Caught in the Surf (5 page)

Because she knew if she went out there, she’d start falling for Casey as easy as falling off a surfboard. She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, but she just
knew
. Just like she’d known about Rafael. She’d spent four hours with him, surfing and talking on the beach, and she’d known she would fall in love with him. And she had.

Casey was having the same effect on her. Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true. Rafael had charmed her. Worked her. Flirted and romanced her. Pulled her into his orbit. Sucked her under as if the force of his personality and determination to have her was a riptide carrying her out to sea. She’d gone willingly, since he was beautiful, and an amazing surfer. He had a warm, stable, happy family, and they’d welcomed her with open arms. That right there had been enough.

Casey? So different. He wasn’t trying at all. Not overtly. He teased, he flirted, he sympathized, but something told her he wasn’t playing a game. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but she knew, deep down in her soul, if she went out into the water and surfed with Casey…she wouldn’t come out the same woman.

Casey sat straddling his board, way out on the water, waiting. He didn’t rush her, just sat waiting.
 

Lani had a vision then. If she didn’t go out there, she’d go back to Oahu and pretend to forgive Rafael; he’d wanted to reconcile at first. Right up until the end, when they were divvying up their life via email, he kept trying to tell her it was a mistake, he loved her, he missed her, blah blah blah. Lani had known better. She’d heard it in his voice the one time she’d returned his phone call. He’d been wheedling, convincing. Playing her. And Lani wasn’t having any of it. She’d realized, once she left Hawaii completely, that he’d never loved her. He’d liked, enjoyed her, been attracted to her. But it wasn’t
love
. He’d spent five years with her, married her, but…she still hadn’t been enough for him.
 

If she went out and surfed…it would be a beginning. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe they’d be friends, and she’d just stay on Seeker’s Island and find something to do.
 

Or maybe she’d let him seduce her. And she’d get her heart broken all over again.

She untied the sarong and tossed it to the sand, leaving her sandals and wallet and sunglasses on top of it. One foot into the water, then both. Up to her calves, the board floating next to her. Then Casey smiled at her, and something in the carefree curve of his lips settled her nerves. She pushed the board ahead of her, lay down on it, and paddled out to Casey. He didn’t say anything, just sat staring at her, letting his gaze rake appreciatively over her body, then back to her eyes.
 

Then he leaned over and pushed her off her board, laughing as he peeled away to catch the wave rising up behind them. He crouched on the board, long arms spread out wide, standing up slowly. Lani held on to her board and rode the wave, watching Casey carve lazily just ahead of the crest. He wasn’t a showy surfer, but he knew what he was doing, and he obviously enjoyed it. He rode easily, comfortable in his balance.
 

Lani settled back astride her board, paddling out a bit farther to watch the water. There. She felt the energy in the sea change, felt the wave before it was visible.
 
She lengthened her strokes, felt the shift, felt herself pushed upward, faster and faster now. She knelt on the board, found her balance, and settled into the familiar crouch.

Home.
Now
…now she was home.

The wave was huge, curling and still rising. She let herself ride down it, then kicked her back heel down and carved up the wave, feeling the water spray her face and soak her hair, felt her heart swell, tasted brine. A grin spread across her face, lighting her up from within. She caught a glimpse of Casey sitting on his board near the shore, watching. There was Billy, standing with his hand shading his eyes. A few other people on shore.
 

She knew when she was being watched.

The wave was going to crest soon; time to ride the barrel. She sliced in an S-curve along the bending side of the wave, jerked the tip skyward, and felt the glee and the lifting stomach of going airborne, clutched the side with both hands to pin to her feet, salt stinging her eyes and pickling her tongue, and the she set the board down on the rushing water, crouching low as the barrel wrapped around her.
 

She rode it out, and then, when crest met sea all around her, she let the ocean take her and rolled with it, clutching the board and letting it drag her to the surface. And of course, when she came gasping into the air, Casey was sitting on his board next to her.

“That was awesome, Lani. Nice ride.”

She slid astride her board and slicked her hair back. “Thanks. It was great to be back out on the water.” She met his eyes. “Seriously, thank you, so much. I probably would’ve been too chicken to go out if you hadn’t made me.”

“I didn’t make you.” His eyes were intense, full of a thousand things she knew he’d never say.

She felt the next wave growing, and turned to meet it.
 

They surfed for hours, until Lani was sore and exhausted and exhilarated. They finally left the water when Casey’s stomach growled loud enough that Lani heard it over the crash of the waves. A handwritten note was weighted onto the fabric of her sarong by a colored glass stone, the kind of thing tourists used to string onto necklaces.
 

Kailani,
it read,
keep the board. I always knew I was just holding on to it until it was time to give it away. Watching you surf is payment enough. Maybe that sounds creepy. I hope it doesn’t, because I’m not a creeper. I just like watching good surfing.
 

All the best,

Billy.

P.S. Casey is a good man.

Lani read the note through several times, tearing up. She’d grown up never owning a damn thing except the clothes on her back. Then she’d met Makani on a beach, watched him carving at a hunk of tree with primitive tools. She’d watched, rapt, as he slowly and painstakingly turned a tree into a surfboard. He’d ignored her completely, but when she finally stood up to leave, knees sore from sitting in one place from sunset to moonrise, he’d met her eyes, nodded at her.
 

“You come back tomorrow,” he’d said. “I show you this.”

So she’d gone back, day after day. She’d never asked, but he always endeavored to feed her. He showed her how to carve boards, using ancient, time-honored techniques, and he did so without ever saying a word. He kept her busy, and she was thankful, because if she was busy cleaning up shavings and straightening tools, she wasn’t on the streets with the drug dealers and pimps. Makani had been the one to pay her fees to enter her first competition.
 

When she stormed out of the house, Rafe in her wake, she’d gone straight to Makani, and he’d turned Rafe away, crossing his broad forearms over his thick brown chest and shaking his head imperturbably. Rafe hadn’t been fool enough to argue.
 

Even now, Makani was the only person in all of Hawaii she missed.
 

She’d left behind everything she owned except a phone, a charger, some clothes, and her purse; everything else had belonged to Rafe. Even the settlement money was his money. She hadn’t done a competition for over a year, and she’d lived on the
Sufer
shoot money for the last six months. Now she was down to nearly nothing.
 

And something about being given this board was wreaking havoc on her emotions.
 

Casey’s hands descended to rest on her shoulders, a comforting weight. “He’s a nice guy, Billy Redhawk.”

“And what he says about you? Is that true?” Lani twisted in place to look up at Casey.

Casey shrugged uncomfortably. “I’d guess that’s something you have to decide for yourself.”

“You gave me my money back,” Lani said.

Casey frowned. “Well, I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. You were a person in need, and it was wrong of me to try to profit from it.”

Lani’s hands had ended up flat on his chest. This was entirely too familiar. Too pleasant. Too right. But yet she wasn’t pulling away. If anything, she was being drawn closer by the heat of his body, the strength in his arms, the confident compassion in his eyes. She was being lured in by the way he’d surfed with her for hours and never made it a competition, never pushed the boundaries between them. Every time she and Rafe surfed together, he had turned it into a contest. Who could pull off the best trick, who could get the most air, who could ride the barrel longest. It kept her sharp for contests, but it had placed a strain on their relationship. They were close in skill, and if she beat him, Rafe would get pissy. But she liked to win; it was hammered into her psyche. She had to be the best. To survive on the streets as she had, she couldn’t show weakness. So she’d always felt like she had to ride a fine line between winning and losing.
 

Casey dragged in a deep breath, as if summoning courage, and then let her go, stepping back. “Go to dinner with me?”

“Like…a date?”
 

Casey grinned. “It could be, if you wanted it to be.”

Lani shook her head, blowing out a sigh. “I honestly don’t know what I want.”

Casey closed the space between them, and Lani forgot to breathe. “Liar.” His voice was pitched low, so she had to strain to hear. “You do too know what you want. You’re just afraid of it.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I didn’t say—” Casey cut himself off with a slow smile as he realized the implications of what Lani had just said. “Then what are you afraid of?”

Lani swallowed hard, and then let the truth out. “Getting hurt. I don’t know you, like at all, and…this feels like insta-love, and it scares me.”

Casey laughed. “Insta-love?”

Lani rolled her eyes. “In romance novels, the characters meet and fall hopelessly in love within the first fifty pages, even though they just met.”

“And you’re falling in insta-love with me?”

Lani sighed. “No, I— just…forget I said anything.” She turned away before any more embarrassing truths escaped. “I’m gonna shower. Dinner sounds good.”

She’d taken about three steps before she found herself tugged backward by Casey’s finger hooked in the back string of her bikini top. “I don’t think so. You’re not getting off that easy.”

Lani twisted, trying to get away. “Let go! You’re gonna make my top come off.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was grinning. “And that would just be
tragic
.” He pulled her backward, and she forced herself to take backward steps toward him. Finally, her back was to his front, and she felt herself tense. “How about I make this easier on you? I’ll give you a choice.”

She held her breath, wanting to turn and look up at him, but refusing to let herself.

“I’ll be waiting outside your door in one hour. If you come out of your room, dressed for a nice dinner, then I’ll know you’re letting yourself have what you want, fears be damned. If you don’t, I’ll make sure we’re friends, and
just
friends It’s your choice.”

*
 
*
 
*

Lani swept the last lock of hair into a bobby pin at the back of her head, leaving most of her thick black hair free, just a few long strands in front pulled away out of her eyes. She adjusted her dress, which she’d just bought at the thrift store in town. She’d used most of the hour finding the dress, since she had nothing nice of her own, which had only left about twenty minutes for her to shower and get ready. It felt worth it, though. The burnt umber–colored dress was a simple off-brand thing, but it fit perfectly, hugging her generous curves and falling just above her knees, and cut low enough to be sexy but high enough to not be slutty. Plus, it had only cost her twenty bucks.
 

She’d shaved, put on makeup, and all-around made herself feel like a woman again; it was a wonderful feeling, after six months of slumming it on couches. She wasn’t sure where this was going with Casey, but it never hurt to be prepared.
 

Casey was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a worn brown leather belt. The shirt was tight enough to show his incredibly, gloriously, absurdly muscled physique. As she drew near to him, Lani caught a whiff of cologne, soap, and cigarettes. Strangely, that last scent didn’t bother her like she’d thought it would. It was starting to become a familiar part of Casey-ness.

Just before she left, Lani had changed from the flats she’d originally chosen into a pair of wedge sandals that added four inches to her height. The wedges were a ridiculous use of space in her backpack, but as a very short woman, she just couldn’t fathom being without height-adding shoes.

Now, with an extra four inches, the top of Lani’s head came almost to his breastbone.
 

“You showed up,” Casey noted.

“Despite being taller than a goddamned tree, you’re kind of fun to be around.” Lani gave him a playful shove, and failed to make him even sway in place. She shoved him again, harder this time, frowning; he still didn’t budge.

Casey laughed. “It’s not my fault you’re a pixie.” He put an index finger to her shoulder and gave her a gentle nudge, forcing her to take a step backward.

Lani growled, feeling her fierce competitive nature take over. She set her legs, placed both palms on his chest, and pushed as hard as she could, putting her whole body into the shove. Casey, to her credit, actually had to step back, albeit laughing. He then wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the air, pulling her flush against him.
 

Suddenly, the game wasn’t so funny to Lani anymore. She was forced to wrap her legs around his waist and hold on to his neck as he held her in place, his hands now on the swell of her ass. She was breathless then, feeling the blood rush out of her head and down between her thighs. With her legs around his waist, she could just barely hook her feet together, and now her eyes were level with his, and his lips were inches away, and her heart was hammering, and his mammoth size was intoxicating.