Page 87 of Lochlan

I've been thinking about him for a while now. I think it's time to see where this goes before this fish swims in other waters. “That's exactly what I'm saying. Let's talk about planning a trip when I get back.”

He leans forward, capturing my hand, and I get a kiss. “I'm going to hold you to that,” he says.

* * *

The sun bakesour gleaming sun-screened bikini bodies. The glare of the sun is in our eyes, and we're facing a young, hungry team from Brazil. I've never played them before, but according to their stats, they're good, really good.

We've been holding our own, but it's been a struggle while we fight for every point. Our last drive had me diving for the ball, and sand flew as I skimmed the ground, giving a dramatic ending to the rally. We made the last point, so Livi and I high five and return to our places. I pull my visor down a little lower on my face, sand from my last dive still crusting the outer part of my hands. I adjust my dark glasses and get ready.

The crowd is as tense as we are, some even shouting encouragement to their favorites. The opposing team is better known, so I suppose the shouts are for them. I don't care; I tune everything out. It doesn't matter what they're screaming because all my concentration is on the next play.

We're the last game of the day. Both teams have won one, and we’re at the third game tied at match point for the win. I'm at the net, while Livi stands at the end line, preparing to serve. I give her a slight nod and she jumps, tosses the ball up, makes contact, smashes it, and sends the orb spinning over the net and we're in play.

The rally is going on way too long, while both teams try to find a spot on the opponent's side that's difficult to defend. It might seem like we're making split-second decisions as we scramble to be in place. For me, time slows as I traverse the sand. I'm more present here than any time in my life, watching the movements of a white ball that weighs a little over a half pound.

A spike comes over the net with such force I'm unable to block and it pops back onto our side, but Livi is there sliding into the sand, arms extended, and the ball rises enough for me to return it over the net.

The Brazilians are ready and easily spike the ball and get the kill. I hear the crowd cheer. I hug my partner, then we head to the other team to shake hands and hug. We leave the court as the winning team is talking to the local television group.

“Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?” I ask Livi.

She looks at me sideways as we walk back to the changing area. “Don't you want to go over what just happened?”

I shrug. “There's stuff we can work on. I saw Ralph filming our game. I'll get the video from him and we can go over it together, then plan some strategy. Tonight, I just want to relax.”

“I hear they're having a player's party; we can hang out there for a while.”

“A party sounds good.”

She adjusts her bag over her shoulder. “I gotta run a few errands. I'll meet you back at the motel.”

By the time I've showered and changed, few people are still around, players or the spectators. The motel is in walking distance. I step out onto the sidewalk into the stream of people and I'm hit by the aroma of food coming from beach bars and restaurants. I haven't eaten for a few hours and I don't think I can wait until dinner.

I duck into a bar that's sparsely populated, order a beer, and ask for their pub grub menu. Everyone is in a group or couples, so I find a table in the corner with my beer, absently people-watching, and I can't help it, I replay the game in my mind. I make some mental notes when I realize the beer is hitting me. I scan the menu and decide on coconut shrimp and flag down a waitress to place my order.

The smell of the sea and the jukebox playing oldies from the ’60s seems like home. I think every bar and restaurant owner is a Baby Boomer because that's all the music we ever hear. I don't care if the music is fifty years old; those tunes remind me of when my dad and I would come to the beach and enter tournaments.

I flag down a waitress, asking her for another round. I'm mellowing out, feeling a part of the noisy, happy beach crowd when I notice someone entering the bar. He's big, handsome, with a Scot's swagger and obviously looking for me. Fuck, how the hell did he find me?

CHAPTER37

TALK TO ME, BABY

KENZIE

Several pairs of eyes track his progressas he strides across the room until the man is standing at my table. “I know this is a cliché,” he says, looking down on me, “but is anyone sitting here?”

“As if anyone could stop you.” My sandaled foot shoves the wooden seat skittering towards him. His gaze rests on the chair that stops inches before him. His bulk neatly shifts into the chair that should be bigger, then summons a waitress. She arrives instantly and seems to be all too eager to take his order.

“Would you like another beer, lass?” he asks.

I drain the last of my beer and set it down. “Yes, please.”

He glances up at the beaming waitress. “We'll have a pitcher,” he says, and she scurries away to do his bidding.

“How did you find me?”

“Let's wait for the waitress to return before we discuss the finer points of my visit. How are you? You look well.”

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