Billionaires and Beach Bums: Two Complete BWWM Romance Novellas

by Mia Caldwell

  “Nah, but thanks. You’ll get more attention if it’s just you. I’m sure those two tickets cost more than a private lesson. You should have it.”

  I give him my most winning smile. And, okay, I push my upper arms together just a bit. Just a little more cleavage can’t hurt, right? “Really,” I say, “I’d rather have the company. I’m not a serious athlete, I swear, and I’d rather have someone to laugh with.”

  “All right. You’re on. I’m Tyler Riordan.” He offers me his sunscreen-y hand and I take it.

  “Kiera Simpson. Shaking feels weird since you already had your hands all over me before you even knew my name.”

  Tyler laughs. It’s an easy laugh, not the nervous bark I often get from guys who just don’t seem to know how to take it when a girl makes jokes. "Life is different in the islands, hoaloha," he said, blue eyes sparkling.

  “Is that Papiamento?”

  “No, Hawaiian. Sorry, I’ve never been to Aruba before, and I’m glad they all seem to speak English, too,” he says.

  "And Dutch, and Spanish, and often French and German. It kind of blows my mind that the housekeeping staff at the hotel speak more languages than most Americans with a degree in languages."

  “Sure, but could they discuss when to use the future conditional tense?”

  I laugh. "Probably not and they’re the better for it. Of course, I couldn’t do that or speak a second language. Ugly Americans on the loose!"

  “Eh, you’re not so bad,” he says with a crooked grin. “I mean, you don’t need to join a sideshow or anything.”

  I lightly punch his arm. Like granite. “Did you learn how to treat girls from a third grader?”

  He rubs his arm as if I’d had any impact at all. “He swore he knew what he was talking about! I guess I should ask for my quarter back.”

  “C’mon,” I say, grinning back at him over my shoulder, “let’s go make fools of ourselves.” Okay, he doesn’t have any tats or piercings and his swim shorts have bright blue flowers on them. Probably not in a motorcycle gang. But it’s not like bad boys were scratching my itch, right? What can it hurt? I’m on vacation so I don’t even have to worry that my mom will know I’m with a nice guy and be happy for me.

  The first part of the lesson is under the shade of a tent. Allie is waiting for us when we get there. She looks like the cover model for Extremely Fit Surfer Monthly. She’s wearing a neoprene suit that fits like a second skin. Her arms and legs are tanned and toned. Her blonde hair hangs around her shoulders, artfully messed and tangled by the salt air and the waves. One wrist is covered in rope bracelets and she has a silver hoop in her delicate nose. I despise her immediately.

  Maintaining the hate proves to be more than I can handle and still pay attention to the lesson, though. Allie is completely cheerful and easygoing as she selects boards for us and runs us through the “pop-up” drills.

  “You don’t want to try to stand up one knee at a time,” she tells us, demonstrating. “You’ll go right over. I mean, you’re going to fall in. Even the world’s best surfers fall in. But let’s try to make it so you fall in doing the fun stuff, not just standing up.”

  She shows us how to go from flat on our bellies to crouching on the board. Honestly, it’s hard enough to do on dry land. I feel clumsy and ridiculous. Allie does it as smoothly as a cat. If, you know, cats surfed. I lay on my stomach, pretending to paddle the sand. On her cue, I concentrate on launching myself with my arms, getting my feet under me…and fall right off the board and onto Tyler.

  “Whoa there,” he says, catching me and helping me back up.. “I’m pretty sure switching boards mid-wave is a varsity level move.”

  “I’m just an over-achiever,” I say, hoping he can’t see how I’m blushing.

  "You’re trying to make it happen," says Allie. "You’ve got to just let it happen. You’re on your belly. Then you’re on your feet. You don’t even know how you got there."

  Riiight. I hate her again.

  Tyler is able to pop up over and over, but he looks like he does one handed push-ups while he’s in the grocery line.

  After I’ve managed to keep my feet and we’ve gotten the talk about currents and rip tides, we head out into the water. I gotta tell you, it feels really cool to walk into the water with a surfboard under your arm. Maybe I’ll buy one and just walk in and out of the water with it. Let people assume they just missed it when I was actually riding the waves.

  Allie walks us out to where the waves are swelling up for their final run in to the shoreline. They’d seemed really small when I was on the beach, but now they look terrifying.

  “Okay, get turned to face the beach and be ready to pop-up when I say,” she says.

  My heart is pounding against the board. My arms feel like jelly and I can’t imagine I’ll have the strength to leap to my feet. I vow to spend more of my lunch hours in the firm’s gym. I risk a glance over at Tyler. He looks totally relaxed and ready. He grins and gives me a thumbs up.

  “Here it comes!” calls Allie. I feel the board rise just a little. “Pop-up!” she shouts and I bound to my feet.

  It’s ridiculous, trying to get my balance on a board that’s moving with increasing speed toward the shore. I can barely catch my breath. But…I’m doing it! I’m up on this surfboard, watching the beach get closer. As my board hits the sand, I’m completely exhilarated. I want to do this forEVER.

  “Nice ride!” Tyler says, walking over with his board.

  “That was so fun! I can’t believe I didn’t fall off!”

  Allie joins us on the shore, saying, “Great job, guys. Let’s get right back out there!”

  “I dont’ know,” I say, “If I stop now, I have a perfect record.”

  Allie smiles the smile of a service professional who hears the same jokes made over and over. “Nah, you’re not a surfer until you eat it big. Sand caked in your scalp, salt water burning your throat! Let’s go!”

  She’s not selling it, really. But I use that adrenaline high to get me back out into the waves. Tyler has gotten there first and Allie is positioning his arms. I feel a weird surge of jealousy seeing her hands on that body. Sure, I’ve known him all of 90 minutes, but he’s mine. Back off, hippie.

  But Tyler looks at me and smiles. I turn myself around and prepare for the next wave.

  “Okay, pop-up!” Allie calls.

  I pop up and immediately fall off the board. I feel the swell go over me and the tug of the board’s leash on my ankle. The water is pretty calm, so it’s easy to break the surface again, but my dignity took a hit. So much for being a natural.

  “You’re good, just come right back out here!” calls Allie, cheery and encouraging as a T-ball coach.

  I hop back on and paddle out, my earlier exhilaration dampened a bit. Tyler joins me after his successful run to shore.

  “Hey, looks like you got that sandy scalp Allie wanted you to get,” he says with that cute ass crooked grin.

  “Guess I’m legit, now,” I say. I’m ready to surf for real now. Bring it.

  But, in reality, what is brought is more salt water in my throat. The next three waves kick my ass and I can tell the tide is coming in because they’re getting bigger. Or I’m getting more tired. Or something. It’s sucking more and more, that’s what.

  I struggle to keep my feet on the fourth swell and I hear Tyler cheering me on. On the one hand, it’s sweet that he’s looking out for me. On the other hand, it makes me feel like a child being cheered on her first two-wheeler ride. But not for long, because a wave laps up from behind and throws my delicate balance off and my increasingly waterlogged body into the surf.

  I sit up and wipe the sand out of my eyes to watch Tyler riding in. He looks like a guy from a 60’s surf movie. Perfect form, tan muscles. I wave, half hoping it’ll throw him off and knock him over, too. I’m not always very nice. Instead, though, he waves back and slowly bends over, putting his hands on the deck of the board. He lifts first one leg and then the other, riding in to the beach i
n a handstand.

  “You are a big fat cheater!” I say as he hops off the board. “No way this is your first time.”

  He shakes the water from his hair like a dog and smiles. “Did I say it was?”

  “You didn’t need a lesson at all, then.” I feel vaguely annoyed, the amount of sand in my swim bottoms being only a part of it.

  "No, but I did need a way to spend more time with you." Now how can a girl stay mad at that?

  “Here,” he says walking up the beach, “I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong.”

  He digs a trench for the board’s fin thing and drops it into the sand. “Stand here.”

  I step onto the board and he steps on behind me. Then, like in every movie ever, he stands very close, positioning my legs, my torso. I can barely pay attention to what he’s doing. I just feel how warm he is against my chilled skin. I feel each grain of sand pressing into my skin from his. I feel how very muscular he is. And I feel that maybe he’s kind of into standing this close to me, too.

  Allie comes up from the water, totally cock-blocking me. “Hey, you guys, you still have fifteen minutes of instruction!” She looks at Tyler, moving my feet farther apart. “I think maybe you don’t need it, though.”

  “Yeah, I think I got it,” Tyler says. “I’ve been surfing about ten years.”

  “You look kind of familiar,” Allie says, peering at him. “What’s your name?”

  “Tyler Riordan.”

  She literally jumps up into the air, clapping her hands. "Holy shit! Dude, I watched your Pipeline video on like endless loop! Oh my god! Why didn’t you say anything? God, I’m so embarrassed. Like I could teach you." She’s having something close to a seizure, slapping her own forehead, leaning over like she has to catch her breath. “Tyler Fucking Riordan. Oh shit.”

  Tyler steps off the board and walks over to shake her hand. Her knees kind of buckle under her. Seriously, it’s nuts. I wouldn’t be that starstruck to meet the damned President. Not knowing a thing that everyone else seems to know makes me cranky. I’m about to just get off the board when Tyler waves his arm back toward me and says, “I’m going to get back to Kiera here, though. Nice to have met you, Allie. You’re doing a great job.”

  He comes back to me and Allie walks away to never wash her hand again. He grins, “Eh, I slipped her a twenty to react like that. It makes a good impression.”

  “Uh-huh. So, I take it you’re like a professional surf god or something?”

  “I’m lucky enough to get to do this a lot and I love it, so yeah, I’m pretty good. But I don’t get paid to do it, so I guess I’m just an amateur surf god.”

  “Were you this terrible when you started?”

  He laughs. “Well, I did fall off a lot. But keeping at it is key. It takes time to be able to just feel what you’re supposed to do.”

  He picks up his board and says, “Been a while since I rode a rental foamy. I had to get a feel for it again before I started showing off. C’mon, let’s catch this rising tide.”

  I’m utterly exhausted but I’m surprised to find I don’t want to disappoint him, so I trail behind him into the waves. The sight of his back muscles rippling under the rash guard does help fortify me, though. Popping up with my feet placed the way Tyler showed me, I have a successful run in. That rush comes back and I get a few more in before I’m smashed off my board by a big incoming wave.

  The water is churning now and it’s hard to figure out which way is up. Luckily, we aren’t out very far, so when I touch bottom, I can just go the other way. But when I finally make it to shore, sputtering, sand caked, throat and eyes burning, I know I’m done for the day.

  “That’s it for me,” I gasp when Tyler glides effortlessly to my feet. “I’m just beat.”

  “It’s hard work,” he says. “You deserve dinner. My treat.”

  “I look like a hermit crab,” I tell him. “I need a shower and clean clothes. I’m a city girl, we don’t go to dinner covered in salt.”

  “Need a ride back?” he asks. “I have a jeep,”

  “Um, I took the shuttle here, but sure. How will you change, though?”

  “My clothes are in the car,” he says. “I’m always prepared.”

  My body is exhausted, but my mind is racing. Looks like I might get that island hook up after all.

  Kiera

  After turning in our boards and rash guards and enduring more gushing from Allie, I follow Tyler to the parking lot. There’s an adorable red jeep there with a surfboard in the back.

  “Why didn’t you bring your own board down?” I ask him.

  “I wanted to get a look at the waves first. Honestly, if you hadn’t turned up, I’d have just gone.” He smiles at me. “No offense, but there’s not very good surfing in Aruba.”

  “Why would I be offended? I didn’t make the waves. But yeah, I could barely keep my feet in those little wading pool waves.”

  “It’s great for beginners!” he says, like he’s trying to convince me not to feel bad.

  I get in the passenger side beside him. “It’s fine,” I say. “I didn’t think I was going to make the cover of Surf Magazine or whatever. I didn’t even really want to come, I’d gotten the lessons for Andrea.”

  Starting the car and backing out, Tyler gives me a look free of his usual joking manner. “I’m glad you did. And I’m glad she didn’t come.”

  It feels a little intense for the first couple hours of knowing someone, so I grin and look out the window, saying “Me too.”

  We can’t really talk as we drive, even at the slow island speeds, it’s just too loud. But the silence is comfortable. Tyler follows me into the hotel and I think that I never really invited him, he just assumed.

  At the door of my room, for a moment I think about thanking him and promising to meet for dinner. I was going to be different, no more one night stands… But then I see those sky blue eyes, that crooked grin. That chest.

  I open the door and usher him in.

  “It’s a suite, so there are two bathrooms. Feel free to use Andrea’s, she’s not coming back until Friday.”

  “Where’d she go? Camping trip, boating excursion?”

  I turn toward my room. "I’ll tell you over dinner. I need this shower."

  And I need to sort out my thoughts. As the cool water washes all the salt and sand out of my hair and out of every little crevice of my body (good lord, how does sand get in there?), I try to figure out what I want from this.

  Old Kiera wouldn’t think twice. Tap that ass! Or whatever girls are supposed to say now. I work too much to keep up. The last few times I hooked up though? I ended up feeling depressed for days afterward. And it’s not like I’d wanted something more, I never intended more than a one nighter. But still I was left feeling like I’d had a break up. My mom keeps telling me I need more human connection. Andrea tells me I should have enough fun for the both of us. My sister tells me it’s time to find a real boyfriend. But I don’t feel like I have time for any of those. You stop swimming, you sink to the bottom of the ocean. DC is packed full of the best and the brightest, the top of every law school in the country. And if I don’t keep working, no one is going to stop and hold my place for me.

  As I soap up the washcloth and rub it across my body, I can’t help think about how it felt to have Tyler behind me on the board. The way it felt to be wrapped in that strong body. To feel him pressed against my backside. My body is winning out over my brain, for sure.

  I wrap the towel around me and go to my closet. I wish I still had that white bandage dress, but Andrea had worn it when she went out and I hadn’t seen her or the dress since. It looked better on her anyway.

  I’m reaching for a loose, flowy dress when I look up to see Tyler in the doorway, watching me. The white towel wrapped around his hips is just barely tucked in, the gap exposing a muscular thigh. My heart starts to beat faster and I can’t help but notice the tenting starting at the front of that towel of his.

  “Oh, hi!” I say, ever el
oquent.

  “Hey,” he says and takes a step toward me.

  “I thought you were hungry,” I tease, as he puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me in.

  "I’m very hungry," he says, nuzzling into my neck. My knees feel like they’d like to give way like Allie’s did. My hands roam over the broad expanse of his back as he kisses up my neck and behind my ear. The towel on my hair falls off when I tilt my head to meet his lips.

  When our lips meet, he pulls me closer still, pressing our bodies together fiercely. Any doubts that thought they could nag me fall away, leaving me to the need of my body. When his towel finally gives up and falls to the floor, I let my hands drift down to his rear. As finely muscled as the rest of him, firm.

  My touch encourages him to pull the towel from my body as well and our skin comes together in near desperation. It feels good, right. I back him toward the bed as we kiss and we climb in.

  I am charmed by how pale he is from mid thigh to hip, like he’s put on a white bathing suit that has a shockingly anatomically correct (so very correct) drawing on the front.

  “I say I’m always prepared, but I’ve slipped up. Hang on, I need to go to my bag,” He starts to get up.

  There’s always that moment where I think “Do I offer the condom and look like a big ol’ slut that needs a stack of condoms at the bedside or just wait and let him get it?” And I know that no man should think less of me for it. But some do. And some find it sexy. I decide it’s best to know which sort he his.

  “I’ve got you covered,” I say. “As it were.” I open the bedside drawer and pull out the little foil packet. I tear it open with my teeth, smiling at him all the while. It’s pretty clear he’s not the sort to be troubled by it. His already impressive erection grows as I pull the condom out.

  When I roll it on, he lets out a moan. Nothing sexier than knowing a man is into what I’m doing. We’re not messing around here. Let all that surfboard time count as foreplay.

  I’m so ready for him, but I delay just a bit by kissing my way down that gorgeous chest. All that popping-up and core-work balancing on a board has served him well. Each muscle is defined by sun-kissed skin. I lay back on the bed and pull him to me. It’s like we fit perfectly. I feel him pressing at my opening and my hips rise to take him in.