Page 12 of Simmer Down
As soon as my toes hit the sugary sand of Little Beach, every tense muscle in my feet and calves releases. I gaze up at the sun peeking above the horizon. One glimpse at the bright orange hue kissing the deep blue shoreline, and I’m as calm as the salty air around me. Eyes closed, I hum softly.
Thank heavens for last night’s surprise rainstorm that caused the local news to send out panicked warnings to tourists. Sharks are more likely to be out in the murky waters caused by lots of rain. The truth is that even with the rain and murky waters, attacks are still rare. But nothing clears a beach of tourists faster than warnings of possible shark sightings. I’m thankful for how deserted Little Beach is this morning. Including myself, there are only three people here. This is definitely a day where I’m not in the mood to deal with a horde of phone-toting tourists elbowing one another for selfies onmy way to the water. Even though we’re technically past the busy season of winter, when more than a million tourists come from all over to get away from the cold and snow, Maui is still a popular year-round vacation destination. Crowds are common almost everywhere.
I drop my towel on the sand and dive straight into the waves. A rush of lukewarm seawater engulfs me. I hold the air in my lungs until my chest aches. When I break the surface, I gasp, then dive back in. Again and again I repeat, floating underwater until I can’t hold my breath any longer, then bursting through the surface, screaming for more air. It’s agony and heaven all at once.
On this beach and under this water, no worldly worries exist. Just a fiery sun kissing the crystal-blue ocean and powdery soft sand tickling my toes. A row of gnarled trees surrounds this small strip of beach, marking the boundary of my heaven. In this moment, despite all the trouble it’s been to carve out an existence here, I’m thankful my parents picked Maui. Right now on this beach, in this water, against this sky, it is perfection.
A forty-something man with a killer tan and the body of a long-distance runner wades out of the water to his towel, giving me and the other swimmer at the opposite end of the shore a clear view of his naked rear end. Public nudity isn’t legal on Maui, but everyone looks the other way on Little Beach, one of the few beaches on the island where people routinely shed their clothes. People can swim, tan, and walk around naked. As long as they don’t make a fuss, no one bats an eye.
I tighten the strap of my navy deep-“V” one-piece. I’ve never been much of an exhibitionist, and I don’t ever plan on being one, but I love the “Who cares? Do what you want” mentality of this beach.
Another ten minutes of diving underwater and I’ve had my fill.I settle on my towel and gaze around me. The sun’s Day-Glo orange hue bathes every surface around me. Propping myself up on my elbows, I scan the beach behind my sunglasses. Still just me and the lone guy in the surf, still knocking out laps up and down the beach at a dizzying pace.
When he finally crawls out of the water and makes his way to the shoreline, my mouth falls open. This man is the phrase “holy hot damn” in human form. And he’s totally, completely nude.
Even standing twenty feet away from me, his hotness is as clear as the blue sky above. His tall form showcases loads of lean muscle everywhere. Biceps, shoulders, forearms, calves, quads. And abs. Oh dear Lord, those abs. In a soft whisper, I count them to myself. When I get to eight, I have to suppress a shiver, though inside I’m simmering with heat. I admit, I’m spoiled living on Maui. Six-pack sightings are an almost-everyday occurrence. Much of the population is fit and active, resulting in a higher than average number of hard bodies.
But this knockout has them all beat with his glorious eight-pack. If I were a pious woman, I’d run to the nearest church and offer a silent prayer of thanks for the visual.
My greedy eyes finally allow for a blink. I’m grateful the lenses on my sunglasses are reflective. If I weren’t shielded by these giant black orbs, my wide-eyed stare would be visible from outer space.
Halfway up the beach, he pauses to take a deep breath, bracing his hands on his thighs—and I’m treated to a crystal clear view of the goods. Air lodges in my throat before I let out a boom of a cough. I clamp my hand over my mouth, hoping he can’t hear me over the crashing waves.
I take it back.Thissight is something to thank the heavens for. This man, this marble statue brought to life, is also blessed with one hell of a package. Holy hot damn indeed.
With each step forward he takes, my heart races.Be cool, I silentlyorder to myself.Slowly turn your head away and stare straight ahead at the golden sand, at the perfect blue sea, at the radiant horizon ahead of you. Quit gawking like a perv!
From the direction he’s walking, he’s headed to Big Beach... which means he’ll have to walk right in front of me.
I divert my gaze to my toes, which are buried in the sand in front of me. I will not be that gross creeper who violates the unspoken code of conduct on Little Beach by staring too long. I breathe, close my eyes, and count to ten.
And when I look up, Mr. Hot Damn is standing right in front of me, his towel draped over his naughty bits.
When I focus on his face, I choke for real this time.
It’s Callum.
Chapter 4
Endless water droplets dot his gently tanned skin, making him glisten under the early-morning sunlight.
“You.” He sounds almost angry.
I wait for him to say more, but all that follows is silence.
“Um, yes,” I stammer. I sound like a confused child.
I scour my brain for anything else to say, but nothing else comes to me. All I can do is open and close my mouth a handful of times. All the while Callum’s laser-focused eyes drill invisible holes through me.
My body is on fire when I realize how creepy I must look in this moment. There Callum was, enjoying a predawn swim at a secluded beach, only to stumble upon his food truck nemesis eye-sexing him from just a few feet away. Judging by the angry wrinkle of his eyebrows, the way he refuses to break his scowl even to blink, the way he won’t even speak to me, he is not amused. He is not impressed. He is simply exasperated by the sight of me.
Jumping up, I grab my towel and jog away, tripping all the wayup and down the rocky hill to Big Beach. I run the distance back to my car and speed to the commercial kitchen to prep for the day’s lunch service. By the time I finish loading the truck, I’m still huffing every breath. My heart is still racing. My body still feels like it’s engulfed in flames.
Callum employed a genius new battle tactic this morning, and I bet he didn’t even realize it. Everything in me screams retreat, to drive my food truck into the ocean, just so I’ll never have to face him ever again. Somehow, I properly insert the key into the ignition and navigate myself all the way back to my spot on Makena Road without crashing.
I’m not so lucky the rest of the day though. Mom texts me a heartfelt thank-you after reading my apology note on the kitchen table, but I’m too flustered to form words, so all I send back is a thumbs-up emoji and a heart. When I open for lunch, I proceed to screw up the first several orders. And then I burn a half dozen dishes. Focus is impossible after an epic distraction like that.
It all counts as a victory for Callum. A few minutes in the presence of his flawless naked body, and I’m unnerved and scatterbrained for the foreseeable future. I can’t bear the thought of ever looking at him again, let alone speaking to him.
