Page 18 of Reckless Hearts

Alana scoffs, offering me a small smile as she says, “You’ve seen me surf, like, what, two waves?”

I smile, laughing a little. “Sure, but I’ve also been Google stalking you for the past twenty minutes, so I’m pretty sure what I did see was an accurate representation,” I say, squeezing herfingers. “You have real talent, Alana, and even if you don’t do as well as you hope, that’s not failing, not even fucking close.”

She swallows hard, her gaze locked with mine again as we stare at each other across this old wooden table. I want to beg her to compete, tell her I will do anything I can to help her, even if I know that is impossible.

She isn’t mine to coach, and more than that, I already coach someone. A competitor, no less, who would absolutely kick my arse if she found out about any of this.

“Well,” she eventually says, smiling at me. “I guess we better finish our lunch so I can start training.”

With a grin, I can’t resist lifting our joined hands to my mouth, biting her knuckles gently before pressing a soft kiss to them. “I guess we better,” I say, laughing as she blushes.

“What you think of it?” she asks, tipping her chin at my food. “This was Mitch’s favorite place.”

I smile at the mention of her coach as I stab my fork into the dish before shoving a mouthful of food in. My eyes close as my taste buds explode at how good it is, a low groan of appreciation falling from my mouth.

“Holy fuck, these are some good prawns,” I say.

Alana laughs, shaking her head at me as she says, “We call them shrimp over here, Aussie.”

After lunch, I follow Alana the short distance to Pe’ahi, pulling into park beside her. We get out and both strip down to our swimmers, Alana reaching for a rashie from the back seat. Before she pulls it on, though, I grab her by the hips, pulling her close.

“Hi,” I whisper, dropping a quick kiss on her mouth.

She smiles, her hands resting on my chest as she looks up at me. “Hi.”

My grip on her hips tightens a little as I pull her closer. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Alana laughs, looping her arms around my neck. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, brow narrowed in confusion.

“To get laid again,” she says with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure it’s a given at this point.”

“Hmmm,” I murmur, my arms wrapping around her waist now as I hold her close. “I’m not trying to do anything, Alana,” I whisper. “You do look beautiful.”

“Do you really just say this stuff to people?” she asks, still laughing.

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “I just say it to you because it’s true.”

“Hmmm,” she says, smirking up at me again, like she doesn’t believe me.

Chuckling, I squeeze her waist as I drop my mouth so it’s hovering above hers. “I’m serious. You’re fucking gorgeous, Alana, and I like hanging out with you, notjusthaving sex with you, okay? And I really can’t wait to see you out there on your board.”

Her smirk morphs into a smile now as something flashes on her face. “I like hanging out with you too, Flynn.”

My smile widens. “Well, in that case, shall we?”

We surf for a couple of hours, and my initial impression of Alana isn’t just right, it’s completely blown out of the water. She isfucking fearless when it comes to surfing, and that, combined with her natural talent, makes her a powerhouse on the waves. These waves, especially.

She looks like a pro, and honestly, I’d put money on her kicking arse at Maui Pipe and becoming one. Sponsors will be lining up to sign her, and she’ll have her pick of anyone and everyone, new coaches included.

“You look good out there,” I say, as we both tuck our boards under our arms and make our way up the beach.

She smiles, her cheeks flushing slightly as she turns to me. “You look pretty good out there too,” she says.

I smile back, knowing this is the perfect moment for me to tell her about me, about my past, and who I am, but I just can’t get the fucking words out. As shitty as it is, there’s a part of me that likes that Alana doesn’t know who I am, that she doesn’t know about my past and the accident that seems to fucking define me.

She talks about not wanting to feel like a failure or let everyone down, and that’s something I get because that’s exactly what I did and what I still feel now. And I just don’t want her to see me like that. So even though I know it’s a dick move, I don’t respond to her compliment and instead, change the subject.

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