Lorelie Brown - Riding the Wave

Hell, it was already haunting her—but in the best possible way.

Halfway through their run this morning, she’d looked over at Tanner and seen a scratch on his knee. The very knees he’d been on while licking her.

She forced a smile. “I went for a walk. Sat on the beach for a while.”

“Oh really?” Tanner’s gaze flew to hers. His eyebrows lifted on a distinct air of challenge. And the smile that quirked his mouth looked decidedly smirky.

Naturally Sage didn’t miss a thing. She looked back and forth from Avalon to Tanner, her lips parting more and more on each go-round. “What’s going on here?”

Tanner smirked. No two ways about it. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over that thick chest. “Avalon said she walked, then she walked.”

The way Sage tilted her head sent the long sheaf of her ponytail spilling over her shoulder. Her small smile was at least related to her usual brightness. “Did you finally get some, Avalon? You’ve been a freaking nun since you moved back in here.”

Hot embarrassment burned across her cheeks. She wanted to plaster a strip of duct tape over Tanner’s smirk—which had only gotten bigger.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the nun type.” He was flat-out taunting her. No two ways about it.

Her mouth worked but sound refused to come out. She shook her head. Okay. There had to be a way out of this. But it was damned hard with the way Tanner was looking at her. Like he’d like to strip her naked and start all over again—except he’d be laughing against her skin the whole time.

She locked her knees together against the sudden throb of her body. That wasn’t a half-bad idea.

The cough she forced into her fist didn’t clear her throat. But it did afford her an opportunity to flip Tanner off. Childish, maybe. Still satisfying though. “No. Nothing special last night.”

At that, he choked back laughter. Thank God Sage was looking down at her nails, trying to pick foam out of them from making surfboards all morning, and missed it.

“You should hook up with Jack,” she said in a voice that sounded a little strained. Probably from trying to maintain a happy conversation under the weight of discovery about her father. But that was Sage. A peacemaker down to her toes. “He was asking about you.”

Tanner didn’t seem to like that at all. The smile slid right off his face.

Avalon stretched her legs out, pointing her toes in their pink, sparkly flip-flops. She sent a smirk of her own at Tanner. “Maybe I will. He’s not bad looking.”

“It’s the eyes, isn’t it?” Sage spoke down into her hands, still without looking up. “He’s got great eyes.”

“He does.” She was getting a hot rush of power off this; there were no two ways about it. After spending the whole morning feeling like she was only waiting for the other shoe to drop, she deserved it. “Maybe I’ll give him a call later.”

Except Tanner had apparently had enough. “That might be a little awkward. Especially if you call from my bed.”

The fact that Avalon was still annoyed with Tanner the next day didn’t surprise him. What freaked him out to hell and gone was how much it bothered him.

“You sure you don’t want me to smile and say cheese?” He knew it was the last thing in the world she wanted, but at least the question got a look from her.

The family surf shop wasn’t a huge venue, but an hour before the place opened, its emptiness took over. The long, narrow place smelled of surf wax, salt, and a hint of coconut. Racks and shelves were filled with everything water-related. Shorts, bikinis, flip-flops. The back quarter was devoted to Sage’s boards, a few demonstration pieces along the walls.

In the center of the room, toward the huge plate-glass window, sat the squared-off front counter. Tanner claimed a spot where the corner curved. His hand brushed the side of the register.

He couldn’t even count how many afternoons he’d spent working that register, counting out change to tourists. It hadn’t been his favorite activity.

Watching Avalon fling attitude around as she evaluated her cameras was almost enough to drown out the memories of a teenager affected with permanent wanderlust. The girl was certainly cute when she was annoyed.

With an impatient hand, she flicked her long bangs out of her eyes, then slanted him some decent side-eye. For all her irritation, she didn’t seem capable of exactly ignoring him either.

He hadn’t ever liked being ignored, so that was a definite win.

“You,” she said, wagging a long, black lens at him, “are an asshole.”

He grinned. “And you’re not very good at maintaining the silent treatment.”

“I wasn’t giving you the silent treatment. I was keeping my mouth closed until I had something nice to say. Your own mother taught me that.”

“Calling me an asshole is something nice?” Surprise lifted his brows. “I’m not sure I want to know what you’re holding back.”

She tucked lenses and cameras back into her bag with precise, sharp moves. Everything had a padded slot and little zippered compartments kept tiny pieces in order.

The slim T-shirt she wore rose up in the back as she bent to tuck her camera case beneath the counter. Her spine was a delicate curve, and her khaki shorts dipped enough to reveal the dimples at the base of her spine.

Tanner slipped off the counter, his feet slapping on the ground. He rested his hands behind himself on the counter. No matter how much he wanted to touch her, he couldn’t. Not yet.

He had no doubt he’d get back in her panties before too long. If it hadn’t been for a meeting he’d had with one of his sponsors, he’d have devoted his whole morning to Avalon.

God only knew she was a damned sight better time than practically everything else in his life.

Like the fact that his knees groaned in protest when he hopped off the counter. Old man. At thirty-one. It was beyond ridiculous.

But the five-mile run this morning had taken a lot out of him.

She stood up again, this time with the black camera curled protectively in her hands. The Canon, if he remembered right. She ran off a series of shots of him, ranging him in a half circle.

He ought to be used to it by now. The way she took photographs was something akin to breathing, like she couldn’t shut it off if she wanted to. He doubted that she even realized what she did half the time.

The tiny acts, one by one, built a huge shield. He wanted to pick it apart, piece by piece, until he knew what was underneath.

But he didn’t have the time.

He made himself rest his elbows on the counter, leaning backward. The smile he wore was his usual public-appearances look, and it did the job well enough to nail him plenty of sponsors. “Are you sure you want to stick around? I’m hanging out for a while. Not worth taking pictures of.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not missing this one for the world.” She wedged herself into the far corner of the counter, leaning on one elbow. He could reach out and touch her too damn easily. The soft cotton of her shirt would feel good under his fingers. “Big, bad Tanner Wright meeting and greeting? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not meeting and greeting.” Something hot burned across the back of his neck. “I’m hanging out in Mom’s surf shop for a while.”

Darkness flitted across her eyes. She ran a surprisingly gentle hand over the black Formica counter top. “Do you really think she’ll do it?”

“Sell the joint?” He couldn’t help another look around. Despite the changes in clothing and colors and light fixtures, the place was still pretty much the same as when he’d been in school.

He and his dad used to stop by before morning surf sessions to grab whatever last-minute items they needed. An extra pack of surf wax, a new pair of board shorts. Tanner had always liked the dimness, as if they were wandering through a partly make-believe world. But his dad had always immediately flipped on the lights.

Tanner shook his head. “It’s her choice.”

“No way. It’s more than that.” A mulish pout took over her mouth. He wanted to bite her bottom lip. “This is your family business.”

“What exactly are you implying?”

She turned her face down toward the digital display of her camera, but then looked at him from under the dark, thick fan of her lashes. He wondered what it would be like to feel them flutter against his skin. He coughed, as if that would have any effect on his half-awake cock.

“You could step in.” She clicked a button on her camera, but she couldn’t be paying attention to whatever it was. “Insist she keep it.”

“No way,” he said, but her words went somewhere down inside him and caught hold with wicked little nails. “That’s not my choice. I can’t make her do anything. And I can’t keep the store myself.”

Her mouth opened, but then she shut it on a little shake of her head. She slapped the counter lightly as she rounded it, heading toward the front window. “Come on. It’s time to open up shop.”

“That’s not your job anymore.” His hand flashed out, caught her by the elbow. “And it’s not what you were going to say.”

“You wouldn’t like it.” She ducked out of his grip. Camera dangling from one hand, the strap wound around her wrist, she keyed the alarm off the front door, then unlocked it. “And Krissy is still in back, putting the final touches on next week’s schedule. She’ll be out any second. Not sure we should start this now.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

But then she did the oddest thing. Stepped near him. Not exactly close enough for him to lean down and kiss her, but nearer than casual contact. The girl knew how to work a man when she felt like it.