as though I were a guest, not the lifelong friends we’d been. “Dry your hair. Sit in front of the fire. Let me get you a warm drink.”

  I settled myself on the sofa, and when Rhys handed me a steaming mug of chamomile tea, I set it aside and burst into tears. Between sobs, I said, “I�
��m sorry for hitting you. I was so mean to you.”

  He smoothed my hair and made shushing noises. “There, there. It’s okay. I was an asshole.” He looked me in the eye. “Will you forgive me? I’m so sorry I messed things up for you.” He sighed heavily. “You could’ve had a great thing with Dominick, and I ruined it.” He looked at his lap. “I was trying to be the cool dude and impress Alex with my dumb stories that I thought were entertaining. I never stopped to think about how much my words could hurt.”

  “It’s not all your fault. We’re in this thing together.” I collapsed against the sofa cushions. “That bet was a pretty dumb idea, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, guess so.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and forced me to meet his gaze. “But you had fun, right? Even if it was only for a few months?” He inspected his fingernails. “Still. That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to Dominick. We never stopped to think that the man was more than a sex toy.”

  I sniffed hard, and Rhys handed me a napkin so I could blow my nose. “I came here to tell you I made a decision.”

  His eyes were wide, and he placed a hand on my arm. “You’re not becoming a nun are you?”

  I let out a low laugh. “No. I don’t think the convent would accept me.” I sat forward. “You know how I’ve always wanted to study holistic herbs?”

  “One of the best anti-aging medicines.”

  “Well, I’ve been talking to some of the herbalists in Catalina, and they’ve agreed to train me.”

  “Catalina Island? That’s a couple hour boat ride. Are you planning to go on weekends?”

  “I’m moving there. Permanently.”

  Rhys let out a gasp. “You can’t do that. What about the shop?”

  “You’ll take over.” I reached into my pocket and withdrew my key to the boutique. I pressed it into Rhys’s hand and looked him in the eye. “I messed up bad. I used the only man I’d ever truly loved and made him a laughingstock.” I wiped a tear. “I can’t bear the thought of running into him or Lola. I’ve put them through enough.”