“It is kind of coincidental.”
Coincidental. He inwardly scoffed. So many times in the past year he’d thought about her and the unfair way he’d ended things. Six months ago—six months after the last time he’d seen her—he’d hoped enough time had passed and he could finally tell her the truth…that he spent half of his life in the water. But then he’d worried that might hurt her all over again, when she might be healing instead. He couldn’t do that to her.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said, looking appealingly nervous again.
He couldn’t help laughing. “Ask whatever you’d like.” At hearing his own words, the chuckle in his throat died.
The interview.
For five magical minutes, he’d forgotten. Being around Justine was throwing him off.
Except for that first year of irresponsible debauchery, Chase Ryder had never given an interview, never had a photo op. At fifteen, he’d thrived on that kind of notoriety, being the newest hotshot on Oahu. But when his reckless behavior caused his mother to suffer, his entire life changed. Since then, he’d made damn sure to keep the personas of Will and Chase separate.
Yet here he was, at the mercy of a Los Angeles-based reporter. If Justine wanted to, she could ruin life as he knew it, and all because—a year ago—he’d been desperate to spare her feelings and not hurt her more than she had been hurting at the time.
“That’s what we’re here for,” he added after taking a deep breath. He lifted an eyebrow and pulled out a chair for her to sit. “The interview.”
“Right,” she said, although she seemed to be thinking of something else. “Let me just grab my notepad.” She dashed to where she’d dropped her purse by the door.
“How long are you on the island?” Will asked.
“Two more days,” she said, digging through her purse.
“You said you’re on vacation. Did you come alone or with friends?”
“Alone, but visiting a friend.”
“Female friend?” he couldn’t help tagging on.
She lifted her chin and looked at him. “Hey, who’s interviewing who?”
Will chuckled. “Sorry. I just…it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”
And whose fault is that?
Justine returned to the patio and sat across from him, placing her notebook on the table. Looking very professional—like a reporter. Will tried to ignore the heavy rock of dread in his stomach. He did not want to do this.
“Female friend,” she stated quietly, staring down at her notebook. He caught the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It made him smile in return, and suddenly that rock didn’t seem as heavy.
“Anyway.” She turned to a clean sheet of paper. “Tell me, Chase Ryder”—she shot him a smile that cut into his heart—“why did you retire?”
He cleared this throat and sat back in his chair. Here goes nothing.
“About a year ago, at the beginning of the winter season, I had a…well, I guess you’d call it a crisis of faith. I was at the top of my game, everything was going great, but it was like I didn’t have the heart, I didn’t love it like I should. Chasing the big waves like I do, your head has to be in the game, otherwise, it can be dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” Justine repeated in a low voice, not meeting his eyes.
Will was about to go on, but he hesitated, wanting to come at it from another angle. “Which is why I stopped competing mid-season. I don’t get a high from taking foolish risks. I’m not a daredevil, Juss.” He waited until she looked up at him. “I respect the ocean and its potential dangers. For what I do, I’m as safe as they come.”
She nodded slowly. “I see,” she said, her eyes turning toward the beach. After a moment, Will could see her shoulders drop a bit, like she’d been tense up until now. Then she began to intermittently scribble on her notepad and suck on the end of her pen.
Damn lucky pen.
“So you had this crisis of faith. Can you tell me why?” When he didn’t answer, she looked up. “Will?”
“Oh, um.” He pried his gaze away from her mesmerizing mouth. “I don’t know what it was. Nothing happened that I can put my finger on.”
“You just…lost the love.”
He nodded, looking into her blue eyes.
She put down her pen. “A year ago? Was that the same time we…” Suddenly, she glanced away, blinking rapidly as darkness furrowed her brow.
Will knew exactly what she was thinking. Now that he considered it, when he’d decided to retire from professional surfing was about the same time he’d ended things with her. Because of the way he’d handled it, he’d been pissed off at himself, but until now, he hadn’t thought the two events were connected.
They obviously were.
“Off the record,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table between them, “Chase was my grandfather’s name. Ryder is what the guys called me when we were kids. It’s what I’ve always gone by here.”
Justine’s pen hovered over her notebook. “Where did you grow up?”
“Malibu. And that’s back on the record.”
“So you’ve been surfing your whole life?” she asked, writing again. He was glad he’d pulled her away from what was making her sad.
“Swimming before I could walk, but I didn’t pick up surfing ‘til I was twelve. My parents divorced and my mother moved here to Hawaii. I visited every summer vacation and for a month in the winter. The waves are amazing. I fell in love.”
“Love,” she repeated.
It was a sweet kind of torture—the way she looked, her loose hair blowing, the turquoise ocean her backdrop, the word “love” hanging off the lips he’d kissed. When he opened his mouth, he was tempted to say “stunning,” and then pull her onto his lap.
But he wouldn’t revert to octopus mode. Justine was relaxed, maybe even trusting him again. A little. If he told her the truth about that night, maybe she would understand why he’d left. Maybe she’d even forgive him. He looked at her face, her blue eyes, remembering the fun they’d had together, and the first time he’d held her hand, the way she’d made his head buzz like he was sixteen again.
The realization was like being hit on the head by a coconut.
Justine had to forgive him. He wanted a second chance. Will always swore he would never do an interview, but if giving one to Justine might give him that chance…
That’s one hell of a live volcano you want to climb, he told himself.
She nibbled on her pen and laughed softly at one of the notes she was rereading. And suddenly, it wasn’t even a choice.
So, Will balled his hands into fists under the table and answered more questions for her article. In the middle of telling her about his most recent trip to Australia, she laughed again.
“What?”
“You.” She pointed her pen at him. “Sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around Chase being Will. You’re different, but…” Her eyes gazed away for a moment. “But the same. Huh, maybe it’s the tan.”
He chuckled. “I am the same. Honestly, it’s not something I think about anymore. During the winter when I’m here or in South America, I’m Chase. I work my day job, but it’s mobile, so I can do both without warping my surf bum image.” He grinned. “In the summer when the Pacific is warmer, I’m in L.A. Most days, I go to meetings and appointments just like any working stiff.”
While he spoke, he was trying very hard to ignore the devil on his shoulder who kept whispering that it was pretty dumbass to spill his life story to a reporter.
“Well, this is great.” Justine leaned back in her chair, looking chill and completely at home with the sky and beach behind her. The one-hour interview she’d asked for had stretched to two hours, and Will had barely noticed. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” she added. “I hope it wasn’t too painful.”
“I’d like to say it was out of the kindness of my big heart, but we both know that’s not true.”
“I wish I could apol
ogize for that, but…” She slid a finger across her notebook, then tapped her nails. “Leading this story with how you have two separate lives is the way I know I should go. That’s good journalism.”
“Justine…”
“It’s a huge story, Will. I need a huge story. But I haven’t forgotten your side of the bargain.” She ran a hand over her forehead, kneading a fist into her temple. “There’re holes in my memory only you can fill. I promise to not include your real name if you fill those holes.”
The devil was whispering again.
“How will I know you kept your promise?” Will asked. “Are you going to let me read it first?”
She scoffed a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
Will spread his hands. “I’m just supposed to trust you?”
“Yes.”
Now was his turn to scoff. “No go. I promise to tell you everything that happened that night, only after you turn in your story.”
Her mouth froze pre-rebuttal.
“Not cool being blackmailed, is it?” he said, grinning.
After a moment, she smiled and rolled her eyes. “I suppose that’s fair. Can I ask you one more thing? Off the record.” Her voice was quieter than before. “It’s kind of personal.”
“Okay.”
She sank her teeth into her full bottom lip, quite distractingly. “Tell me, how does it feel…you know…when you’re out there riding the waves like that?”
Will felt a natural smile spread across his face. “Off the record?” he asked. She nodded. “Exhilarating—on crack. A roller coaster or flying, being pushed and pulled. I’m connected to my board, tied to earth, but lighter than air, thrusting like a rocket, then weightless.” For a second, he was far away, lost in his own thoughts. “For me, it’s a rush…but it’s more than physical. It’s intellectual, an emotional high…heady and wet…like you’re screaming on the brink of the hottest—”
He stopped before finishing the comparison.
When he looked at her, Justine’s eyes were round and wide, like they’d been strapped together on the same ride.
“Yeah,” she said after a moment, a corner of her pink mouth curling into a smile. “That’s what it looked like to me, too.” She exhaled and stood, moving toward the edge of the patio. Her little yellow dress blew in the breeze. “I miss it sometimes,” she murmured softly, as if speaking to herself.
“Miss what?”
He noticed her shoulders tense up again and he wondered what he’d said wrong.
“Nothing. It’s stupid.”
“I just compared surfing to hot sex,” Will said, pushing a hand through his hair, feeling sand between his fingers. “Nothing you say can embarrass you now.”
Justine laughed. “It’s not embarrassing, but thank you for telling me about the hot sex. I’ll add it to my story…give it that human element readers love.”
“Great,” Will said with a chuckle.
“Anyway, the way you talked about surfing and being in the ocean.” She gazed toward the waves. “I haven’t been in the water for a while.”
“Not at all?” He suspected this already, but he was curious. “The Justine Simms I knew was a water bug. You talked about learning to scuba dive.”
She shook her head. “It scares me.”
Will heard the hitch in her voice. His chest tightened, understanding what she meant and why she was now afraid of the ocean.
So, she’d followed through with it…her promise to never swim again. Back then, he’d hoped it was nothing more than a drunken rambling.
Evil, he remembered. She called it and everything that touched it evil.
His mind rushed back to that last night they’d spent together. The intensity of it. The sorrow and fear and confusion. Also, how she’d clung to him, begged him to stay. And how he’d given in. Had he made the right decision? He still wasn’t sure. All he knew was he’d done what he thought was best, and now he was living with the consequences.
“I miss it. Especially being here.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the ledge. “I mean, is there a more beautiful sight than this?” She gestured toward the ocean.
Without realizing it, he was on his feet, moving to her side. “You miss it but you’re afraid.”
She twisted her neck and tipped her chin to meet his eyes, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Yes.”
“I understand.” When she straightened and faced him, Will reached out, carefully resting a hand on her shoulder, longing to remove the sadness from her eyes—if only temporarily. He didn’t know what he could do to help. What he wanted to do was obvious, but kissing her would be helping him not her. Still, his fingers curled around the top of her shoulder, offering as much comfort as appropriate.
“What are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked.
“Type the article then email it to my editor. Hopefully it will be online tonight.”
Right. The interview. That damn devil on his shoulder was hissing now.
He nudged his arm against hers. “I hope you know how much my life is currently in your hands.” He’d said it with a light touch, but he’d never been more somber.
“I intend on making you sound both deliciously human and incredibly badass.” She nudged him back.
Not for the first time today, he felt his two personas at odds. The Will side had faith that she would keep her promise. Then he would be free to come clean with her about the rest of the story. But the shielded Chase side wasn’t ready to trust her completely…not until he’d seen exactly what she’d written.
“What about after you finish writing?” he asked.
“Driving my rental back to Honolulu, I guess.”
“You have your laptop with you?”
“In the car. Why?”
The Chase side of his brain was way ahead of his mouth. “What if I drive you down the island? You can write your article while I chauffer.”
“Really?”
“You might have more questions,” he said, the Will side justifying the scheme with logic. “And we still need to eat. There’s a taco stand along the way.”
“Sounds great. Thanks.”
“Give me a minute to change.” He pointed at the Eddie logo on his rash guard shirt. “No reason to draw attention.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I forgot who I was with for a second. You’re famous.”
Will chuckled. “Hardly. My face isn’t as recognizable when I’m not attached to a surfboard.” Without thinking, he started pulling his shirt over his head.
Chapter Five
Justine knew she was ogling him as obviously as she had that morning, but she couldn’t make herself stop. She’d seen Will without his shirt on at the beach, but there was something about being alone with him in a hotel room…with a view of the ocean and a king-size bed right there…
Not noticing her ogle, or maybe being polite and not calling attention to it, Will draped his wetsuit top over his shoulder, then disappeared around the corner. She was tempted to follow him—not wanting to miss one second of his bare chest. Instead, she sucked in a breath and turned toward the water, trying not to imagine what was going on around that corner.
A few people were on the beach. A family, maybe, with two little kids. Justine could hear their laughter and happy shrieking as they played in the surf. A sharp desire that she hadn’t felt in a long time pressed against her heart.
A few minutes later, Will reappeared in long gray board shorts and a white T-shirt. His dark hair still had those sexy windblown curls. She wondered what it would be like to twirl one of them around her finger.
“Ready?” he asked.
In the Jeep, they headed back to Waimea Bay.
“I’ll drop you here,” Will said, idling in front of her car. “There’s some empty spots up the hill. Will you come pick me up?”
She noticed the pretty good-sized crowd on the beach. Will probably didn’t want to get nabbed. Knowing that he’d rather be with her than with his adoring fans made a differ
ent pang of desire flare in her chest.
He’d been nothing but sweet to her all day—not like the bastard she’d pegged him for after he’d disappeared. And she still couldn’t get that kiss out of her mind. If she’d set out to get over her feelings for Will Davenport today, she was doing one hell of a crap job at it.
“Sure,” she said, opening the door and sliding out. She stood outside her rental and kept an eye on his Jeep, noting where he parked.
Will apparently wasn’t as stealthy as he thought, because by the time she drove up to meet him, there were five or six kids surrounding him. When he saw her pull up, he climbed out of the Jeep, gave some fist bumps, then walked to the driver’s side of her car.
“Scoot over,” he said through the open window.
“Why?”
“Because I’m driving so you can type.”
“Gotcha.”
She was about to climb over the center console when Will opened the door and held out his hand. She slid hers inside it and he pulled her to her feet. She kind of accidentally bumped into his chest on the way out. Well, maybe not so accidentally. She saw his muscles through his shirt—they’d just needed a closer, physical inspection.
As she walked around to the passenger side, she heard one of the kids behind her say, “That’s the girl he macked on after the finals.” Justine pressed her lips together, trying not to grin.
“You’re sure you have time to take off today?” she asked as they started back down the windy highway. “Don’t other people want to meet you?”
“Honestly”—he ran a hand under his chin—“there are some events I should attend, but nobody will be surprised if I don’t show.” He glanced her way. “Chase Ryder is kind of a recluse.”
“And Will Davenport isn’t?”
“Davenport has an excuse.” He flashed a smile.
“Which is?”
“He’s a computer programmer who works from home for half the year. Recluse goes with the territory.” He eyed her closed laptop. “Shouldn’t you get started?”
Justine didn’t want to stop talking to him, though. He was funny and charming, just like the guy she thought she’d been falling for back home. While they drove down the coast, she made it a point to run complicated facts by him, keeping their conversation going.
Making Waves: A Perfect Kisses Novella Page 4
