Page 2 of Hot Stuff

I stood at the edge of the water line. The cold waves washed up and away from my feet as I stared out. I loved the beach and water. I’d always loved it. Craved it. It was part of why I had been so good as a SEAL. I inhaled deeply, and the salty air filled my lungs, then I exhaled slowly. I’d wake up early and go surfing. I turned and headed back to the condo.

But not without stopping to pick up the ridiculously bright pink rock and slipping it into the front pocket of my cargo shorts.

Believe.

Maybe I needed to do a little more of that.

A little faith that I’d figure it out. That I would find where I belonged.

Karolina Rivas

“Karo, is that you?” my sister called out, and I rolled my eyes.

“Who else would it be?” I teased as I shut and locked the door behind me.

“I don’t know,” she said, her head turned to face me as she sat on the couch. “Maybe a tall, dark, and handsome guy with piercing blue eyes and big?—"

“Abby!” I laughed and shook my head because my sister had a flair for the dramatic.

“What? Hands! Big hands! What did you think I was going to say?” she asked, but the traviesa, mischievous gleam said otherwise.

“You’re terrible.” I laughed, kicking off my shoes at the door next to hers and headed to the kitchen.

“I don’t know about terrible. You’re the one with a dirty mind!” she teased, and I laughed. “But a girl can dream.” She shrugged. “I mean, how else am I going to meet someone?” She frowned and then winked.

My sister was a homebody through and through. She was two years older than me and hadn’t gone on a date for about five.

“You want to meet a burglar?” I laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” She winked. She stood, and I didn’t miss her wince. “Or maybe I need to lay off the stalker romances.” She smiled through the pain. My sister was a huge romance junkie. I chewed on my lip.

“Your back hurting?” I asked, knowing it was only going to piss her off. She shrugged without meeting my eyes but didn’t answer because we both knew it was. “You know what would help…” I started to suggest, but when her dark eyes met mine, I shut the hell up.

I knew that look.

“If you tell me to stretch or go for a swim, I’ll smack you.”

“I know,” I mumbled and then took a chance. “Maybe a hot bath? With some Epsom salts?” I recommended because I couldn’t help myself but immediately regretted it. The trepidation was clear in her gaze, but that wasn’t anything new.

My sister wasn’t a fan of water.

Not anymore.

Not that she had ever loved swimming or going to the ocean like I had. Where you couldn’t get me out of it since I’d been little, she’d always stayed on the beach with a book while sitting under a huge umbrella. But things changed dramatically six months ago after an accident had left her trapped inside her car in a ravine. Who could blame her?

“Want me to rub it?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” She smiled. “I’m fine. I promise. I just worked too long. There was a tough account, and I know better. I’ll work from the treadmill tomorrow.” This was her way of gently asking me to drop the subject. She was a bookkeeper for a couple of businesses in town and started working from home after her accident.

“Okay. Did you have dinner?”

“I did,” she shared, and relief hit my stomach. I hated cooking. I burned water while Abby could prepare a five-course meal without blinking. We were opposites in every way. “I left you a plate in the microwave.”

“You’re the best.” I grinned, and she shook her head. Abby headed over to the kitchen and leaned against the breakfast counter.

“Did you get new rocks painted?” she asked, and I nodded. “How many?”

“Two.” I shrugged. “This one.” I pulled a palm-sized smooth river rock out of my bag before pulling the strap over my shoulder and setting it on the counter. I handed it to her and watched her closely. I loved watching her reactions.

---