by Kim Loraine
As she rode the ten minutes to her favorite spot, she breathed deep, embracing the heat of an Indian summer, the smell of sea salt, and the warm breeze on her skin. She loved her hometown, but she itched to travel the world, see the ocean from the other side of the globe.
Her phone rang as she parked her bike. She let out a light chuckle when she saw her mom’s number on the screen.
She answered in Japanese by default. “Ohaiyo, Okasan.”
“Lena-chan. Did I wake you?” Her mother’s soft-spoken voice brought a smile to her face.
“Nope. Just about to hit the beach for some time on the water.”
“Oh, maybe I’m bothering you, then. You will call me after?”
“No, it’s okay, Mama. What’s up?”
“I need to make a decision about the kitchen. Can you help me? My English is not very good.”
“Your English is great. You’ve been speaking it since before some of those contractors were born.”
“No. I get nervous.”
Lena sighed. “What time are they coming over?” she asked, resigned.
“Noon.”
“Today?”
“Hai.”
“All right. I’ll be there.”
“Arigatou. Have fun surfing. Ki o tsukete ne.” Her mother hung up with her usual warning to be careful.
After locking up her stuff and applying a liberal coat of wax to her board, Lena rolled her shoulders and headed into the waiting surf. The water was cool, but welcome as she paddled out and sat astride the surfboard. She caught a few swells, tumbled into the break several times, but the waves weren’t cooperating this morning and it was turning out to be more work than it was worth. As she trudged up the shore, lugging her board and frowning in disappointment she watched as three figures ran along the water’s edge, one significantly ahead of the other two.
Her heart caught in her throat as she realized a shirtless and sweaty Michael was fast approaching. Maybe he won’t notice me. She had mere moments to decide whether to make a break for it or to hang back and let him pass. One choice made her look uncomfortable, the other, aloof. Aloof was the best approach, she decided. That would let her keep some semblance of power over the situation. Wading in the ankle deep water, she smiled brightly as he slowed before coming to a full stop in front of her.
“Photographer,” he said, his heart-stopping grin spreading across his face.
“Firefighter.”
The other two figures closed the distance and stopped alongside him. Fireboys travel in packs. I should have known. Tommy Klipper and Carson Sullivan—Sully for short—eyed her speculatively.
“Go ahead, guys. I’ll catch up,” Michael assured them.
“It’s your funeral, Mikey,” Klipper chided as he and Sully jogged on down the beach while Michael’s eyes roamed Lena’s bikini-clad body.
“Damn. Maybe I should take up surfing. You give lessons?”
She fought the heat creeping up her cheeks and laughed him off. “You couldn’t afford me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “You’re probably right.”
Navigating the shallow water, she made her way onto the beach and headed past him.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Can I take you out tonight?”
She turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder.
“I’m busy.”
“Tomorrow?”
Damn, he was persistent.
“Fine,” she grumbled, laying it on thick. There was no way she’d let him know how much she wanted to kiss him again.
“I’ll call you.”
“You don’t have my number.”
He winked. “That’s what you think.”
Before she could press the issue, he started running toward the figures of his buddies on the horizon.
Chapter 3
Michael checked the clock on his phone as he waited outside the coffee shop Lena had agreed to meet him at. She was twenty minutes late. Grasping the back of his neck, he sighed. He’d been stood up. It figured. He’d switched shifts with Sully so he could get this girl to go out with him and now she wasn’t going to fucking show. He never switched shifts anymore. The last time he had, he’d lost his brother. A chill ran down his spine, setting the hairs on his neck at attention as he remembered getting the phone call telling him John had died in the line of duty. What if Sully met the same fate . . . because of him?
Running a hand through his closely cropped hair, he decided he’d waited long enough. He started down the boardwalk, toward a barstool and a cold beer—ready to dull the pain.
A light touch on his shoulder stopped him. “Give up already, firefighter?”
He couldn’t contain his smile as he turned to face her. She didn’t have any idea how her voice had just saved him from himself and the precarious edge upon which he teetered at all times.
Her grin and cocked eyebrow made him want to have a witty retort at the ready, but as soon as he set eyes on her, his mouth ran dry and all coherent thought evaporated from his brain. She was a goddess. Her dark hair, straight and shining in the sunlight, fell like ebony curtains over her bare shoulders, covering her flawless skin. Without a care for what was appropriate, he reached out and brushed the hair away from one side, revealing a bare shoulder and delicate collarbone.
Her eyes went wide at his gesture of familiarity and she tugged the top of her fire-engine-red sundress a little higher.
“You look fantastic.”
She calmed at his compliment and offered a small smile. “You look pretty good, too. Even with a shirt on.”
Teasing her, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted. “I could always take it off. For the sake of making you more comfortable.”
Her hand fell to his to stop him as she laughed. “No, I’d like to see if I can make it through a conversation with you while all of your clothes are on.”
“Your loss.”
She hadn’t removed her hand and he took the opportunity to entwine his fingers with hers and start them on their path toward his car, dinner, drinks, and who knows what else.
“So, where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Ah, that’s a secret.”
“But what if I’m deathly allergic to something?”
Worry snuck in. Shit, he hadn’t thought of that.
“Are you?”
“No. I just like to see you squirm.”
“You’re a smart ass.”
“Absolutely.”
When she squeezed his hand tighter, he felt an unfamiliar tightening in his chest, accompanied by an almost crippling fear. She was different—a good different—but somehow terrifying.
“Have you been to Kaneyo?”
Her bright smile made his skin tingle. “That’s my favorite place. But it’s over thirty minutes away.”
He shrugged, bursting with pride at her reaction. Clearly, she’d been expecting a night in Golden Beach. “I don’t mind a little driving. Especially on a day like today.”
“Of course that is yours.” She laughed as she gestured to his 1967 Chevy Impala.
“Don’t tease me about my baby. I spent the better part of a year restoring her with John.”
He opened the passenger door and watched her slide along the rich leather seats. Her eyes closed in appreciation and he fought the urge to bend down and kiss her. Shaking his head, he climbed behind the wheel and pulled out into traffic.
As they drove along the coast, she leaned her head back and let her hair whip around behind her in the wind.
“I see why you don’t mind driving. In a car like this, I’d be tempted to drive all the way to Maryland.”
“John and I drove to San Francisco after graduation.”
“Wow. That’s a long way.” Her eyes filled with pity at the mention of his brother’s name and a pang of loss went through him.
He shrugged away the hurt and chose to focus on the good memories. “Yeah, it was awesome, though. This car can make even fourteen hours with my baby brother tolerable.”
They drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence. He stole glances at her along the way, catching glimpses of her red lips, the line of her neck, and the swell of her breasts as the neckline of her dress crept down.
The setting sun cast a warm, red streak across the sky as they pulled into a parking space and wandered through the sand to the surf shack-turned restaurant.
“Confession,” he started.
“You don’t like Japanese food?”
He laughed. “Uh, sort of. The closest thing to sushi I’ve ever had is rice.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not all raw fish and rice. This place is amazing. The owner is half-Japanese. His parents own a place exactly like this in Japan.”
“Have you been to Japan?”
She shook her head, then paused as though reconsidering, a soft frown creasing her brow. “I was so little I can’t remember it. Mom took me back right after my dad left us. I think I was around two. It’s on my list. I’m going to travel the world and take pictures.”
They chose a table in the sand, twinkle lights and torches bathing them in a golden glow. He let her order for them and crossed his fingers that she wasn’t going to poison him.
“Raw tuna? I don’t know,” he said, glaring dubiously at his bowl as the waiter placed it in front of him.
“Baby.”
He accepted the chopsticks she handed him as a threat of anxiety flared. Two fucking sticks. No wonder Japanese people are so thin. Built-in portion control.
“You need help?” Lena offered, holding her chopsticks up to show him the proper finger placement.
“No. I can figure it out.”
He squeezed a piece of fish between the two utensils and immediately flipped the food into his lap.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered.
She was out of her seat and taking his hand before he could stop her. The scent of her hair invaded his senses, making his crotch swell uncomfortably. “Here, like this,” she said, manipulating his fingers and sliding each chopstick into place. “Now, open and close like this.” She helped him deftly collect a bite and watched as he finally tasted the tuna.
“Oh, my God. That’s freaking amazing.”
She nodded and slipped back into her seat.
After a few more stumbles with chopsticks, he finally got the hang of it and stopped embarrassing himself.
“So, firefighter, runner, womanizer. What else is there to you?”
He choked on his beer. “Womanizer?”
She laughed. “Please. Don’t patronize me. You get around—a lot.”
He felt a hot blush creep up his neck. He didn’t want her to see him that way.
“Just haven’t found the right woman.”
“Maybe you have impossible standards.”
“What about you? Photographer with wanderlust, surfer . . . and?”
“Man-eater,” she offered, a mischievous smirk turning up her lips.
“Aren’t we a pair?”
She lifted the dessert menu and hid her face.
“Dessert? They have Hawaiian ice cream.” She was clearly trying to change the subject.
He shifted in his chair, thinking the sight of her licking ice cream from a spoon might undo him.
“I’ve made some other plans. If you don’t mind.”
She cocked an eyebrow and tugged the neckline of her dress higher again, causing the swell of her breasts to press as the fabric adjusted.
Jesus. This girl is going to kill me.
The house smelled of fresh paint and sawdust. Lena smiled as she rounded the corner and made her way into her mom’s kitchen. After all of her indecision, her mother had finally gotten the kitchen remodel off the ground.
“Okasan?” Looking around the space, she saw tools on the counter, cabinets half installed, and a hole where the sink should be.
“Hai!” her mother called from the back porch.
Lena followed the sound of her mother’s voice and pushed open the screen door. Expecting to see her mother tending the herbs in her garden, she bounded onto the cement patio. And stopped short. The long, lean legs encased in worn denim and stretched out on the porch swing definitely did not belong to her mom.
“Photographer.” Michael’s greeting sent warm waves of excitement up her spine.
“What are you doing here?” It came out a little harsher than she’d meant it to, but the sight of him, at her childhood home, suddenly made her a nervous mess.
He offered a soft grin and made to sit up, wincing slightly. “I’m working on your mom’s kitchen.”
“No, you’re not. I met the contractors two weeks ago.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m here. Working.”
“Doesn’t look like it to me. It looks like you’re taking a nap.”
As he stood, she noticed the ice pack in his hand. “Yeah, I cracked my head pretty damn hard on an open cabinet. Your mama made me lay down with an ice pack. I tried to tell her I’m a certified EMT, but she wouldn’t hear it.”
She couldn’t contain her broad smile at the thought of the tiny woman bossing around a burly firefighter.
“She’s a little scary,” he whispered.
At that moment, her mother came around from the side yard, a basket of fresh picked herbs hooked on one arm. “I heard you, Michael.”
Lena burst out laughing as his cheeks flushed a soft pink.
“She hears everything,” Lena warned. “It’s like a superpower.”
“Lena-Chan, did you come for lunch? I have no kitchen. We can go get some food.” Her mom eyed them, shrewd gaze lingering on Michael. “I can bring something for you, Michael.”
“Thank you, ma’am. That would be nice.”
Lena fought off an eye roll at his overly polite behavior. “You invited me to lunch, Mama. Remember?”
Her mom smirked and waved off Lena’s question. “Must have forgot.”
Michael’s soft chuckle brought Lena’s attention back around. “I need to talk to Michael for a minute. Can I meet you at the car?”
The small woman nodded and left, only the spring breeze and the sound of birds chittering between them.
“Couldn’t wait to get me alone?” he asked, one corner of his mouth turned up in a cocky grin.
“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
He answered her with a hand around her waist and his lips on hers.
Yes. He was sure.
And he was right.
She wanted more.
Too soon for her liking, he pulled away. Already, she missed the warmth of his skin on hers, the scratch of his slight stubble, the smell of his cologne as he pressed her to him. She could easily get carried away with this man. Before things got out of hand, she pushed back, forgetting why she wanted to talk to him in the first place.
“I, uh, my mom is waiting,” she stammered, out of breath and tongue-tied.
“Can I take you out again?”
“I’d like that.”
“Friday?”
A quick flip through her mental calendar gave her a disappointing answer. “No. I’m booked for a weekend wedding in Maryland.”
His eyebrows rose. “Maryland? That’s a hell of a long way to travel for a wedding.”
He was right. Her pride swelled at the thought. People paid her a lot of money to capture their special moments. “Yeah, it is. But they wan
ted me. I wasn’t going to say no to paid travel and a weekend in a resort.”
“Guess I didn’t realize how good you really are.”
She shrugged, trying to play off the compliment. “It’s all about what the client thinks.”
“So, when are you free?”
“Monday or Tuesday.”
He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing and lower lip pushing out into a delicious pout. “I’ve got duty on Monday. How about Tuesday evening?”
“Maybe. Call me and we can make a plan.”
Excitement raced through her at the idea of seeing him again, maybe taking things farther than just a heated kiss.
Chapter 4
Two weeks had passed since Lena had agreed to go out with Michael again. She hadn’t heard a word from him. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the disappointment from seeping into her head. He’d been so different this time. Engaged, interested, eager to know more about her. If she let herself remember, she could still feel his hand on the small of her back, fingers playing over her hips. He’d left her with a kiss to remember him by and a promise to call.
Now, as she looked at the blank screen of her phone, she felt like a fool. She should have known. After all, they’d been here once before. Granted, a one-night-stand a year ago did not constitute a strong knowledge of a person. But when they’d slept together in an alcohol and passion fueled haze, he hadn’t exactly been interested in getting to know her. They’d screwed and said goodbye; no strings, and barely any conversation. A familiar wave of humiliation hit her at the memory of the awkward farewell, and her expectation that he’d at least ask for her phone number.
He hadn’t.
Raking a hand through her hair, she scooped the long locks into a ponytail and rolled her head from side to side. The beep of the kitchen timer filled the quiet room and she made her way to the waiting bread dough. Pulling the towel off the top of the bowl, she turned the dough out onto the counter, diving in and kneading away her frustrations.
