20. Daisy
20
DAISY
M y ex took me on loads of trips. St. Michael’s, New York City, Miami. I’d gladly trade in all of them for two days of surfing with Harrison, even if I suspect he’s mostly invited me to make sure I stay alive until Sunday night. Fortunately, I already told Wharf Seafood that I couldn’t work weekends, but I’d have quit if it meant not going. I’ve never been so excited for a trip in my life.
“We should surf on the way,” I tell Harrison Tuesday night as he glides up alongside me in the water.
He quirks a brow. The dying light catches on the droplets of water on his unshaved jaw, and my heart quickens. I’ve never laid eyes on a man who looks better than Harrison on a surfboard.
“Surf on the way where ? Aren’t we surfing now?”
“On the way to Malibu. I was looking at the map last night. We could stop at Asilomar in Monterey, then drive through Big Sur. You could finally see McWay Falls.”
“Daisy, it would take us hours longer to travel along the coast, especially if we’re stopping. Especially if we’re surfing. ”
“Right. That’s why we should leave Thursday morning instead and stay in Santa Barbara that night.”
He grins. It’s that same feral, cocky grin I fell in love with a decade ago, but there’s something sweet in his eyes at the same time. I amuse him and irritate him in equal measure. “Thursday? You want me to take two days off work?”
“I’ve got it all plotted out. We spend the first day surfing and driving through Big Sur, like I said.” I sit up straight, too excited to be chill about my plans for us. “Then we surf at Rincon on the second day before driving down to Malibu. Come on. When was the last time you took a vacation?”
“Well, there was the two months I spent pretending to be in London.”
I lean back on my palms. “That is not a vacation.”
“You’re going to get me fired, Daisy.” He says it as if he doesn’t really mind, however.
“And then you’ll just be a super-rich guy enjoying the final days of his youth while searching for a career he actually enjoys. I can see why you’d be worried.” My mouth forms a pout, as if this is indeed a sad state of affairs. His gaze falls for a moment to my lips before he glances away.
“I’m not rich, these are not the final days of my youth, and you have an unnerving ability to make ridiculous ideas sound entirely plausible.”
“So we’re leaving Thursday?”
He laughs. “No, but I can probably take Friday off. Half the office is out with the flu anyway. We can stop at one surf break and possibly see McWay Falls.”
I guess it’s better than nothing, though it does shoot my “ Oh, this hotel only has one bed? ” fantasy to hell.
“Stop pouting,” he says. “If I’d agreed to Thursday, you’d have suggested we leave Wednesday to see Carmel too.”
“I do love Carmel. And there’s a good break right at—”
He barks a laugh. “I knew it. You’re a bad influence, Daisy. ”
“I’m the best influence.”
“You may be both,” he says, smiling.
I wake before he does on Friday morning, too excited to stay asleep, and move through my normal cycle of stretches and push-ups and lunges in the early morning sun. When I’m nearly through, I spy Harrison behind me, a cup of coffee in his hand, watching.
He appears guilty, as if he’s been caught at something.
I come inside, locking the door behind me. “Were you being extra quiet so I’d let you drink your coffee in peace?”
“Something like that.” He can’t quite meet my eye, which leaves me wondering. Things are changing with us, whether he’s willing to admit it or not. Sure, he’s been well aware that I’m female for a while—that erection he was sporting my first morning here is one of my favorite memories—but it’s different now. When he looks at me in a certain way, it’s as if he’s considering the possibilities rather than trying to ignore them.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask.
His gaze meets mine, as if I meant more by the question. Maybe I did.
“Yeah.” His smile makes my stomach flutter. “I’m ready.”
He drinks his coffee, I take a quick shower and then we are on the road, moving south of Santa Cruz and past farmland—Watsonville, Salinas—that I doubt has changed much since John Steinbeck made it famous.
“It’s an amazing state, isn’t it?” I ask, staring out the window. “People talk endless shit about California but look at it. We’ve got everything here.”
He glances at me. “You sound like you don’t want to leave at the end of August.”
There’s a small pinch at the center of my chest. It’s entirely possible that I’ve got nothing to go back to in DC, but that still won’t mean I get to stay here instead.
“I’m…ooh, pull over!” I cry suddenly. “They’ve got eight avocados for a dollar at the stand ahead.”
“What the hell are we going to do with eight avocados?” he demands. “I’ll buy you a thousand avocados if you just agree that we don’t have to stop.”
“Think of all the money you’ll save,” I insist.
“I can’t reiterate enough that there’s never been a time when I needed eight avocados.”
“Pull over,” I demand.
“What do I get?” he asks, and my head jerks to his. Because what do I get? sounds sexual to me.
I raise a brow, letting my gaze drop to his crotch.
He coughs into his hand and turns off the road. “I get to choose the music on the way home.”
I guess it’s for the best that he answered his own question. I think I’d have had a very different answer. And based on the look in his eyes before he coughed…he had a different one too.