Making Waves: A Perfect Kisses Novella

by London, Ophelia

  He couldn’t go on right away, but looked out toward the sky to watch a pair of birds, stalling. “Earlier that night,” he finally continued, “when we were still at your apartment, you told me something. You said you would never step foot in water again. You swore you wouldn’t go near it, that it was evil, your enemy. I understand that—it took away your best friend. You were sad and angry, and you were afraid.” He exhaled a long breath, remembering how her words had affected him and his decisions that followed.

  “After that, I couldn’t tell you about being Chase, Juss. I didn’t know how to say that I spent half my life as a surfer, in the ocean. You were hurting so much. So I didn’t say anything about it, I just took you to my bedroom. After a while, you passed out.” He lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know, maybe it was the wrong thing to do. I thought leaving a note was for the best.”

  “You thought sleeping with me and then leaving a note was best?”

  He jerked his chin up, staring at her. What?

  Suddenly, he understood the distrust he’d seen in her eyes all day, the hostility in her voice when she’d first seen him at the beach. Yes, the not knowing had been haunting her way more than the truth ever could.

  “We didn’t sleep together, Justine.”

  She blinked, confusion crinkling her brow. “When I woke up in your bed, I was naked.”

  “Well, yeah.” Will exhaled and pressed his lips together. “You were rain soaked by the time I got you inside. I was afraid you’d get sick, so…”

  “So, you undressed me?”

  He couldn’t answer for a moment, trying to fight a very inappropriate smile. “Actually, you didn’t need any help with that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I tried to help you off with your shirt, you started stripping on your own…and singing Madonna.”

  Justine dropped her chin and groaned. Will couldn’t help chuckling under his breath.

  “When you finished with all your clothes, you started on mine.”

  “Oh no.” She threw her hands over her face and groaned louder.

  “For being tanked, you were surprisingly determined. And strong.”

  She dropped her hands and stared up at the sky. “Okay, I am officially dying of humiliation.”

  “Don’t.” Will chuckled and touched her arm, knowing she was feeling unnecessary embarrassment. After all, he could have stopped her sooner than he had that night. So the fault was partially his. His memory was crystal clear about how Justine had looked right then. Despite her pitiful state, he’d been as captivated as ever.

  “I only let you get my shirt off before I came to my senses.”

  “Well, thanks for that,” she said with a laugh and wiped the corner of her eye. “So nothing…happened?”

  He took a step toward her, making sure she looked him in the eyes. “Nothing,” he said. “But that’s not all.”

  Chapter Seven

  Justine was wringing her hands behind her back. Seriously, she didn’t think she could take anything else embarrassing. If Will’s account for that night got any worse, she could never show her face again.

  “You were about to pass out,” he continued. “So I picked you up and laid you on my bed.”

  She waited for the punch line, but it didn’t come. “And then what? You said there was more.”

  “Did I mention how determined you were?” He pulled at the neck hole of his T-shirt. This might’ve been the only time since she’d first seen him on the beach that he looked uncomfortable. “Of course,” he continued, “I didn’t have to. I could have pinned your hands behind your back, but it seemed easier just to do what you asked.”

  She felt another rush of oncoming humiliation. “What did I ask?”

  “If I would lie beside you.”

  “In your bed?”

  He nodded and slid his hands in his back pockets. “You scooted over and made room. You were very hospitable.”

  “I’m a polite drunk.”

  “I didn’t touch you, Justine. Once you were asleep, I moved to a chair, but I never left. I would have dressed you in my pajamas but”—he paused to shrug—“I don’t have any.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Nice detail.”

  And one that might haunt me for the rest of my life.

  “So, that’s why you didn’t tell me about being Chase Ryder?” she asked, filling the final holes in her memory, thanks to Will. “Because of Anna and what I said about hating the water? Was that why you disappeared?”

  He nodded. “I was leaving for Australia in two weeks—the start of the winter surfing season. That’s the reason I was going to tell you that night. But then…I didn’t want my life to be a constant reminder of your loss.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing. “I was also afraid you wouldn’t trust me after you found out I’d practically kidnapped you and kept you stashed away in my bed.”

  His words made her flush again. “To keep me from running through the streets naked in the rain.”

  He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “And thank you for that visual.” As he lifted his eyes, they pointed toward the ocean. There was that expression again—the longing. She felt a similar pull when she turned her own gaze to the water.

  When she was a little girl, her mother used to call her the little mermaid because of how often she requested to go to the community pool. She’d always been something of a tadpole and had never grown out of it. Anytime a friend invited her to the lake or a pool, Justine was the first off the diving board.

  She leaned forward against the railing so she could get a better view of the beautiful wide, blue expanse.

  “What?” Will asked.

  She hadn’t realized she’d sighed aloud.

  “Is there something else wrong?”

  Something else? Where should I begin? she felt like replying, torn between a lifetime of joy and the year-old phobia.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” Will agreed, resting a hand on the railing beside hers, their pinkies touching. “Do you want to take a walk to the water?”

  She felt a natural jolt of excitement, but on its heels…

  It was stupid, but she couldn’t help picturing the waves back at North Shore, how huge they were—huge enough to pull them both under.

  “No,” she replied.

  “The swells you saw up north are nothing like the ones down here,” Will said, as if he’d read her mind, or maybe he was reading the alarm on her face. “Ecosystems change around the shorelines of the whole island. The waves are highest at the top—which is why the surfing competitions are up there. The farther south you go, the smaller the waves. There are spots on Waikiki with no waves at all, almost like a lake.”

  “Really?” The new set of flutters in her stomach momentarily overshadowed the negative. Maybe it was time to face her fear. She didn’t like the idea of anything scary controlling her life. She was way too independent for that.

  “Do you think you’ll ever want to swim again?”

  She was about to blurt out a kneejerk answer of no, but didn’t this time. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. Because she really didn’t. She used to play in the water until she was pruny. It had been a huge part of her life. The shock and raw grief over losing Anna so tragically had passed, but that didn’t automatically make her brave.

  “I don’t know,” she repeated.

  When Will sighed, she glanced at him. “There’s a spot I know,” he said. “One of those places I was telling you about.”

  “Little waves?”

  He nodded and ran his pinky over hers.

  Justine’s heart started to pound from the combination of his simple touch and the thought of actually getting in the water. She honed in on the horizon, the farthest sliver of ocean, letting her mind wander. It wandered too far—jumping to worst-case scenario, like always—and she jerked her hand away.

  “You don’t have to decide now,” Will said, obviou
sly sensing the return of her anxiety. “But I’d love to go for a swim, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Of course I won’t keep you from swimming. I just don’t know if I can.”

  His kind brown eyes studied her for a moment. “Did you bring a bathing suit with you today?”

  She shook her head. She hadn’t even brought one to Hawaii.

  “Okay, let’s go then,” he said, and pushed back from the railing, heading toward the stairs.

  “Where?” she asked, grabbing her laptop and following him toward the car.

  “There’s a store down the road.”

  The second he opened the passenger door for her, Justine’s hands and feet felt icy and heavy. All of her was suddenly cold. Scared. “No, wait—”

  “It’s okay. We’ll baby-step this thing. It’s up to you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “We won’t say you’re going to swim, but you will need a suit if we’re going to the beach. That’s logical, not scary.”

  “Right.” She nodded twice. “Not scary.”

  Will helped her into the car, then climbed in and started the engine. “And I do remember how much you enjoy shopping,” he said, sliding on his sunglasses.

  She laughed and felt the tension in her shoulders loosen…just a bit. “This is true.”

  Chapter Eight

  How long did it take to try on a bathing suit? Justine had been in the dressing room for a very long time. For a second, Will wondered if she’d climbed out a window and fled on foot. He hoped this little experiment wasn’t freaking her out.

  Once he was sure she was really behind the dressing room door, he wandered around the small store, flipping over the one touristy postcard that bared his surfer name. He was never more grateful for his careful, incognito identity than right now. The last thing Justine needed was pressure. If he was going to help her through this, it was all about nice and easy.

  And he wanted to help. He couldn’t take away her loss, but maybe there was something he could give her.

  “Any luck?” he said, moving to her dressing room.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied as her door swung open. “What do you think?”

  Thinking wasn’t something Will was able to do right then, because when Justine stepped out of her dressing room wearing a teeny-tiny red bikini, every drop of blood rushed from his brain and headed south.

  “Um, nice,” he managed to garble. “Very umm…”

  “It’s not too much?” She pivoted around to display her back half.

  Hooooly hell.

  Will’s pulse went into maximum overdrive, his helpless gaze glued on the tiny sliver of red fabric that could hardly be considered a bathing suit bottom.

  “Umm. Shhhyoob…” When it was probably obvious he couldn’t form a complete sentence, Justine turned to face him. A second too late, his eyes darted to hers. He hadn’t the damndest idea what his expression looked like, though he was pretty sure he resembled a horny teenager drooling over the cover model on the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue…live and in person and smelling like springtime.

  “Judging by your reaction, I’m thinking too much.” She stepped back into the dressing room. “I’ll try another.”

  It wasn’t until her door latched that Will was able to take a breath. Damn it, the girl was sexy. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? He took a deep inhale and swiped a shaky hand across his forehead. Maybe getting her practically naked wasn’t such a great idea. He was doing this to help her, not seduce her.

  How much help would he be if he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands away?

  A few minutes later, Justine’s door opened again, slowly this time, as if she didn’t want to startle him. She wore a deep blue suit, a two-piece, but not nearly as tiny as the red one. Will was grateful for that. She was as stunning as ever, but at least he could breathe.

  “I like it,” he said steadily, though his heart was still doing a pretty decent imitation of a jackhammer.

  “Yeah?” She blinked up at him, her eyes looking even bluer against the color of the suit.

  “Yes, definitely,” Will added. “That’s a keeper.”

  A keeper? What the hell?

  “Okay.” She smiled and tugged at her hair. “I’m going to need a towel. Would you pick one out for me?”

  Will swallowed and nodded mechanically, then stared at the outside of the dressing room door after Justine closed it. When he heard the sounds of clothing being removed and saw the shadow of her body behind the door, he swallowed again, turned on his heel, and got the hell out of there.

  He strode toward the row of beach towels by the far wall, blindly reached out and grabbed the first one he came to. He was about to walk to the cash register when he took a look at it. It was hideous orange and had a cartoon whale in the middle. Hmm, not so much.

  So he returned to the rack and did some browsing. He decided on an oversized white towel with pink, aqua, and yellow paisleys. It felt like Justine: classy and feminine, retro and California. He couldn’t help imagining wrapping it around her then holding her against him.

  “Is that for me?” she asked, back in her yellow dress, the blue bikini draped over her arm. “I love it. It’s so cute.”

  Cute wasn’t what he’d been shooting for, but he was pleased she approved. “You’ll want to change into your suit, right?”

  She stopped walking and stared straight ahead. “Now?”

  “Baby steps,” he said, hoping he hadn’t spooked her out of it. “All you’re doing is putting on a bathing suit. You did that two minutes ago. The only difference is, now it’s yours.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Okay.” She turned to the cashier and asked if she could use the dressing room one more time. Will stood by the exit, holding her towel. A few minutes later, Justine called to the cashier.

  While he waited, Will pulled his cell out of his pocket to check messages. There were about a million emails sent to his Chase Ryder address. He probably shouldn’t have taken off like this, but he didn’t care. Spending time with Justine was more important—he felt that now more than ever.

  “Ready?”

  He looked up to see Justine before him. She wore the blue bikini top and one of those sarong things around her waist. It was white and sheer and tied in a knot right below her belly button, showing off her curvy hips and flat stomach. She also had a bright pink flower tucked behind an ear. He didn’t know how her beauty managed to stun the hell out of him again, but it did.

  “You fit right in here,” he said, touching the flower. “Like you were born this way.” He held the door open and her shoulder brushed against him as she exited the store.

  “Are we…you know…right now?” she asked after they were back into the car. She looked a little pale and he noticed her fists were clenched and one knee bounced up and down.

  “We’re going to drive for a while,” he said, hoping to calm her mood. “Nothing to worry about.”

  She stared at the dashboard, not blinking. Out of impulse, Will put a hand on her knee. He felt her body freeze but then the bouncing started again. After a moment, it stopped and she exhaled. “Okay. I’m okay. Let’s drive.”

  Will didn’t think she really was okay, but he’d have to take her word for it. “See if you can find some Taylor Swift on the radio, would you?” He grinned and was relieved when she unclenched her fists and grinned back.

  “Isn’t there a station that plays all tropical music?”

  “I think so.” Will worked his way up the dial until he found it. “You’re in luck. Sugar Ray.” He turned up the volume and sang along.

  Justine burst out laughing. “You really are a pop fan. And a terrible singer!”

  “Shh—no killing the groove while I’m driving.”

  Will was happy to sacrifice any shred of coolness he had left if that distracted her from what was coming. It was another thirty minutes down to the spot he had in mind. Along the way, he pointed out landmarks and secret coves only locals knew about, doing
his best to keep her occupied. He was keeping himself plenty occupied as well, because every time Justine shifted in her seat, the damn slit of that white sarong exposed additional mileage of her toned thigh. More than once, he had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road.

  When he slowed the car and pulled off to the shoulder, Justine asked, “Why are we stopping?”

  He knew she knew why, but he answered anyway. “We’re walking to the beach. Grab your towel.”

  “Okay.” Her moves out of the car were hesitant, but at least she wasn’t wrapping her arms around the steering wheel and refusing to budge.

  Will grabbed his own towel from the trunk and together, they walked toward the beach.

  “Is this private?” she asked, pointing at the big, white hotel to their left.

  A little notch of worry sliced between her eyes, making Will think she might need another round of distracting later. “This stretch of beach is for hotel guests, but I happen to know it’s pretty empty this time of year.”

  “How?”

  “I used to come out here a lot when I was a teenager. I wasn’t much into partying like the locals my age, so this was where I liked to hang out with a friend or two. No surfing, because, like I said, the waves are crap.”

  He heard Justine exhale, and they continued to walk. It was a warm and sunny late afternoon, and just as he’d counted on, there were only a few other people occupying this stretch of sand. The water seemed perfect, too; only the tiniest of breakers curling toward the shore.

  Justine halted a good ten yards from the water. “I think we should stop here,” she stated, then began to spread out her towel.

  “Good spot,” Will said, even though the distance from there to the water was more than conservative. This might be harder than he thought. But his plan was this: the longer she sat under the sun, sooner or later, she’d want to cool off. It would happen, he just had to be ready.

  He spread out his towel beside hers, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the sand, then took a few steps toward the water, trying to make out if there were any drop-offs or dips in the sand that might freak her out unnecessarily. When he heard her suck in a breath, he swiveled his head to find her staring at his back.