One and Done

by Melynda Price

  “Well, Cyprus is called the Island of Love because it’s known in Greek mythology as the birthplace of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love. This pool is called the Baths of Aphrodite. Legend says this is where the goddess would meet with her lover Adonis.”

  She turned to look behind her, taking in the view. “I can certainly see why. This place is so… I don’t know, but there’s something almost magical about it.”

  He chuckled. “Personally, I’d love to try surfing that waterfall.”

  Autumn laughed, craning her head a little farther to follow his gaze to the twenty-foot drop. “You’d break your neck.”

  “I’ve surfed waves taller than that before.” He wasn’t sure why he said that or what part of his egocentric male pride felt the need to impress her, but apparently it wasn’t done because he added, “A good wave will top out over forty feet.”

  “Are you kidding? That sounds dangerous.”

  He nodded. “It can be. I lost one of my best friends to a maverick last year.” The loss was still a fresh wound. At the mention of Robbie, grief reached up and gripped his heart. If he’d only listened to Balen and not gone out to the point. If Balen had only swum faster, he might have reached his friend in time. If only…

  Autumn laid her hand on his and gave it a gentle squeeze, pulling his thoughts from that day and back into the present. “I’m sorry, Balen.”

  Her sincerity touched him, and it was surprisingly comforting. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. He never talked about that day, about Robbie, or what happened beneath those tumultuous waves, so why was he bringing it up now? Best not to give it too much thought.

  “What’s a maverick?”

  Hearing her ask that question was a reality check of how different their worlds were. “It’s a place in Northern California off the shore of Pillar Point Harbor. There’s a twelve-week window during the winter months where the waves are record breaking. We call them mavericks. The last few have been El Niño years and the surfing has been some of the best I’ve ever seen. People come from all over the world to surf those waves.”

  “How long have you been surfing?”

  “I started when I was ten, so fifteen years.”

  “Have you had any close calls yourself?”

  He shrugged. “A few. I think groms are more dangerous than the waves, though.”

  She smiled at the name. “What’s a grom?”

  “That’s what we call an inexperienced surfer. I had some guy snake my wave last year and slam into me. We both went down and once a maverick gets ahold of you, it doesn’t want to let go. He almost drowned, and so did two other guys trying to rescue him. It was the closest I ever came to it myself. Some people have no business getting out on those waves, but you can’t tell ‘em. Everybody’s looking for that next high.”

  She watched him intently, occasionally taking a sip of her wine. “Is that why you do it? Are you an adrenaline junkie, Balen Kroft?”

  He laughed. “Nah. It’s a rush, I’m not going to lie. But surfing…it’s about so much more than that for me.”

  “Like what?” She shifted the blanket, scooting a little closer, her focus solely fixed on him, but not in a star-struck fangirl way. She was genuinely interested in understanding him, like she cared about what he had to say. He didn’t have these kinds of conversation with women. They were more interested in hearing how many championships he’d won, or discovering if the rumors about the size of his cock were true, than caring to get to know the real him.

  “For me, surfing is like touching the hand of God. It’s becoming a part of something so much bigger than yourself—mastering something you have no control over. It’s about discipline, endurance, and patience. The tides are like this living, breathing force that can carry you or crush you. The ocean is an untamable beast. It’s always had a hold on me that I can’t begin to describe.”

  “You’re not scared you’ll die?”

  He could see her trying to understand this obsession, and he supposed for someone who hated the water, his infatuation with it probably bordered on insanity. “I fear not living more than I fear dying.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, seeming to agree, or at least understand his logic. Taking a slice of cheese and cracker, she casually asked, “What do you do for a living?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied her from across the blanket, trying to decide what to say. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he absolutely didn’t want to tell her the truth either. There was a fine line of honesty here somewhere—just like that sweet spot in a cresting wave. He just needed to find it and ride that bitch right out of this conversation. Popping a grape into his mouth, he stalled by chewing thoughtfully and then swallowed it down with another swig of wine before casually saying, “I surf.”

  Her expression remained unchanged, as if she were waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, she said, “That’s it? You surf?”

  She couldn’t possibly look more unimpressed. And although this was exactly the response he’d been hoping for, he’d have been lying if he said it didn’t sting his pride a little bit. “Is there something wrong with that?” It was an effort to keep the offense from his voice.

  She shook her head. “No, there’s not. I was just wondering if you had a job, that’s all.”

  “I do have a job.” Despite his best effort, his tone took on an edge of indignation. And he worked damn hard at it too. Just because he got paid a shit-ton of money to do something that he loved, didn’t mean it wasn’t work.

  “It’s just that…” She let her thought trail, obviously not wanting to offend him, but it was a little too late for that.

  “It’s just what? Finish what you were going to say.”

  She laid her hand on his and brushed her thumb over his knuckles, giving it a placating squeeze like one might if they were about to give someone bad news. “You can’t go surfing through life.”

  Wanna bet? He had a multi-million dollar contract, a home on the beach, and a fat bank account that begged to differ. He was tempted to tell her that, but he wanted Autumn to like him for who he was, despite her believing he was a beach-bumming vagabond surfer. And proving her wrong wasn’t worth the risk of all this blowing up in his face.

  “Don’t you get tired of being poor?”

  Well, that was a presumptive leap. “Money doesn’t buy happiness, Autumn.” He knew that better than anyone. She didn’t strike him as a materialistic person. Then again, maybe he was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misjudged a woman and then paid the price with his heart.

  “No, it doesn’t,” she agreed. “But it sure as hell makes life a lot easier sometimes.”

  Spoken like someone who knew from experience. “Did you grow up poor?”

  She shrugged, breaking his stare to pick at an interesting piece of lint on the blanket. “We struggled,” she admitted, finally glancing back up to meet his stare.

  The idea of her being in need shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did—a lot of people struggled financially. He’d grown up so poor, he and Connor spent most of their time barefoot because their parents couldn’t afford to keep them in shoes. His first surfboard had been a dumpster salvage he’d pieced back together with duct tape. And still, looking back, those were the best times of his life.

  He’d give everything he had to go back to those days, back to that little two-bedroom house three blocks from the beach—to have his parents alive, to be ten years old again with Connor tagging along behind him...

  His dad always used to tell his mom, “We may be poor, but we’re rich in love.” Those were the days when Balen believed in ideals and dreams. Since then, his world had been shattered enough times the pieces were too small to put back together. It was just easier to stop believing in things like love and happy endings. He’d watched his parents’ fairytale get blown to shit seven years ago when a drunk driver slammed into their car New Year’s Eve, killing them both, and he’d lost his own faith in
love with Monica’s betrayal. One thing he knew with absolute certainty, there was no stopping life’s mavericks—they always came. He’d learned a long time ago that the world was one giant riptide.

  “And what about now?” he asked, ready to talk about her for a change, but she was so damn evasive. “Are you still struggling?”

  Autumn’s laughter held no humor. “I’m doing okay, I guess. My divorce was expensive and ugly.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I write greeting cards.”

  Balen’s brow arched, a grin tugging at his top lip.

  Why was he smiling at her? “What’s so funny? Does that surprise you?”

  “A little. You don’t exactly strike me as the mushy greeting card type.”

  She wanted to ask him what that type was, and why specifically he felt that she didn’t fit the bill, but then decided maybe she didn’t want to know.

  “Lay one on me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A greeting card. I want to hear one.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “All right.” His smile was goading, the challenging glint in those amber-flecked eyes—irresistible. “There was no way I could fit all those candles on your cake, so I just set it on fire.”

  His smile widened and that sexy dimple made an appearance. “I was going to send you something sexy for your birthday, but the postman told me to take the stamp off my ass and get out of the mailbox.”

  He started to chuckle and the deep throaty sound filled her with satisfaction as well as something hot and achy.

  “All right. Let me hear something sappy.”

  Sappy, huh…? Digging deep into her bag of bullshit, she stared deep and meaningfully into his eyes and recited one of her most popular romantic cards. “There’s a special bond between you and me, a special bond no one can see. It binds us close and keeps us strong, always reminding us where we belong. Should a tiny thread ever break, a new one will form in its wake. It will ever hold us near and fast, for a love like ours was built to last.”

  She was halfway through her recitation when the playful smile on his handsome face became serious. The intensity in his eyes nearly made her forget the words to her bestselling card. The way he studied her, made Autumn feel self-conscious as she finished her poem. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable. Silence stretched between them for several heartbeats.

  “Wow, Autumn…” Balen scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “That was…beautiful.”

  “Yeah?” She shrugged, brushing off the compliment. “I’m completely full of shit.”

  He seemed surprised by her response. “You don’t believe the things you write?”

  She looked him square in the eye and told him the God’s honest truth. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t believe in love.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  What woman doesn’t believe in love? He’d ask her the same question she’d asked him, who broke you?—but he already knew the answer. It pissed Balen off, seeing how deeply her bastard of an ex had hurt her with his infidelity. It’d left one hell of an emotional wound, damaging her so completely she not only lost her faith in love, she’d become sexually dysfunctional. What a goddamn waste.

  Damn, he wanted to fix her—wanted to remind her how good it could be and show her what she was missing. Maybe he couldn’t make her believe in love again, but he could make her believe in herself. He could show her how beautiful she was, that she was more than enough to please a man.

  But then he couldn’t exactly tell her that, not without coming off sounding like a skeezy jackass just looking to get laid. The last thing he wanted was for her to look back on this vacation and see herself as nothing more than a lonely woman seduced by some beach-bum loser on the Island of Love—not a great take away there.

  Listen to him… “holding back” his ass. Yeah, it’d sounded good when he’d spewed that propaganda to her in the water, but it was all bullshit—every fucking word. Keeping his hands to himself when all he wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless was driving him insane. He wanted her with a raw need that kept his body strung tight and his senses on fire for the briefest glimpse of her ivory flesh, or the faintest hint of her light coconut scent. In no time at all, she had gotten under his skin. She consumed his thoughts, preoccupied his time, and sparked this insatiable desire to possess her. Autumn made him feel like a goddamn Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he was telling himself he couldn’t have her and the next he was sure she was the one thing he couldn’t live without.

  Reaching up, he gently brushed his thumb against her cheek. Meeting her beautiful eyes, he stared into them and with the deepest sincerity, he told her, “I’m so sorry your husband was such a fuckwit.”

  She broke into a fit of laughter and that was exactly what he’d been hoping to hear. The conversation had taken a heavy turn and they both needed to lighten the mood, and he sure as shit needed the distraction. Draining his glass of wine, he hopped to his feet and pulled Autumn up with him.

  “What are you doing?” She was still laughing. The light melody was like crack to his senses and he felt it all the way to the base of his cock. Tension coiled in his spine, making his balls ache. Yeah, they needed to get moving because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the torture of lounging beside her.

  “Put this on.” He handed her his t-shirt and she slipped it over her head. Her own clothes were in a pile behind her, but his covered more of her than hers did. He needed to give his eyes a break from the temptation of that polka dot bikini and all that smooth, toned flesh. Autumn had amazing breasts with cleavage that inspired images of his cock sliding between those two lush mounds and painting those pretty pink nipples white with his cum.

  His eager erection bucked with anticipation. There was something primordially satisfying, and masculinely exhilarating at the thought of marking Autumn, claiming her as his—even if only for a few days. He ignored the subtle pinch in his chest left behind at the fleeting reminder that this—that Autumn—was only temporary.

  They were about having fun, he reminded himself. No strings. He’d made that clear right from the beginning. And he was okay with that—probably—because the thought had crossed his mind a time or two in the last few days, what if this could be something more?

  “Balen, where are we going?”

  He pulled his cell from his pocket and held it up. “We’re going to go get your picture for your scrapbook.”

  She glanced around. “Can’t we just do it here? This place is beautiful.”

  He slipped his phone back into his pocket and gave her hand a tug, pulling her toward the waterfall. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Her hand tightened in Balen’s as they closed in on the waterfall. The overspray made the rocks slippery and she wasn’t quite as sure-footed as the surfer who had balance unlike anything she’d ever seen. She tugged his hand to get his attention, stopping on the thin lip of rock edging the wall. “Slow down or I’m going to fall in and drown. For the second time in my life, some guy I like is going to have to save me.” She’d meant it as a joke, but the moment the words slipped out, she realized what she’d just said and hoped Balen didn’t catch it. Or at least if he did, he wouldn’t read more into it. She wasn’t confessing to having feelings for him, even if it might have been true.

  But he didn’t miss a beat. His brow arched and that teasing grin she loved played at the corners of his mouth. “Just think about all that mouth to mouth you’re going to miss out on. It might be worth taking the dive.”

  She busted out laughing.

  “Would you be pissed if I pushed you in?”

  “Yes!” She playfully cuffed his shoulder, laughing harder.

  “All right,” he chuckled. “Let me know if you change your mind.” Balen puckered up and kissed the air between them. He should have looked ridiculous and not as hot and tempting
as he was. “My mouth to mouth is pretty impressive.”

  Oh, she knew exactly how impressive it was. So much that, for a moment, she did consider jumping in. It might have been worth it just to see the look on his face.

  “Are we going through there?” she yelled over the sound of the roaring falls, glancing up at the blanket of water pouring over the cliff. She intentionally changed the subject before she caved to the temptation and pressed her mouth against his.

  “Yep. Have you ever been on the backside of a waterfall?”

  She shook her head in case he couldn’t hear her. “No. How do we get back there?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  As she studied him a moment and contemplated the question, the answer quickly came—yes. Yes, she did trust him. Autumn nodded, unsure where that lump of emotion clogging her throat suddenly came from. Maybe it was because she hadn’t known a man in a long time she could have given that same answer to.

  “All right, then.” His approving smile made her feel warm and fuzzy all over. She didn’t get a lot of time to enjoy the feeling because, a moment later, his grip on her hand tightened and she got a two second warning before he said, “Hold your breath,” and then pulled her into the curtain of water.

  Autumn let out a startled squawk as the water crashed over her, threatening to pull her from his grip, but Balen’s hand tightened around hers, refusing to let her go. Seconds later, they were behind the downpour and standing in a cave. It would have been completely dark if it wasn’t for the large heart-shaped opening of rock in the back. Sunlight flooded inside, beaming against the wall of water and through the fine mist rising from the pool’s surface. She stepped a little to the left, and that was when she saw it—the prism of light rising out of the falls and arching onto a wall.

  “Oh, Balen…this is so beautiful.”

  She wasn’t sure if he heard her over the cacophonous rush of water echoing in the cave. Balen moved a step closer, bending down to speak close to her ear, his deep, husky voice rolling through her like a rushing wave. “Ever touch a rainbow?”