Normally he’d be all over a meeting like this. He liked to understand the figures they were working with and what kind of responsibilities his people were signing him up for. But with everything else that was going on in his life, he kind of figured that WavePro was lucky he could still keep his game on the surfing.

Avalon had been up to something. The way her gaze flicked away when he’d asked what she’d been talking to Mako for . . . It had lying written all over it.

If they actually had a future, he’d have made something of it. Not let her duck and weave.

While he couldn’t deny they had a relationship anymore—and he wouldn’t want to, either—neither of them had discussed any sort of continuation.

Though he didn’t want to admit how much that bothered him. There was no reason to think why they couldn’t at least give it a shot. If the spread for WavePro did its job on Avalon’s behalf, there was every chance she’d soon be traveling the world as a SURFING photographer. Or under the employ of one of the bigger sponsors. There was no guarantee she’d follow the circuit, though. She could just as easily focus on the big-wave surfers and stick to the North Shore of Hawaii. Or follow free surfers to less traveled locales.

He thrummed a rhythm on the tabletop, chin propped in his other hand. The real problem was that Avalon had never shown any sign of wanting more than some orgasms from him.

At least he’d made sure they were freaking awesome comes. That should keep her around a little while longer.

Though her propensity to lie to him made him a little bit nervous.

Not much of a relationship foundation, as far as habits went.

He’d have to get the truth out of her.

Maybe he’d fuck it out of her. Get his hands all over that tidy little body, get his cock in her, watch her cheeks go red as she came all over him. He had to curl his hands over his mouth to hide the smile.

Good fucking times.

Pun intended.

“Tanner?” Mike Wolchoky, the brilliant man who made sure that Tanner’s money kept growing no matter how many surfboards he bought, waved a pencil in his direction. “Do you approve?”

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. A tiny bit of heat burned across his neck. Not embarrassment, though. He’d have to be caught at a lot worse than thinking dirty thoughts about Avalon to admit to being embarrassed.

More like disturbed to not be paying proper attention to the meeting.

He grunted as he shifted in his chair. Thankfully Edwin Timbersand sat to his right. Tanner lifted his eyebrows toward his manager. “Best choice for me?”

Ed nodded, then folded his hands over the files he’d brought along. “By far. Advantageous to WavePro too. We ought to get this locked down.”

The faith he had in his manager had always been worth it. Ed would explain everything afterward, once Tanner needed to know.

The man’s job was to keep Tanner’s head in the water, so he might as well let him work.

Tanner nodded, then spread his hands flat across the glossy surface of the table and levered up. “In that case, I’m going to leave you fine gentlemen to it.”

A quick round of farewells ended with Tanner standing alone in the foyer. He shoved his fists in his pockets while wondering where he needed to go.

What he wanted was an easy call: to see Avalon. Make her smile, make her laugh and relax. Then make her come, so her lips would part on a gasp in that special way they did.

But then, Avalon had lied to him. So his first stop would be figuring that tangled mess out.

And that didn’t sound near as good as making her come.

A tiny, pretty blonde sat behind the receptionist’s desk. She smiled at him even as her chest managed to raise another inch. Amazing, considering how far silicone had already artificially lifted ’em.

There was no way the girl surfed, not like Avalon.

She gestured back over her shoulder. “Don’t forget about the goodie room.”

As if he were some wet-behind-the-ears noob who’d never been to WavePro before. But he only nodded. “Thanks.”

Might as well do with a stop, anyway.

The size of a small office, the room was packed with shelves and Tupperware bins stocked with every goodie WavePro had ever made. And some, Tanner realized as he picked up a key chain/beer koozie combo, that had been made purely for promotion. Usually giveaways at the pro events.

Tanner wasn’t the only person in there, either.

A skinny-necked teenager crouched in the far corner, digging through a box of grips. Long, floppy brown hair fell in his eyes when he looked up at Tanner. He broke into one of the widest grins Tanner had ever seen as he bounded up.

“Yo, man, I can’t believe it’s you.” The kid was really all mouth, it seemed. If he smiled any bigger, the top of his head might pop off. “I knew there was a shot you’d be here, but I didn’t think it was that likely.”

Tanner stuck a hand out. The boy shook like a puppy—and he had the lanky, oversized paws of one too. He hadn’t fully grown into his body.

“Ethan Bells,” he said. “So stoked to meet you.”

Tanner couldn’t help but laugh. Hell, this was half of why he did it. Because he’d been that bright-eyed, enthusiastic kid once, and more than that, still remembered it as if it were yesterday.

“I think I’ve heard of you,” Tanner said. He had to scan way back in his memory, but it was there. He liked to keep an eye on the up-and-comers. “Junior Pro two years ago?”

“Yep, that was me.” There was no way it would have seemed possible, but his grin went even bigger at being acknowledged. “I qualified for next year’s world circuit.”

“Congrats, man.” Tanner leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. “That’s huge, you ought to be proud.”

“I totally am. My dad’s even more stoked. He’s meeting with all the bigwigs and all.”

“Your dad your manager?” Tanner remembered those days. His first year on the circuit. Having his dad at his side had felt like the right thing to do. That had been before he’d known the truth.

Ethan nodded. “They sent me down here to, like, get out of the way.” But his grin said he didn’t mind at all. He flashed a handful of gear. “I was looking for a new set of fins.”

“What ride are you gonna be on?”

But when Ethan told him, Tanner shook his head. He popped open a different box, held up a set of fins that were longer, with less hook at the tip. “No, you need these.”

“You think?” The kid had pale eyes, but he squinted a lot. Probably avoiding glasses or contacts since wearing them in the water became awkward. Probably didn’t help that his long hair was barely shy of tumbling into his eyes and he was constantly brushing it away. “I saw footage of your air in Indo. You were climbing with the long rakes.”

Tanner moved past him and went to a knee next to the trunk. “Nope. I’ve got three inches and forty pounds on you. You need different stuff.”

He paused for a moment, but then shrugged and tossed the grip back in the stack. The boy knelt beside Tanner, eagerly looking to him for advice. “Yeah? You think I can grab like you did?”

“Well, it depends.” Tanner rocked back on his heels, knees rising.

“On what?”

“Lot of factors, of course.”

That easily, they dropped into the back-and-forth. Ethan would go places—that much was for sure. He had the eager enthusiasm the circuit needed and the willingness to unbend and listen to outside opinions, which were invaluable. But at the same time, he didn’t agree blindly. He asked pointed questions about technique that Tanner sure as hell wouldn’t have thought to ask at his age.

Tanner liked this part. The little rush from knowing he was giving good guidance. The feeling that he’d done the right thing and let loose a little more knowledge in the world. Good stuff, every bit of it.

They ended up back in the lobby, still talking technique. Ethan had some vids of his surfing on his phone, so Tanner watched them to figure out if the kid was slipping on his back foot.

“No, right there,” he said, tapping the screen. “It’s actually your shoulders. You’re not twisting far enough.”

“Yeah, you think?”

He nodded. “Betcha anything. I tell you what, why don’t we meet up? After the Pro, though, if that’s cool.”

Shaggy dark hair wagged as Ethan nodded. “Sure, yeah. Wow, man. I thought all the old guys on the circuit would be rougher on me. Make me earn my place or something.”

Tanner winced at the implication he was washed up. In a way, he almost was. If he didn’t win the Pro, he’d be in a rough spot. It was entirely the reason Ed had maneuvered WavePro to today’s meeting. The money was in the bag. WavePro paid well, and Tanner had invested well. There was no chance he’d ever be hurting financially. But there would be face lost if he didn’t put together a World Championship win after being this damn close. His pride would take a beating.

And really, if he was going to be washed up at thirty-one, he might as well put the rest of his time to use.

Coaching was as good a use as any.

Hell, it sounded good. Damned good. A way to be out on the water and help out grommets at the same time.

Maybe he could work with that.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, grinning. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure there’ll be someone who tries to feed you to the sharks. Or snakes wave after wave off you.” He shrugged. “But it’s never really been my style.”

He liked the younger set. The best way to shape the future of surfing was by getting his hands on them.

They traded phone numbers; then Ethan’s dad came to collect him and Tanner was left alone in the lobby. He slipped his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels.