Rush: The Riptide Series Book #1

by Brooke Page

  “Just take the early hours on the way back,” I smiled. My blue, troubled eyes were hidden by my sunglasses. I was only nineteen, but my life had been a cluster of disappointment and uncertainty.

  “On the way back? I thought we weren’t coming back?” she teased.

  I laughed under my breath.

  “Colby would miss you too much,” she added, unscrewing the top to her bottle of pop. “I know you’ve been thinking about him the entire ride.”

  “I have not,” I lied.

  The glare she sent me while taking a swig of her drink was filled with empathy. “He really does love you, Lo.”

  My eyes watered behind my sunglasses. Why was it so hard for me to believe he had the best intentions for me? Colby was a good guy. He gave me space, but would be there in an instant if I needed him. It hurt him when I didn’t respond to his invitation of co-habitating, and instead took off on an eighteen-hour road trip with his cousin, without him. He asked when I was coming back, and I still had yet to respond to the text message.

  “I get that you’re afraid to have a relationship, I really do. He wants to take care of you, though,” she added.

  Finally, she accepted my silence and leaned her seat backward to fall asleep. Marcy knew I didn’t like to talk about Colby and his affection for me. I would open up to her once I had a few days of breathing in the salty air. It always seemed to calm my nerves.

  YaYa helped, she was Marcy and Colby’s grandmother, but she felt like mine too. She was loving, generous, and devoted to her family. Qualities I wasn’t used to getting from the only adult in my life.

  My phone chirped, notifying me of a text message. As if she realized I’d been comparing her to someone else.

  Mom: Where are you?

  Guilt rushed me for not telling her I was leaving town. Normally it was a few days before she sent me a message. This must have been record timing. Glancing between my phone and the road, I replied back.

  Me: I’m going to Alabama with Marcy. Not sure when I’ll be home.

  She began typing instantly. I rolled my eyes, tossing my phone between the seats before I could see her response. I already had an unclear head, and texting with my mother while driving would sure enough get me killed.

  “Was that Colby?” Marcy yawned, resituating in her seat.

  “No, he knows when to leave me alone.”

  “Dearest Mom, then?” she asked, but already knew the answer.

  “The one and only,” I sighed.

  “You’re too good to that low-life.”

  Marcy was right, but I was all my mom had. Inside I was desperate for her to change, but knew in my heart it would never happen. Eventually I’d tell her where the stash of cash was hidden in my room. She’d never survive if I left her without part of the little income I made at the Arcade and Go-Kart Fun Spot in our small town.

  “Once I have enough money for college, I won’t have to worry about her.” It wasn’t a total lie. I wanted to go to school and make something of myself, but I didn’t have the heart to completely abandon my mother. I didn’t know what I wanted to go to school for either.

  “There are loans for that.” Marcy didn’t believe my game plan.

  “I don’t want to be owned by a bank my entire life.”

  “If you go to college and get a good job, you can pay them off, but that would require leaving the lovely town of Harris.”

  “I’ve got time. Besides, I can’t leave your uncle hanging at the Arcade.”

  Marcy snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. Your cut-off jean shorts and tanks are what keep the young kids entertained, not the quarter costing video games.”

  I waved my hand at her in dismissal.

  “Those fourteen year old boys don’t know what to do with themselves when you bend over to get the baseballs and softballs from the batting cages.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “What’s more gross is how they beat off the second they reach the bathroom. You know how disgusting those stalls are? I’d hate to see what it’d look like with a black light.”

  I winced. “You can stop now.”

  “Fine, but it’s the truth. They can’t get enough of the blonde bomb shell with a booty.”

  “Your butt is way nicer than mine,” I pointed out. It was the truth. She was part Hispanic and had curves to die for. Her dark brown hair looked dazzling with her tan complexion, her green eyes standing out perfectly with her full lips. She was who the boys at the Arcade really admired.

  “I know,” she smiled, “hence why I don’t work there anymore.”

  Shaking my head, I turned up the music and drove.

  ***

  We arrived in record time, thanks to the lack of traffic. The end of May was The Shores’ calm after the spring break storm, and before the summer beach travelers invaded.

  “YaYa!” Marcy shrieked as she ran to her grandmother. She stood barely five feet tall, dressed in slacks and a heavy sweater. I never understood how she didn’t sweat in the heat.

  “Marcy,” YaYa cooed, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

  Retrieving our bags from the trunk, I tried to not feel awkward. YaYa was amazing, but she still wasn’t my own blood. I yearned to have the same connection as Marcy and YaYa.

  After Marcy let go, she came back to me, taking some of the luggage.

  “My Lo Lo,” YaYa called to me, her wrists flicking for me to come and give her a hug.

  Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I scurried to her, accepting her hug as a toddler does to her mother. She smelled like a mix between lavender and fresh sweet corn. I breathed her in, feeling safe and at home.

  “Lauren, it’s been a while. What’s new in your life?” she asked, kissing me on the cheek, keeping an arm around me as we approached the steps. The woman was nearing eighty years old, but took the creaky wooden steps like a champ. Her home was small and on stilts so the water wouldn’t ruin everything when the storms and high tides came through.

  “Same old thing,” I smiled, opening the door to the kitchen. Nothing had changed about YaYa’s house. Same sea shell wallpaper along the back of the tiny kitchen, light blue walls painted in the living room with white wicker furniture. There were three bedrooms, one for YaYa and the other two were reserved for Marcy and Colby. When I strolled passed his room, I stopped for a moment, an ache filling me.

  He’d held me many nights on top of the tan comforter of the twin bed. Stroking my hair and pressing his lips to my forehead, telling me life was easier here, and to not think about what was happening at home.

  “You can stay in here if you want,” Marcy cooed, speeding past me to her room. “At least until Colby finds a way to come here and woo you.” She wiggled her brows at me before stepping into her room.

  “Cortar hacia fuera!” YaYa scolded then gave me a grin, “Stay wherever you’d like. Don’t listen to Marcy. You niñas are too young to worry about boys.”

  “I’ll stay with Marcy.” I didn’t need the reminder of Colby, and the fact I couldn’t be who he wanted me to be.

  Finding the room, I let out a soft sigh of contentment. The bunks were still the same, a soft pale pink comforter on one, while the other was cream. There were crocheted blankets on the foot of each bed. YaYa made them herself, a blend of creams and greens. I always pondered ‘accidently’ packing one to take home. The walls were a seafoam, a series of starfish planted around the window that overlooked the strip of the touristy town. We could see the high-rise hotels that would hold the mounds of spring breakers looking for fun and temporary love. They were deserted this time of year. Marcy would be disappointed, but that wouldn’t stop her eyes from finding new prospects.

  “You want the top as usual?” Marcy asked, beginning to un-pack her bags in the dresser.

  “Sure.” The top bunk allowed snippets of the ocean to come into view at night. The stars always shined brighter against the reflection of the water.

  “Hussle, niñas, I need help in the kitchen for dinner. I’m making y
our favorite.”

  Marcy held her hand over her heart. We knew by the smell. Mexican-spiced beef brisket was in the oven. “Remind me why we live in Michigan?”

  I snickered. “Because that’s where we’re anchored too.”

  Marcy slammed her dresser drawer shut. “We’re adults now. I’m leaving whenever I feel like it.”

  I smiled at her. “That’s the plan.”

  Chapter Three

  Lauren

  “Why are we going for a walk on the beach? I’m tired,” Marcy whined as we crossed the street toward the tall, flowy grass separating the road from the sand.

  “You didn’t have to come with me. I’ve been craving the feel of the sand between my toes since we left The Shore last year.”

  Marcy smiled thoughtfully. “Nothing beats the sand from the Gulf of Mexico.”

  Nothing beats the sand in general. I thought to myself. Even at the local ‘beach’ by the tiny lake in Harris I found some solace.

  The sun was low, and I couldn’t wait to see the clear ocean water against the sunset. Maybe we’d get lucky and see dolphins playing in the waves.

  We set out through the narrow path of sand wedged between the tall grasses. It was high, up to our waists. I couldn’t resist taking off my flip flops. Something about the sand between my toes made my mood shift from anxious to calm. The wind brushed against my face, pulling my hair in its direction. The closer to the shore we got, the gustier it became.

  Reaching the end of the path, we were greeted with the solitude of the open sand, sea shells skewed amongst the tan ripples. It was cool to my feet with the setting sun and ocean breeze.

  “Never gets old,” Marcy sang, twirling in a circle as though she were a ballerina, then falling on her back into the sand. Laughing, I sat beside her, burying my hands under the sand. It felt so good against my skin.

  The waves were crashing against the shore, big, white caps bringing in new shells and stones, then swallowing them back into her depths. The sun made the blue of the ocean look purple, the sky becoming shades of pinks and oranges. It was hard to figure out where the land stopped and started. It was absolutely beautiful, and made my heart beat steadily with comfort and ease.

  Sitting up, Marcy followed my gaze to the ocean. “The water is raging.”

  I glanced at her and smiled. “Amongst other things.”

  “You mean the kite surfer?” she asked.

  I laughed. “No, I meant the sunset.”

  “I’m surprised there aren’t more of them out there. It’s windy enough.”

  My eyes moved from the sun to the kite surfer, watching him twist in the wind, his kite blowing and dipping with his movements. Curiosity filled me as I watched. He looked fit in his black neoprene shirt, his swim trunks matching. I gasped when he flew high in the air, flipping in a complete circle. “That’s insane!”

  Marcy smirked, fluffing her hair. “If he can handle those waves, maybe he can handle me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You don’t even know him. For all you know he could be an asshole.”

  “Or have a butter face,” she added.

  I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”

  “I wonder if those guys are with him?” She stood, dusting the sand from her legs and nodding in the direction of two guys in board shorts sitting closer to the water. “Let’s go say hi.”

  That was Marcy, always keeping her eye open. She normally would wait for them to come to her, but I guess she was feeling aggressive.

  Marcy loved having flings, and I always picked up the pieces when they didn’t work out. Secretly, she liked them to be short, hard, and devastating.

  I was the opposite. I had my own forms of devastation, and adding heartbreak from a man wasn’t on my priority list.

  Marcy smiled, putting on her charm as we approached them. I stood in her shadow, my eyes still on the kite surfer.

  Soaring through the air and breaking through the waves seemed so natural to him. He was smooth as he weaved his body with the wind, controlling the massive black and white kite. His body was calm and collected in the angry sea, a talent most couldn’t grasp. I was hypnotized and entranced by him, and I hadn’t even spoken one word to him.

  Marcy and the two other boys were chatting as he began gliding into the shore, the kite in the direction of the setting sun. He hopped off his board, letting go of the bar. My eyes widened in fear, thinking his kite would fly away, but then realized it was attached to his waist.

  As I watched him come closer, I could see more of his features. His dark hair was wet and flipped to the side of his head. He didn’t have the traditional long surfer hair, but it wasn’t short either. He was tan, making me think he was native to the bright Alabama sun. His square jaw-line radiated masculinity, matching his broad shoulders and strong posture.

  Then his eyes found mine, and I couldn’t look away. His mouth formed a thin line, his eyes squinting from the harsh breeze. The closer he came, the more my heart hammered. He was just as gorgeous out of the water as he was in it.

  “Colt!” he shouted, frustration obvious in his tone.

  One of the guys Marcy was talking to whipped his head toward the water, then ran the twenty feet to him. The kite surfer wasn’t happy with Colt. I thought he was going to smack him upside the head. After Colt was done being scolded, he ran to where the kite landed, helping the surfer get it in order while he un-hitched himself from the cords, fumbling with all the parts that were attached to the kite and his waistband.

  “Hey, what’s your name?” the guy who was still chatting with Marcy asked.

  Peeling my attention from the kite surfer, it took me a moment to answer him. He was about our age, cute with brown spikey hair and blue eyes. His skin wasn’t tan like the other two.

  “Hi, I’m Lauren.”

  “I’m Tucker.”

  He looked me up and down, a mischievous grin on his face. “You gonna come tonight?”

  My brows pinched together. What was he talking about?

  Marcy nudged my side. “Of course she is.”

  “Come where?” I asked, my eyes finding the surfer again.

  Marcy giggled and twirled a piece of her dark hair between her fingers. “I guess there’s a new club on the beach by the pavilion where we used to hang out. They invited us to come with them.”

  “Tonight?” I inwardly frowned. I wasn’t in the mood to be out partying. It was our first night here. I came to the ocean for some peace and tranquility, and to hopefully figure out what the hell I was going to do with my life, not to meet and hook up with guys. I was hoping Marcy would give me at least a few days to settle and enjoy The Shore.

  “A local band is playing. They mainly do covers.” Tucker took a step closer to me. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”

  He wasn’t being very subtle with the flirting. Marcy nodded her head encouragingly, her eyes pleading with me to say yes. “Colt will be there, what about your other friend?”

  Marcy caught my gaze toward the kite surfer, catching on to my interest. I guess I was obvious with my infatuation.

  Tucker’s eyes flicked toward the kite surfer. “Yeah, that’s Vance. He’ll be there.”

  “Oh, Vance Everret? I didn’t even recognize him,” Marcy smiled, bringing her attention back to Tucker.

  “The one and only,” Tucker said under his breath. He turned back to me. “So?”

  “All right,” I conceded. “But not for long,” I whispered to Marcy.

  She wiggled her eyebrows then glanced at Colt, who was still helping Vance with the giant kite. No doubt she was interested in him. He was tall, blond, and tan, totally her type. He most likely had blue eyes. Marcy had a thing for blond guys with blue eyes.

  Colt looked up from the kite and winked at her, but soon went back to the kite after Vance had barked more orders at him.

  Tucker stole my attention. “How long you here for?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, not giving him an answer. I didn’t have a clue.

&
nbsp; His smile turned into a smirk, his eyes becoming darker. I didn’t like the vibe he was sending me. Thankfully, Colt and Vance came over to change the mood.

  Vance wasn’t exactly the mood changer I was looking for. “We need to go,” he was curt to Colt and Tucker.

  Colt frowned at him then put his arm around Marcy’s shoulders. “Vance, this is Marcy and her friend—”

  “Lauren,” Marcy answered quickly, realizing Colt didn’t remember. My eyes found the sand, then met Vance and his beautiful sea green eyes. He was staring at me intently, and I couldn’t look away. I gulped, crossing and uncrossing my arms while fidgeting my feet. His gaze made me nervous yet fascinated at the same time.

  Marcy nudged me again, her brows crinkled. I wasn’t one to be frazzled in front of attractive guys.

  “I invited them to come to The Hangout with us tonight.”

  Vance’s gaze transferred from me to Colt. Neither of them speaking for what felt like minutes. Tucker managed to fill the gap.

  “I can walk you there now while Vance and Colt freshen up,” Tucker offered.

  “We’ll meet them there,” Vance barked, throwing the bag with his kite over his shoulder and slapping his board into Tucker’s stomach. Tucker let out an umph, leaning over his feet, nearly dropping the board in the process.

  “We need to freshen up anyway,” Marcy mused. “See you in an hour or so?”

  Colt gave her a wink and squeezed her closer to his side.

  Vance cleared his throat, the signal for them to leave. Waving goodbye, they traveled down the beach along the water’s edge. Tucker carried Vance’s board, arguing with him. It was obvious Vance was their alpha.

  “Did you see how hot Colt was?!” Marcy squealed on the way back to YaYa’s.

  “I had a feeling you’d be into him.”

  Marcy wrapped her arms around my neck from behind. “And you were flustered by Vance Everret.”

  “No I wasn’t,” I scoffed, shrugging her from my shoulders. “How do you know him, anyway?”

  “Right, explains why you turned into a heroin addict needing a fix the second he checked you out. Everyone has a crush on Vance Everret. I’m surprised you’re just now noticing him. We’ve ran into him before. It’s just been a long time and I couldn’t tell it was him at first.”