Chapter 9
SUMMER
It was the first time I’d breathed properly in days. Every morning I was on the beach looking for him. Not that I was looking for him because I wanted to see him. Just the opposite.
I hadn’t been sleeping. My brain felt like a hamster on a wheel.
What if I ran into him at the Salty Anchor?
What if he was on the beach when I went out for my morning session?
What if I turned a corner on Front Street and there he was, all gorgeous eyes and chiseled jaw and that stupid smile?
And those abs that had no business being as chiseled as they were.
I was a grown woman who had built a full and happy life in this town.
I had students who depended on me. I had a family that needed me.
I had a community that was facing something potentially devastating.
And my town was worth fighting for. But I was not my mother.
I didn’t have her courage. Her youngest daughter was a coward.
I was avoiding my own front porch because I was afraid of running into a man that still had a hold on me.
My old truck that had been ravaged by saltwater and bumpy roads was still reliable. It got me where I needed to go. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone with some fancy car. Besides, my board wouldn’t fit in a sedan.
This was my town. My beach. My ocean. My whole entire life was here.
His was in Texas or wherever men like Colt Anderson spent their time.
He was the one who should be keeping his head down and his eyes forward.
He was the one who should be aware of where he was and who he might be upsetting on any given morning. Not me.
I was not going to rearrange my life around his presence.
Which was exactly why I’d driven four miles down the coast road to a stretch of beach that almost nobody knew about.
I didn’t want to go out in front of the house because he might be there.
Another jog on the beach. I had noticed he liked to jog in the evenings, which meant I couldn’t go for a walk or go surfing on my beach.
I pulled the truck off onto the gravel shoulder where the road curved closest to the water and I cut the engine. The clouds on the horizon were pink, casting the whole scene in soft lighting. It was going to be a good one tonight.
I climbed out, pulled my board from the bed of the truck, and tucked it under my arm. The path down to the beach was worn into the scrubby grass by years of my own feet.
A couple was picking their way back up the path as I came down, shoes in their hands, the woman laughing at something the man had said. They smiled at me and nodded. I smiled back and kept moving.
I waded in, paddled out past the break, and sat up on my board. I studied the water, watching the swells. Nothing dramatic. Perfect for what I needed, which wasn’t anything technical. I didn’t need to push myself tonight. I just needed to be on the water. Alone. No noise. No pressure.
I caught the first wave without even trying, which made me sound cocky, but it was just a fact. My body knew what to do before my brain had to tell it anything. A whole childhood of getting knocked around and learning to read water was the best teacher.
I stretched out flat on my board, arms loose at my sides, face tipped up to the darkening sky. The board rocked gently. The water was still warm enough that I didn’t feel the cold. Not really.
My muscles unclenched. One by one, like a fist slowly opening. I could finally breathe. I practiced a deep breathing thing I learned while at a class with Capri forever ago. It was all about envisioning every muscle from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, clench and unclench.
I closed my eyes and focused on my scalp and moved down. I felt the tightness leave my brow, then my jaw. My shoulders and forearms. I exhaled slowly and let it all melt away.
My skin was starting to dry, the salt crystalizing on my arms, that familiar tightness across my cheeks and forehead that meant I was going to need to drink about a gallon of water and apply every moisturizer I owned.
Worth it. For the first time all week, I didn’t feel like I was bracing for something.
And then I heard someone clear their throat. My eyes popped open to see Colt sitting on his board about fifteen feet away, looking very smug.
“I should have known you’d still come here,” he said.
I sat up and stared at him. “It’s my spot. Of course I still come here.”
He looked exactly the way he had the first time I brought him here. Showed him my secret spot and introduced him to my friends. Colt had passed without trying too hard. People liked him. He was easy to like, especially when he showed humility on the board.
He’d been decent. Better than most beginners.
He had the athletic instincts and the body for it.
Strong and athletic. But he’d been stiff, which was about the only thing he’d been doing wrong.
I had spent a fair amount of time standing behind him on the sand talking him through it.
And maybe all the touching wasn’t entirely necessary, but it sure had been fun.
He got really good in no time. I was still better, but back then, he was better than a lot of the locals. I wondered if he’d kept it up or if this was his first time back on a board since he’d stopped coming to Surfside.
“I heard about Front Street,” I said.
He exhaled through his nose. “Yeah.”
“Seaweed and dog shit, from what I heard.”
“A lot of dog shit,” he said. “A truly impressive amount.” The corner of his mouth pulled up despite himself. “Whoever did it was committed. You have to respect the effort even while you were gagging.”
“Someone’s sending a message.”
“It wasn’t you, was it?” He glanced at me sideways, that slow look that used to give me butterflies.
I smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He looked at me, trying to find the truth. I did not have the energy or the collection of dog waste required for that kind of operation. But I was not going to tell him that. Let him wonder if it was me.
We floated in silence for a little while.
The water moved us gently. I had forgotten how comfortable silence could be with him.
That had always been one of the things that I appreciated the most. Most people filled quiet with noise.
Colt never did. He seemed to crave it. I knew his life in Texas was stressful.
His summers in Surfside were about relaxing, so I never hounded him with a bunch of questions.
“How’s your dad?” he asked.
“Good,” I said. “Really good, actually. Healthy. He’s in better shape than most men half his age.” I paused. “He moved out about a year ago. Got himself a condo over at that new place on Pelican Drive. It’s a fifty-five and over community.”
“He gave up the beach house?”
“Passed it to me and Becca.” I trailed my fingers through the water. “I think he was ready. New chapter kind of thing.” I smiled a little. “He’s been walking with a woman named Sheryl.”
Colt looked at me. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“He’s a good man,” Colt said quietly.
“The best one I know,” I said.
“You good with it?”
I appreciated that he asked. “I am.”
“Have you met her?”
“Not yet.”
“Becca?” he asked.
“Good. Happy.” I looked back at the shore. “Her kids are incredible. River is seven and already reading books that make my head hurt. Ocean is nine and exactly like my dad. Two peas, those two.” I paused. “They’re living with me at the house. It works.”
“She get divorced?”
“Yes. Things got bad. She called my dad. He rented a U-Haul and moved her out that day. He moved her into the beach house with him. And after about nine months, he moved into the condo and I moved in with Becca.”
“Is he still around?” Colt asked.
“Nope. I think he was relieved she left him. He was a shit husband and barely a father. He doesn’t have anything to do with the kids.”
“Asshole.”
“Yep.”
“What about you?” he finally asked. “You seeing anyone?”
I didn’t smile, but somewhere deep down I was doing a little fist pump. “No,” I said. “I like things just the way they are.”
I wasn’t going to tell him I hadn’t seriously dated anyone since he left four years ago. Bodhi was a casual boyfriend that only lasted a few months. That had been about me needing to feel like a normal person. Bodhi wasn’t Colt. No man had ever and would likely never measure up to him.
But he doesn’t have to know that.
“What about you?” I asked. “Is there a Mrs. Anderson back home?”
He grinned. “There are several Mrs. Andersons, but none of them are my wife.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m married to my work,” he replied. “Charlie got married a couple years back. He’s a dad now. The old farm is better for it.”
“Good for him.”
It wasn’t terrible spending time with him, but it was dangerous. I didn’t want to risk catching feelings for him. Not that I’d ever been cured of that particular affliction.
“I didn’t see a car up there,” I said.
“Walked and then floated,” he said.
“Wow. Ambitious.”
“I wasn’t sure I could find the place if I drove,” he said. “And my dad would kill me if I put a surfboard in his car.”
“I’m heading home,” I said.
We made our way to shore and climbed out of the water. I carried my board up to my truck and slid it in the back. Colt stood there watching me. I grabbed my joggers out of my bag and pulled them on.
When I turned, he was still watching me. I sighed. “Put it in.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Come again.”
I rolled my eyes. “Your board. Put your board in the back. We’re going to the same place, right?”
He grinned. “Yes.”
I should have made him walk. It built character. That was something Dad used to say to us all the time. I could feel the salt caked in my hair and on my skin.
I pulled out two bottles of water from the case I always kept on the floorboard. I handed one to him and twisted the cap on mine. I gulped down half the bottle.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Gotta stay hydrated.”
It was full dark and we were alone in a spot we had spent hours together.
Doing things I didn’t want to think about.
Not true. I wanted to think about those things but preferably when I was alone in my room.
I didn’t want him to know I was thinking about those times.
The kisses. Naked bodies sliding against each other.
That one time we went skinny dipping. More like naked surfing.
“Let’s go,” I snapped.
I got into the driver’s seat and started the truck. He climbed into the passenger seat and gave me a sideways look. I knew that look.
He remembered.