Wrecked (Sons of San Clemente Book 2) (20 page)

Yes
, he wanted to shout it out.

“Maybe.”

“You were always crazy about her.”

“Douse the romantic music. I haven’t proposed,” Kadan said, not looking at Lane either.

“You should have done that before you started falling apart.”

“Always did have bad timing.”

“She was the only woman I’ve ever seen you come unglued over.”

“Me?” Kadan turned in surprise. “Unglued?”

“Twice.” Lane shook his head, a smile played around his lips, but his eyes remained fixed on the ocean. “You got in two bar fights over that chick that required cops.”

“I never—” Kadan broke off.

But he had. More than twice. But that had been a long time ago, and the asshole had done more than cop a feel as Hollis had floated into the beach bar in Huntington Beach one night to meet him after he’d had several really good heats.

“You always had your eye on her. That’s how I knew she wasn’t like the others. You threw a guy through a window one time because you didn’t like the way he was staring at her when she was playing pool.”

Jesus. He hadn’t even been drinking when he’d done that. And he barely remembered doing it. He didn’t think of himself that way. He was always chill.

“The window was open.” Kadan tried to be nonchalant about it.

“And then you went all intense about her provocative behavior. I’m surprised she didn’t deck you, red hair and all. Posting it up or out, I think you called it. And then there were all the times you’d march out of a conversation or chat with sponsors to scare the crap out of some guy who was trying to talk to Hollis because you didn’t like the way he was looking at her or he was too hands on in his approach.”

Kadan frowned. “Why the hell are you bringing this up?” he demanded.

Hollis was the one who’d always been pissed about the way he behaved when they were out. Not him. He remembered her as always standing next to him for about five minutes before she’d drift away to play darts or pool or sit outside on the patio to sulk by herself or end up chatting with a whole different group of people, who had not been him.

“Only time I’ve seen you lose your cool with a woman is with her so I figure you should just propose now that you’re going to be old and grumpy and gimpy. Lame is not sexy.” Lane tipped the rest of the bottle down his throat, “Nor is it fast, so your chasing days are over. Might as well settle down.”

Kadan flipped him off. Lane laughed.

“Love sucks,” Lane said.

You’d know
. Kadan remembered more than one of Lane’s drunken rants about Luz’s betrayal, but like usual, Kadan kept his mouth shut.

Kadan watched Hollis walk towards him with a pitcher of margaritas. God, she had a great walk. Like a model, a stroll that rolled so gracefully through her hips while her upper body was so straight and still it was like she was floating, gliding through the air like her body was less dense than an average human’s.

“You boys having a nice chat?” she asked, pouring out two small glasses of the mixed drink and handing one to each of them.

“We were talking about the L word,” Lane said, waiting until Kadan took a drink.

Kadan choked and barely managed not to spew his drink.

“Lesbians?” Hollis asked. “Lesbians at the beach has a nice ring to it.” Hollis cocked her head, considering. “Or on the beach? That should be a cocktail, or is that a new computer game you’re considering?”

“I am now.” Lane stared at her. “You in?”

“In?”

“Shut up and back away,” Kadan told him.

Lane grinned. Took the margarita from her. He held it up to toast her.

“Told you,” he said. “L word.”

“Stop acting like a waitress and just leave them to get their own damn drinks. Sit here.” Kadan held out his hand.

“I’ll take the pitcher around, but think about it,” Lane said.

“Think about what?” Kadan and Hollis asked simultaneously.

Lane winked and shook his head.

“You”—he jerked his head at Kadan—“heard me. And you.” He stared meaningfully at Hollis. “Miss Finally-Home-For-Good-Where-You-Belong, I hope you are thinking about art work. I always need creative collaborators and storyboarders.”

Hollis stared at him. “I’m not an artist.”

“Spoken like an artist.”

“But I’m not,” she said sounding bewildered.

“Yeah, I know. Kadan has a Goddamn gallery in his home of your sketches.” He put air quotes around the word and rolled his eyes. “Framed and all, so I know all about how you aren’t an artist, but even as a non-artist, you have a style that screams across the room and a fierce flare for defining character with just a few strokes.”

“How much have you been drinking?” she demanded. “You’d better hand over your keys right now.”

“Show a little confidence,” Lane said. “Come see me when you’re bored of playing nurse. That is, if he’ll let you out of his sight.”

Hollis stared at Lane a long time, the pitcher of margaritas forgotten in her hand. He jumped up and rescued it as she started to tilt it.

“You’ve really seen some of my comics?” she asked. “I haven’t done anything since high school.”

Lane shook his head. “The whole world sees your designs every time Wave Shredder wipes out, which is often, in case you no longer follow the circuit. Fans see the bottom of his board shoot up above the waves way more than they see his killer eight pack, which is getting soft by the way. Cheers.”

“Dick.” Kadan grunted.

Hollis laughed and settled down next to him. “Did you really keep some of my drawings?”

“Maybe a few,”

“And framed them?”

“Might have done.”

He ran his hand over his stomach. “Am I getting soft?”

“Hardly.” Hollis stroked his through his shirt.

He felt his cock come instantly to life. He loved her mouth. Every time he looked at the pillow of her lips he wanted to thrust a body part inside her over and over again. God, he was obsessed with her body, but it was more than that. He just wanted to get close. Closer. Crawl into her skin and hold her tight forever.

“Kadan.” She breathed. “I don’t know what to even say right now.”

He handed her his glass and she took a sip before handing it back.

“We’ve been found out,” he said, surveying the crowd of about twenty people.

The grill had been lit. Someone was grilling fish and shrimp. Hollis had already tossed a large salad and skewered veggies to be added to the grill, but it was past eleven and her eyes were nearly too heavy to keep open.

“You really had some of my comics stenciled on your boards?” she demanded, not letting it go. “I never noticed, and I waxed a lot of boards for you.”

He stared out at the beach, at the crashing waves that were always louder at night, and Hollis thought, more ominous.

“I did it after you left,” he finally said. “The last time.”

“But you wanted me to leave,” she said, her voice a soft whisper.

Hell, he hadn’t wanted her to leave. It had been like having a limb ripped off. But he hadn’t been able to live with her either. She wouldn’t travel with him, but then would be sad that he was so often gone. She had avoided the big media social events, but then would be angry when he would go and be photographed with a lot of fans, many of them women. And always the questions about where he was, what he was doing while she’d been away at school. He’d never grilled her, but yeah, it beat him up that she was so unavailable, moving further and further away from him until he had nothing to hold on to.

How could he make this time different?

“It’s weird.” She drew circles on his chest. “I only felt connected to you when we were alone, but tonight I don’t feel so lost even though there are people here. I feel part of everything but also like we are on own little island.”

“A very crowded island. Do you think they’d notice if we went inside?” he asked, finally, his low voice teased her cheek.

“No,” she said softly. “But let’s stay here a bit.”

“Not what I had in mind for my evening.”

“Still...” She kissed his mouth.

He caught her hips and pulled her against him so she could feel what he really wanted to do.

“I love holding you like this.” He growled in her ear as his hands spanned her hips.

She nibbled along his jawline. “Behave,” she said. “We are playing host.”

“Not a game I want to play,” he whispered against her mouth. Hollis sighed and relaxed against him. His blood surged in hope. “A few steps, and we can lock everyone the hell out. They’ll be fine without us.”

“I was going to get you a shrimp and veggie skewer,” she said. “Keep your stamina up.”

“My stamina is fine, obviously.”

She grinned and he caught his breath. She looked so beautiful in the moonlight with a little bit of the yellow, orange glow from the beach fire pit dancing off her pale creamy skin.

“Trust me.” She stood up, ran her fingers through his hair. “You’ll need all that game you’re promising me later.”

“Promise?”

But she was gone. He watched her walk across the deck. She took a plate and scooped out some salad. He sat up. He should be happy. She was trying to mix with his friends. Playing hostess, not running off. Hollis had always been like water running through his fingers.

He picked up his crutches, but tried to put more weight on his boot like the physical therapist had suggested. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had just a couple of days ago, but that could be the tequila talking. Still, he’d never needed this much recoup time. He’d been playing it safe. Probably babying himself because he wanted to keep Hollis close. He couldn’t hobble around forever. Lane was probably right. He was getting soft.

He intended to make it across the deck to Hollis, but he should have known that would be a near impossible gambit. Three steps and he was surrounded. Questions about his accident, opinions about the storm that had hit Hawaii and was predicted to kick up some killer sets by tomorrow, and two Huntington Beach surfers barely in their twenties who were making a run for one of his records.

He usually enjoyed these nights. Talking smack. Eating local food, everyone bringing something. Tonight he was wishing that he’d had a little more time alone with Hollis. He continued to move towards the grill, but Hollis emerged from the line with a veggie skewer and a sweet potato and fish taco.

“Share?” He held out the taco so she took a bite from one end, and he finished it off.

“Now, let’s go inside.”

Like that was really going to happen. More people showed up. Friends. Sort of. And friends of friends. Kadan found himself caught up in conversations. He tried to keep Hollis at his side, but they kept getting interrupted, separated. He was pulled away into a new conversation and he would catch sight of her, chatting, a distant look on her face. Or she’d be bringing out another platter of veggie kebobs. Or salad. Or salsa. He could hear the whir of her blender.

And then she was gone. Off the deck. Kadan excused himself. Checked inside. No Hollis. Walked back on the deck. Her absence was a hole in his gut, empty, throbbing, icy.

“You seen Hollis?” He interrupted Zen.

“What?”

“Hollis.” He turned around and demanded of Lane.

Lane rolled his eyes. “Told you,” he said, then he jerked his head toward the beach. “Just a girl, huh?” He taunted. “She took a walk. Probably going for a swim.”

Kadan pivoted toward the ocean, just a surging expanse of black.

Shit, it was past midnight. The waves were choppy, the first push of the storm. Now he was the one getting panic attacks. He swung himself off the deck and hobbled towards the water. He saw her standing on the edge of the waves and he felt his heart rate kick down a notch. Until she pulled off her T-shirt and shimmied out of her cutoff shorts. She was so graceful; his eyes noticed that even as his brain screamed at him to run. But of course he couldn’t. She dropped her clothes in the sand.

White bikini. She glowed like a moon beam. Ethereal.

She seemed frozen, part of a painting. And then, squaring her shoulders as if facing a firing squad, she began to walk into the ocean. His yell was swallowed by the roar of the waves.

H
er teeth chattered compulsively and her breath was shallow. She could do this. She would not be ruled by fear anymore. Hollis closed her eyes and ducked under a wave. She could feel herself churned about, lifted and then dropped, and then instinct took over. She stretched out flat, allowed her limbs to unlock and then struck out in freestyle, arms and legs working synchronously. She turned her head to the side and breathed.

The moonlight on the black water was gorgeous and terrifying so she squeezed her eyes shut again and continued to swim out. She’d go parallel in a bit, but right now she just wanted to get some distance from the shore as if that were what she needed to escape in order to be reborn. Stronger. Resilient. Confident. A dreamer.

Fifty yards more, she told herself. And then she would roll over and back stroke parallel to the beach. She used to do that with Holland when they were kids. Race out and then swim parallel to the beach, allow the tide to bring them slowly back in. Once they’d been caught in a rip and they’d floated, allowing it to swing them around into another cove. She remembered that as long as they didn’t panic, eventually they’d get tossed out of it. So she’d sung pop songs and clung to Health’s hand.