Page 10 of California Waves

“I appreciate it.” He grinned at her again, and she felt as though she’d won the lottery getting that smile.

And then, unable to stop herself, she said, “You know you’re really missing out by not learning to surf. We only begin in the shallowest water. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

He shook his head and, all of a sudden, seemed to withdraw into himself. Politely, he said, “Thank you, but I cannot imagine myself on a surfboard.”

His response was stiff and formal, nothing like the ease with which they’d been talking before. She cursed herself. Here she was all mad at Jay for pushing in and overwhelming Hersch, and then she went and did the very same thing. She promised herself she’d keep cool about it and not keep pushing him. But even as she made the promise, she knew it would be hard to keep. She liked things to go her way. If he could just get comfortable on a surfboard in shallow water, he could begin getting over his trauma. She knew that because she’d done it herself.

Right now, however, his whole body was saying, No, no, and no. So she swiftly transitioned back to their conversation about real estate and said, “I’ll head into the office for a couple of hours before I start teaching this afternoon. I’ll see what I can find for you.”

“I really appreciate that. That fellow Jay wasn’t wrong.”

How annoying to owe Jay one. She stood, and Hersch rose at the same time. She lifted her nearly empty paper cup. “Thanks for the coffee. It was perfect.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll let you know if I find anything this afternoon.”

Chapter Five

By the time Hersch got back to his hotel room, he was already beating himself up. Why, of all the Realtors in Carmel-by-the-Sea, had he insisted on choosing Mila Davenport? Was it because she was beautiful? Which she undoubtedly was. He’d felt the connection with her before they’d even met in the moment he’d first set eyes on that painting of her fearlessly riding a wave as though she were some kind of water goddess. When he’d turned and found himself facing the woman herself, he’d been as close to speechless as he’d ever been. She was even more beautiful in real life.

Even through the ordeal of having his own life story pitched to him by some hotshot Hollywood agent, he’d felt that she understood and supported him. He felt a connection that was much more intense and deep than a simple physical spark, though of course he’d be kidding himself if he denied that the attraction was there. It was more like an explosion inside him than a spark. Yes, it overrode even that intense attraction—a meeting of two souls that had much to offer each other.

He’d already decided to hire a local real estate professional when she’d given him her card. It struck him as a happy coincidence, a sign maybe, that moving to Carmel was the right thing to do. He’d had his doubts about buying property in this gorgeous but beachy town. But when a Realtor landed at his feet, he’d be a fool not to follow his instincts.

And it wasn’t just about Mila’s pretty face, rocking-hot body, and that unspoken connection. He was a scientist—he trusted statistics. So when he’d decided to go ahead with purchasing in Carmel, his thorough research told him that Mila Davenport was one of the top salespeople in the area. And when Jay phoned him, he’d confirmed she was one of the best. In fact, Jay had told him he was thinking of buying in Carmel as well, and that Mila was the Realtor he’d choose. So, Hersch had decided to go ahead with the woman he’d wanted to hire when she’d first presented him with her card.

However, he hadn’t exactly gone about acting on that decision in the most straightforward way. He hadn’t emailed her or phoned her like a normal person would. No, instead he’d gone down to the beach, to the very edge of the water that had nearly sucked him under forever, and watched her ride those waves with the fearlessness and grace he’d admired in her portrait. Watching her in real time, he’d seen something magical about the way she danced on the waves. He’d felt a yearning deep within him. Almost a pull, as though something was encouraging him to wade out into the water just to be with her—even as the very thought of doing that made him break out in a sweat.

The scientist in him tried to investigate his own motives and accept that maybe her being a water goddess was part of her attraction. He had a feeling that there were a lot of people who could find him a house he would want to buy, but not so many who would challenge him in the way she did. Because he had to get over his fear of water, or he was never going on another mission to space. The thought chilled him to his very core. Being an astronaut was his whole life. He couldn’t imagine another way of living.

Herschel Greenfield had never faced a challenge he couldn’t rise to. He was famous for it. He was single-minded in getting around every obstacle put in his way. And there had been many. How else had he gone from being one of the millions of kids in the world who dreamed of being an astronaut to finding himself one day up in space looking down on that gorgeous, glowing blue and white planet? No matter how big or how small, when he set his mind on a goal, he didn’t rest until he’d achieved it. When he’d decided to bake his mom a birthday cake in space and sing her “Happy Birthday,” he’d figured out a way to do that, even when it had seemed an impossibility. Was he really going to give up the career he’d spent his life preparing for, the career he loved, because he was scared of water?

Even the thought made him feel ashamed.

He went to the window of his hotel room and looked out to where the ocean teased him, still looking gray and hardly postcard beautiful, but alluring all the same. Each rising wave appeared to him as a challenge. He stood there, looking at the surf that seemed to tease him, and said aloud, “I’m going to give myself this week, and then I’m going to make myself get there.”

He wasn’t even sure what his words meant. Get there? Get where? Did he think he was going to be swimming in a week? Or would his aim be to put his big toe in the water?

Even the thought had his heart pounding and panic rising in his chest. However, he’d always been a natural athlete, which had helped him pass with flying colors all those excruciating physical tests required of astronauts. It wasn’t difficult to imagine himself on a surfboard. He was fairly certain he had the stamina and ability and muscle strength to do it. His balance was excellent too. He could even walk a tightrope.

The picture formed in his head, and it stuck there. Mila, as he’d seen her that morning, riding so proudly, standing so gracefully, knees bent, hair streaming back in the wind. And himself, beside her on his own board. Maybe he wouldn’t ride with her confidence and style—she was a former professional, after all—but one day he might stand on a surfboard and ride a wave.

No, one day he would stand on a surfboard and ride a wave. He had a long way to go to get there, but he would start small. One baby step at a time.

Mila Davenport looked like she ruled the waves. If anyone could help him get back out there, it was she. Besides, if she were next to him, watching his progress, he’d be doubly determined to overcome his fear. He wanted, he realized, to impress her.

But did he still have it in him to impress a woman like Mila? One year had passed since he’d nearly drowned. It didn’t seem like so much as a minute had gone by when he pictured the disaster that had nearly cost him and his crew their lives. The whole scene was still vivid, raw in its intensity. He’d lived with this terrible fear for a year. Now it was time to suck it up and move on.

With nothing better to do, he pulled up the online real estate listings for Carmel Heights. Yes, Mila had said she would take a look at what was available, but again his nature as a researcher and a scientist meant that he couldn’t hand control over to someone completely. He needed to know as much as he could before going into a new situation. She said she was good, Jay Malone had said she was good, and the reviews on her website were of happy clients who sang her praises, but Hersch knew himself well enough to know he’d be making his own assessment of her skills and ability.

He flipped through the listings, and while he was pleased at the lack of ocean views and the amount of land the properties offered, nothing appealed to him strongly. He was looking for the wow factor, like he did with everything else in his life. He just wasn’t the kind of person to accept something ordinary. Unless it was an ocean swim.

Clicking off the real estate listings, he checked his email. Amazingly, there was one from Jay Malone. Subject line: Love to chat more about our movie project.

How had the agent even found his email address? He opened the email with some trepidation, wondering why the heck a top Hollywood agent had nothing better to do with his time than hassle a burned-out astronaut. Worst of all, the word no seemed to mean nothing at all to Jay Malone. Clearly, this was a man who never gave up. And then Hersch smiled to himself wryly. Maybe he of all people could forgive Jay this trait.

The email was simple. A line of pleasantries and then straight to the hard sell. Jay had loved their meeting and was beyond excited to talk more.

Hersch couldn’t imagine anything to be less excited about. Jay signed off with a final, pushy reminder to get back in touch ASAP. He shook his head. It took less than a second to decide to ignore the email. And then suddenly, he couldn’t stand his hotel suite another minute.

He needed to get out of his head and move his body.

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