Page 23 of Whispers on the Water

She shifts her board to face mine and kicks her legs until they’re touching my surfboard, her gaze hopeful. Too hopeful. I’m starting to think this woman is a gossip addict. “I really don’t think I should tell you now.”

“Greg, please!” She’s begging now, her delicious voice making it all the more challenging to hold back.

The plea and the way my name sounded coming from her stirred something deep within me. But I hold firm, a playful smirk on my lips. “No way, lady. You ask her.”

Without warning, Sam leaps into the water and then hops onto my surfboard. Mine sways under our combined weight. She positions herself in front of me, legs dangling on either side, careful to keep her movements calm. I know what she’s doing, leaning forward, letting her breasts press together. And I hate myself for it, but it’s completely working.

“What’d she say, Greg?” Her voice softens and becomes sultrier, stoking the heat in my stomach.

I resist the urge to yank her over and kiss the shit out of her. Yes. Kiss the shit out of her. Don’t ask why but it makes complete sense. I want to kiss this woman shitless.

Instead, I shift to lie on my stomach at the back of the board to accommodate her added weight and start paddling toward an upcoming wave. “Move your hands, woman!” I called out. She laughs and spins around. In one swift move, her knees are tucked up onto the board, and she leans down to scoop at the water. It’s presenting a view I force myself to look away from. Her perfect heart-shaped ass is inches away from my face, and I’m the idiot staring at a bird flying overhead.

As the board gains momentum from the wave, I pop to my feet while Sam stays on her belly. Through her laughter, I feel her leaning to the side to throw me off balance as her own board, tethered by the leash, bobs in the water behind us.

Eventually, I fall, crashing into the foam with a splash. Surfacing, I see her right in front of me, her head covered in white bubbles.

“You make wipe outs look good,” she says. When I reach out to grab her, she swims away. “Come on, you kook, lunch is on Tommy,” she calls over her shoulder. Back on her own board, she paddles into the next wave, and rides it to shore. And as she goes, mermaid-style, I’m left me drowning in more ways than one. I watch her the entire time. Why oh why, tease me like that my beautiful, Sam? Now I’ll have to tuck my boner in these stupid little shorts like a teenager at a pool party.

Deciding to visit the surf shop that morning had been a struggle. The sleepless night, spent wrestling with my thoughts about the altercation at the club and what to do next, had left me restless. Yet, the pull towards her was something I couldn’t deny.

Despite what my job might expect of me, I find myself unable to proceed with my investigation. The more time I spend with her, the more convinced I become. Sam is not a murderer. For now, my new mission is to learn as much as I can about this woman who rides the waves with such effortless grace.

Chapter fifteen

Sam

Later that week, I’m getting ready for a date. Much to Tilly’s dismay, Greg invited me for a dinner cruise tonight. Since our surf session, we’ve been talking, but not in person. Mostly, at Tilly’s insistence, we’re taking things slow.

As I’m lost in thoughts of dresses and what makeup to wear, Tilly drags herself in, collapsing onto the couch with a dramatic flair that only she can pull off. “I should have been a nun,” she declares, sounding utterly defeated as she picks up a pillow and smooshes it over her own face. “If I have to swat one more hand away from my ass…”

I pause, a bit puzzled by her tone. “Since when do you not like attention from men?”

She just groans into the pillow with a picture of my face on it, a birthday gift that has amused us far too often. Curiosity getting the better of me, I walk over and gently pull the cushion away from her face. “Seriously, what’s going on?” I press, needing to understand her sudden shift.

Tilly sits up, her hair a mess, and looks at me with a sort of resignation. “You remember our first night hanging out?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?” I admit. It was one of my first nights in Jaco after attempting college. Slunk in a corner of a dingy bar, Tilly had pulled me to the dance floor saying I was bumming her out.

“Well, it was then I realized I was hiding away. Trying not to let anyone close. When I saw you pouting off to the side, it was like looking in a mirror. Seeing so much of what I was feeling on your face…it was eye opening. I knew I needed a big change, to let myself have relationships, set down some roots finally.”

I had heard this all before, but let my friend keep talking. She obviously had something big on her mind. “I’ve had another epiphany like that, and I can’t…” she let out a long huff. “It’s not as easy to change things this time around.”

The subtext is clear; she’s hinting at something big, likely about Tommy, but time is slipping away, and Greg is waiting. “I need to go, but stay up? We can talk all night,” I offer, hoping she knows I’m here for her, no matter what.

“I kinda figured you’d be staying at Greg’s place.” The addition of her wiggling eyebrows is so juvenile I throw the pillow at her.

“You told me to take things slower, actually get to know more than his dick,” I say, and her laughter fills the room, easing some of the tension. “And at this pace, I’ll know the history of Kazakhstan before we get to second base.” I mumbled it out but Tilly slaps my shoulder.

“It’s been four days, Sam.”

I scoff and fling my hands up. “Yeah, around him that’s like being on a no carb diet and walking into a bakery every day. You can’t just leave a sexy slice of cake around me and expect no nibbles!”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t disagree. “Want me to…?” she offers, motioning towards my neck, where my tattoo is. I nod, grateful for her help.

As she works on concealing the ink, she sighs. “Covering this up is stupid. It’s so pretty. Why do it?” I spin around and let my hair fall over my shoulders, looking down at the dress I snuck from Tilly’s closet.

“I don’t like the reminder,” I admit. There’s a snappiness to my tone, but I don’t apologize. It’s not a topic I’m willing to discuss, not with Tilly, and not right now. “Seriously though, wait up, and we’ll talk. Okay?” She nods and gives a fake sob. “Oh my god, what now?”

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