Page 4 of Reckless Hearts

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m both those things,” he replies coyly, his eyes never leaving my body, and if my bikini bottoms weren’t already wet, they’d be soaked now.

“You’re cheeky,” I say, but my mind wanders to hooking up with this hot surfer with an Australian accent, and I’m trying to think of all the places we could go where my friends won’t see this play out.

I need this, a random hook up to get a release because some days my vibrator and internet porn just aren’t cutting it. And living with Daisy and Sloane doesn’t make it easy to bring home guys.

Sloane has never been cool with it, and I get why. All those years in foster care, our home is her safe space, and she doesn’t want the worry of some random guy in there. I respect that and her need to heal from all the shit she’s been through.

The last thing I want to do is ask this guy to take me back to his place. Who the hell knows where he’s staying, and that’s probably not the safest choice anyway.

And then it hits me.

Tanner’s boat, and Tanner is on Oahu right now, doing some location scouting for the possible expansion of The Pipe Dream. It’s something he’s doing to help out Nate and Sage while they both deal with things here on Maui.

Everyone’s busy.

And today is my morning off.

“You’re a fucking dream come true,” he murmurs, his words burying themselves deep inside me, wanting to see how far we can take this. “Want to catch a wave in and…” He doesn’t have to finish his sentence; I’m nodding already.

“And what?” I respond with a sly smile on my face. Even though I nodded at his comment, I want to see how far he’s willing to take this. If he’ll come right out and say what we’re both clearly thinking.

He seems bold, and I love guys like that. I need someone who can keep up with me, someone who doesn’t care about my loudness or my independent nature. It’s one of the things that Mitch always told me to hold onto, and to never let a guy take it from me. I live by that now.

“There’s a vibe here, is there not?” He looks at me, the question written all over his face. Wondering if he’s misread the situation.

“There is. And I hope it’s the kinda vibe where we end up without our clothes on.” Now it’s bold of me, and Flynn lets out a hearty chuckle. I feel his laugh roll through me, sending butterflies into my stomach. My eyes once again taking in his surfer’s body, a body I’m dying to explore.

“I like you. You’re no bullshit.”

He’s right. I am, and I intend to stay that way. Just like this hook up is about to be no bullshit too. I don’t want a relationship. I want hot, meaningless sex with some guy I found out here on the water. A guy who can surf the swell, who has an amazing cutback and a hot body to match.

He’s sitting right here in front of me, and if things play out like I hope, in a few minutes, we’ll be naked, and I’ll be coming on his face.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” I prompt, flicking my head toward the incoming wave, and Flynn hits me with a cocky grin.

“Let’s see whatyou’vegot,” he counters, motioning for me to go. “Ladies first.” His brows go up, waiting for me. And I know he’s probably going to underestimate me like most guys I encounter on the water do. He has no idea what he’s in for.

There’s a reason I was given the opportunity to compete as an amateur at Maui Pipe. I’m not just good. I’m fucking great. Mitch saw it when he was still alive, realizing I had way more talent than any surfer he’d ever seen, taking me under his wing and training me.

But all that went to shit when he died, and I haven’t been on a board in so long. I worry that I may have lost it.

My heartbeat kicks up. Today was supposed to be a quiet morning alone on the water. Not just for surfing but to also get my head on straight, to stop thinking about why I shouldn’t be surfing.

The competition is soon, only a few weeks away, and while I haven’t withdrawn, I’ve stopped training. I’ve shutdown, depressed and missing Mitch and all his support. Not feeling like I should be a part of something this big.

But here on the water with this guy, I swallow back my fears, flattening myself on my board, I watch for the wave, and when I see it, I do what I do best.

I close my eyes the moment I catch it. I feel like I’m floating, the memory of all the time I spent out on the water hitting me.

I miss it.

I miss surfing.

I miss Mitch.

I miss it all.

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