He sat next to me and smiled. “Still got what it takes, don’t I?”
“Still arrogant.”
“Hey, remember when you and I won that tandem contest in La Jolla?”
“I thought for sure that other couple had the better moves.”
He lifted his arms above his head and mimicked the roar of a crowd. “And the trophy goes to … Lola Cortes and Justice Hamilton!” He gave me one of his devastating grins, and I nearly melted into the ocean.
“That was a lot of years ago.” Before my addiction to chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. I vowed to clean up my diet and get into fighting shape.
He scooted his board toward me, touched my leg and an electric jolt shot through me. “I’m watching you surf. You’ve only gotten better.”
We caught a few more waves and then we were ready for the tandem board.
Tandem surfing is a sport where two surfers ride the same surfboard together. It’s kind of like Cirque du Soleil on a surfboard with all the fancy lifts and graceful maneuvers. Justice would be in charge of lifting me up and over his head. I’d be tasked with executing the various poses, everything from stances that would have my arms spread out like I was flying—to other moves where I’d be upside down and need to grab my ankles, my body shaped like a bow. When it worked, it was sheer magic—wind in your hair, the thrill of the ocean rushing underneath, the harmony with your partner.
We paddled the large tandem surfboard toward the lineup. I lay prone on the board with Justice behind me, and I felt the strength of his arms occasionally brush my butt, sending a delicious thrill up and down my spine. Concentrate Lola. You’re here to train, not get all hot for your ex. I knew I couldn’t trust him with my heart again.
We made it to the lineup and straddled the board. Cool water caressed our legs; a bed of seagrass swayed softly underneath us. Justice touched my thigh and whispered in my ear. “Do you trust me, Lola?”
Hell no, I don’t. “What’ve you got in mind?”
“Want to go for one of the advanced moves?”
“Right off the bat? Let’s start with the easy stuff.”
“Here’s the plan. We start with a couple of our easier moves just to see where we are; then we’ll go for a high-scoring one-arm statue. I know we’ll do great.”
A wave of happiness surged through me at the thought of performing the moves I’d loved so much as a teenager. Justice and I had dominated in tandem contests, and I felt confident. But nervous at the same time. Were we really going to get married? Yep, Lola. You are.
“Deal. How about we start with the fish?” I said. For that move, Justice would lift me toward his chest, grasping me around the waist and leg while I pointed one leg behind me and held one arm up in victory. It was relatively easy because he didn’t need to hoist me over his head.
He glanced over his shoulder for the next set of waves. “Let’s do it.” The peak rolled toward us. “Paddle hard. Here we go!” The wave picked us up, and I felt the magic I always experienced, the glory of being in the ocean riding the surf, all my senses alert. “Stand up.” I stood up as the ocean rushed underneath us, and Justice continued to issue commands. “Come closer. Okay. Got you.” In one glorious movement, Justice’s strong arms lifted me until my back was against his broad chest. He gripped my leg and waist while I bent one leg and pointed the other. One arm curled around his neck and the other pointed skyward. Justice laughed, and it was a happy sound. “We got it babe!”
The ride was sheer perfection as the water cascaded up around us and Justice’s breath huffed out. We ended our ride and hopped into the ocean. Justice held up his hand, his face flushed and happy. “High five!”
We slapped five, and for a second it looked like Justice was going to hug me. But he didn’t. He gave me a crooked smile. “Still got what it takes.”
“Don’t get too excited. That was the easy move.”
We paddled back out to the lineup, and after we’d ridden a few more spectacularly perfect waves, Justice convinced me to go for the one arm statue. For this higher-scoring move, Justice would lift me over his head, turn me around and grip one of my legs. I’d face away from shore, bend one leg, arch my back and spread my arms.
“Next wave’s ours,” he said. We paddled hard, the wave picked us up, and everything went so sensationally that I felt no one in the world could beat us. The wind whistled through my ears as Justice held my leg tightly and I became mesmerized with the feel of the ocean. Was I really here with Justice? Were we really getting married? It’s not real, Lola. Just focus on the surf and the win.
“Yeehaw!” Justice yelled as we reached the end of our ride. He slapped me another five, and this time he did hug me. His powerful arms encircled my body, and I drew in a sharp breath. He briefly kissed the top of my head and then held me by the shoulders. His eyes held the promise of the win, and I could see us raising that trophy high over our heads. As I gazed into his eyes, I became enraptured and finally forced myself to look away.
He scraped a hand through wet hair. “I’d say that’s a session.” His smile was so big, it looked like we’d won the lottery. He threw his arms in the air. “We’re gonna win!”
We exited the ocean and while I removed my wetsuit Justice watched me, the look in his eyes somewhere between mild interest and bewitched fascination. What was going on in his head? I barely knew Justice anymore.
“So …” he said. “Wedding’s tomorrow. What’re you doing tonight?”
I stopped, my wetsuit peeled down to the waist. I shrugged. “Tuesday night’s game night. Ginger and Bobbie come over. We order Chinese in and play board games.”
He clapped his hands together. “I’ll bring ice cream.”
“Who said you were invited?”
“What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Chocolate chip cookie dough.” I gave him the side eye. “Like I said, who said you were invited?”
“Humor me, will you? This’ll take the place of my bachelor party. I’ll bring enough ice cream to feed the block.”
I couldn’t say no. Not to chocolate chip cookie dough. “Suit yourself. And get the good kind. Ben and Jerry’s.”
Ten
Lola
“It’s a man! A hat! A hat made out of a dog?” I scrunched up my face and looked at the image Bobbie drew for our game of Pictionary. “What the heck is that?”
Ginger threw her arms in the air as the hourglass dropped the last few grains of sand. “Wolfman!”
Bobbie squealed delight and high-fived her aunt. “Yessss!”
I collapsed on the sofa and picked up my plate of egg foo yung, stuffing a satisfying bite into my mouth. “That is not a wolfman.” I picked up the artistic rendering. Bobbie had drawn a stick figure man with what looked like a dog sitting on top of his head. I wadded it up and threw it Bobbie’s way. “And you say you’re an artist?” I laughed. “Good thing you’ve got Photoshop.”
Bobbie stood up prancing to the fridge to refill her drink. “I get my point across don’t I?”
A knock rattled the door, and Bobbie raced to open it.
And there stood my soon-to-be fake husband looking handsome as all get out. Santa Maria! His luxurious mane was all mussed up from the motorcycle ride. Why did he have to have fuck-me hair? He stood tall, all six foot two of him, his shoulders broad, muscular arms straining at his shirt and when he smiled I knew I was in deep shit. One hand held his motorcycle helmet, the other a brown paper bag. He held out the bag. “Dessert.”
Ginger stood up while I kept to the safety of the sofa. “Come on in,” she gushed. Justice looked around at my bohemian style apartment with its many wild colors and twinkle lights hanging overhead.
“Wow. This place is something else.”
“Plenty of food left,” Ginger said. She held his arm and ushered him into the kitchen. “You like Chinese?” Justice said that he did and Ginger fixed him a plate.
Bobbie removed the ice cream from the bag. “Chocolate chip cookie dough! Your f
avorite, Lola.”
“That’s nice.” Was Justice really back in my life? Did he think he could just stroll in here and charm my friends? Evidently so. I picked up my plate and took another bite. And then another.
Ginger clapped her hands together. “So.” She eyed me and winked. “Bobbie and I were just getting ready to leave.” I tried to catch her eye but no dice. “Bobbie has a big test tomorrow and—”
“I do not,” Bobbie said.
Ginger narrowed her eyes at Bobbie. “Yes, you do. Now let’s go.”
Dexter jumped in my lap and I clutched him so hard that he let out a cry. “Don’t leave yet! Don’t you guys want ice cream?”
Ginger patted her butt. “I’m on a diet.”
“But I’m not.” Bobbie said.
“But you need to study,” Ginger said.
I glanced at the clock. “It’s still early. Hang out some.”
Ginger stood behind Justice, pointed at his back and mouthed, “He’s hot.”
I collapsed against the sofa with a weary sigh.
Bobbie pulled on Ginger’s sleeve. “I can study later.”
“Young lady, you need to get a good grade.”
Bobbie shrugged her shoulders. “Jeez. Okay.”
They made for the door, and Bobbie yelled over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”
And Justice and I were alone.
When he sat next to me on the sofa, I immediately got up and sauntered into the kitchen, tearing into the ice cream carton and heaping a few generous scoops into a bowl. I rejoined my ex in the living room and sat in the chair across from him, lifting my spoon. “Yum.”
He lifted his fork in a salute. “Good stuff,” and dug back into dinner. “So,” he said between mouthfuls of food. “How long you been friends with Ginger and Bobbie?”
I shoved another spoonful of the decadent treat into my mouth and nearly swooned. “They moved in about five years ago.” Right after you left, you idiot.
“How long you guys been doing game night?”
I swirled the cookie dough around my mouth and swallowed another tasty mouthful. Screw this. What was up with the small talk? Two could play at his game, and I was ready to take control.
We may have gotten along in the surf today, but now that we were out of the water I was thinking straight again.
Who did he think he was breezing into town and talking me into this fake marriage? I’d show him. I’d win the contest money, and after that, it would be sayonara.
I gave him my most bewitching smile. “Want to play?”
He jerked his head up from his plate. “Play what?”
I set my bowl down. “It’s game night.” I folded my legs underneath me and piled my long hair on top of my head. “How about a game of truth or dare?” His eyes registered surprise. “Without the dare.”
His smile was slow. “Why not spin the bottle or strip poker? You know, like we used to.”
“Ha ha.” I made a flipping motion with my hands. “You can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen. Truth or dare without the dare. Call it your bachelor party.”
He set his fork on his plate. “Okay, Lola. Game on. You go first.”
You just messed with the wrong ex, buster. I smiled and sat back in my chair, back straight, demeanor confident. “Ready? Here’s a softball. What’s your weirdest habit?”
He laughed so hard that a piece of fried rice landed on his arm and he quickly wiped it with his napkin. “I never tell my secrets.”
“You have to.”
His eyes went comically wide. “Well la-de-da. Lola wants my deep dark secrets.”
“Quit saying dumb junk like la-de-da and answer the question.”
“Okay. I like to take a shower with the lights off. At night.”
I wadded up a napkin and threw it at him. “That’s not weird.”
“What’d you expect me to say? That I shower with my socks on?” He grinned. “My turn.” His gaze strayed to the ceiling and then back to me. “Here’s an easy one. Can you touch your nose with your tongue?”
I curled my tongue till it hit my nose. “Yep.” I stuck my tongue out at Justice. “Happy?” He nodded, and I asked my next question. “Apple or Android?”
He reached into his pocket and extracted his flip phone placing it squarely on the coffee table. “Neither. Smartphones and freaking social media are nothing but a huge waste of time. I stick to the important stuff in life. Motorcycles, surfing, real relationships. Not a bunch of ‘likes.’”
And what’s your definition of real relationships? I wondered. But I kept my thoughts to myself.
He took another bite of chicken chow mien, washed it down with water. “My turn.” He looked me square in the eye. “What was your funniest first date?”
I collapsed against the chair thinking about the two times I’d actually dated Devin shortly after Justice left town.
What can I say? I was in a rebellious mood and going out with Mr. Creep-ola sounded just wild enough for an adolescent Dear Diary entry.
On the second date, Devin had pulled up to my house in a rented candy apple red Corvette. When I joined him in the car, he donned a Lone Ranger-style mask and said, “Come on Lola, it’ll be fun. You can pretend like I’m a superhero.”
I nearly spit out my ice cream in laughter as I told Justice about it. “I went out with a guy once who dressed like a superhero on a date.”
“No shit. You mean cape and all?”
“Nah. Just a Lone Ranger mask.”
He slapped his thigh. “If that don’t beat all.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, and it looked like Justice was warming up to my game.
“My turn.” I drummed my fingers against the side table. “How many first dates have you been on?”
He looked at his lap. “A few.” His blue eyes slowly met mine. “You want a number?”
“Ballpark it.”
His scratched his chin. “Let me think.” He counted all his fingers, and said, “Should I take off my shoes so I can count my toes?”
I leveled him with my gaze. “How many?”
“Shit, I don’t know. Twenty?”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Really?” I’d be lucky if I’d had five since Justice left me.
“Heck, I don’t know Lola.” He rubbed his jeans briskly. “Can I ask the next question?”
“Have at it lover boy.”
“What’s your idea of the perfect first date?”
I tapped my fingernails against the armrest and looked away. “Well. My date would pick me up in his chariot. Then we’d go surfing. Then we’d hike through the forest. You know, a real pretty place that smelled like pine trees, then we’d have a picnic, something with chocolate covered strawberries and ice cream. We’d end the day with an evening surf sesh. Surf’s always best right before the sun sets.”
Justice’s blue eyes danced with happiness and I almost convinced myself this was fun. “Next question’s mine,” I said. “If you were trapped on an island for three days what would you take with you?”
“That one’s easy.” He counted off on his fingers. “My surfboard, my motorcycle, and you.”
A flush of adrenaline tingled through my body. Me? No way was I going there. I stammered out my reply. “How would you ride your bike on an island? Say it only had sand.”
He held up a finger. “No fair. Next question’s mine.” Justice stared at me when he spoke, and I fell into his blue eyes. His voice was deep and sexy. “How was your first kiss?”
What?
I was supposed to be the one in control here. Not Justice. He knew damn well how my first kiss was because he’d been the one to make my knees buckle, my heart race. I crossed my arms, my voice tight. “Fine.”
“What kind of answer is that?” He leaned forward again, and I couldn’t help but stare at his sculpted biceps.
I let out a nervous laugh. “You know how it was. We were young and inexperienced.”
He made a face. “I tried to put my tongue in your mouth. Yo
u thought it was slimy.”
“I didn’t think that.”
“That’s what you said.”
“Yeah, guess I did.” How could I tell Justice that my first kiss was the one I judged every other kiss by? I couldn’t think straight with Justice in the room. Damn him. I took a deep breath and asked my next question. Screw the consequences. I was ready to get real here. “What’s your biggest fear in a relationship?”
Justice looked like I’d thrown a bucket of cold water in his face. “Fear?”
“Yes. Fear.”
He picked up his plate and busied himself, his head down. “That I … you know … wouldn’t be able to grow up and make a great life for my wife. That I’d somehow not be able to take care of her and then … hell, I don’t know Lola. That I’d die young and leave her alone with our babies.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s your biggest fear? I think your widow would get on without you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He rubbed his hands briskly against his jeans, looked away and then stared straight into my eye. “It’s that I wouldn’t be able to control myself, that I’d somehow get a wild hair, jump on my bike, and ride off.” He stammered. “You know, to explore and stuff. Have adventures.” He looked down and picked at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans. “Real relationships mean working side by side. What if I don’t know how to do that? What if I don’t have it in me to be a good partner?”
I immensely enjoyed watching Justice squirm. When he’d left six years ago, I was the idiota who’d done the squirming. Screw that. “Maybe you can and maybe you can’t. But what makes you think you can’t have adventures with your wife?”
He raised both hands in front of him. “Wait a sec. It’s my turn to ask a question.”
I made a gracious gesture with my hands. “Have at it.”
Riptide of Romance: A Fake Marriage Sports Romance (Pleasure Point Series) Page 7
