Page 17 of Reckless Hearts

Matt chuckles. “Sure thing. You want me to hold off on both till she gets here?”

“Yeah, thanks, that would be great,” I tell him. “We’re gonna head out to Pe’ahi to surf after,” I say, not even sure why I’m telling this guy that.

Matt whistles. “She’s getting back into it, huh?”

“Training?” I ask, wondering if everyone I meet knows about Alana.

“Yeah,” Matt replies. “I know she stopped when Mitch died, even though we all thought she should continue. I get it’s hard, but fuck she has talent. That’s her by the way,” he adds, pointing to a framed cover of a very well-known surf magazine hanging on the wall of the truck.

“She made the cover ofSurfer?” I ask, unable to hide the shock in my words. I knew Alana was good, but fuck, that is next level good.

“Yep,” he says with a smile as he looks at the framed cover. “That’s her surfing the winning wave that got her into Maui Pipe.”

“Jesus,” I murmur.

Matt turns back to me. “It’s good she’s surfing Pe’ahi. It means she’s definitely still considering it. Are you like?—”

“I’m just surfing with her,” I quickly say, not wanting him or anyone to read too much into whatever this is that I’m doing with Alana. I don’t think he recognizes me, but I can’t be sure. He’s clearly a surfer too.

“Cool,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the counter. “Take a seat, and I’ll get you your food.”

“Thanks, man,” I say as I make my way over to one of the picnic tables.

While I wait for Alana, I spend the time Googling her on my phone, having seen her last name on the cover of that magazine. When the search results load, my eyes widen at all the hits, my heart pounding when I see the profile they ran on her in the magazine, the author calling her “the freshest new talent he’d seen in years.”

How the fuck have I not heard of her before now?

I read through the article, sucking in as much information as possible on this woman I can’t seem to stop thinking about.

“Still stalking me, huh?”

My head whips up to find Alana standing beside me, reading over my shoulder, a smile on her face. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were this good?” I blurt out. “I mean, I knew you were, but shit, you made the cover ofSurfermagazine and this profile they did, it’s…it’s…”

“It’s whatever,” Alana says, waving it away.

I stand from the table, turning to face her. “It’s not whatever, Alana,” I say quietly. “This is big. You are?—”

“Hungry!” she says, tipping her head toward the van. “Shall we?”

I blink at her seeming modesty at all of her achievements as we make our way over to where Matt is holding two boxes of food. Alana thanks him, throwing me a quick glance when he tells her I’ve already paid for it before we head back to the table to eat.

“So,” she starts, as she stabs her fork into her food. “What have you been up to this morning?”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head a little. “Not much except for spending the last twenty minutes trying to come up with a way to convince you to surf the Maui Pipe,” I say, meeting her gaze across the table. “Seriously, Alana, youhaveto do this.”

She holds my gaze, a small smile on her face as she watches me. Eventually, she grabs another forkful of food before saying, “You seem really invested in this now.”

“Ah, yeah, I kinda am,” I say with a laugh. “And apparently I’m not the only one,” I add, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at the food van. Alana shrugs, not saying anything as she takes another mouthful of food. “What are you afraid of?” I finally ask, still watching her.

She rests her fork in her food, grabbing her water and taking a mouthful. Eventually, she looks at me, shrugging as she says, “I don’t know.”

I shake my head, not believing that for a second. “I think you do,” I tell her, my words soft.

She blows out a breath, her gaze turning to the ocean across the street. “I’m afraid of letting everyone down,” she says, her voice quiet. “Of failing and just being this huge disappointment.”

I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. I don’t miss the electricity that seems to crackle between us the second our fingers touch and from the way her eyes snap back to mine, I don’t think she does either.

“I get that,” I whisper, knowing all too well what failure feels like. “But I don’t think you’re going to.”

---