The OUT OF LINE Series

by Jen McLaughlin

  “Yeah, I have to go.” I gripped the phone tight. “I love you guys.”

  “We love you, too,” Mom said.

  Dad mumbled something that might have been I love you, but he never said it, so it was doubtful. “Bye.”

  “Bye, dear.”

  I hung up and headed outside. I needed to get down to the meeting point before Finn did, or he would see me come out of the correct building. He didn’t need to know where I lived. Didn’t need to know anything about me…yet. If he proved trustworthy, then I would tell him more. Little by little. But for now, I was just a girl who liked sitting on benches at night.

  A girl who wanted to surf.

  It was probably the one place private security couldn’t follow me. It’s not like a bunch of men in suits would blend in out there in the great big sea. As I crossed the lawn, I glanced around. No one lurked in the bushes. No one suspicious followed me. I didn’t believe my father gave in to my request to go to college minus a bodyguard, but I hadn’t seen any yet.

  Was it possible he had trusted me enough to be on my own? Doubtful. When I had gone abroad last year, it had been with not one, not two, but three security guards. He was ridiculous when it came to my safety. He’d probably installed a GPS tracking system under my skin when I was a kid. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I rounded the corner and saw Finn standing there, facing the other way and looking as sexy as I remembered. I had thought he was gorgeous last night. Holy freaking bananas. In the morning light, his sun-kissed skin glinted and highlighted his hard muscles. Muscles covered in tats that begged to be stroked…by my hands. With his brown hair in as much disarray as it had been last night, he quite easily emanated the surfer look he wore so well.

  Oh, so well.

  As I approached, he smiled at me. “You’re two minutes late, but you look pretty enough that I’ll let it slide.”

  My heart sped up at his backhanded compliment, but I refused to show it. I shrugged and said, “A girl’s gotta primp. Get used to it, Marine.”

  “Especially girls like you?”

  I stiffened. That sounded an awful lot like an insult. And even worse, it sounded as if he knew something about me that I didn’t want him to know. Did he know who I was? “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” He straightened, looking less like a laid-back surfer and more like a man. A man I didn’t know at all. Maybe this had been a bad idea. “You just look like the type of girl who likes to spend hours getting ready before she walks outside to get the mail. I mean, you’re gorgeous. Just look at you.”

  “And you look like the type of guy who makes presumptuous assumptions about other people, while keeping your own nose firmly pointed in the air.” I marched past him. “Forget it. I’ll learn how to surf with someone else.”

  He grasped my elbow as I passed, his touch burning me and yet somehow sending a shiver through my veins. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “I shouldn’t make assumptions. You’re right.”

  “Damn right I am.” I tossed my hair over my shoulder and glared at him. Turns out, this close, his eyes were even bluer. Really, really blue. “Now let me go.”

  He dropped his hand immediately and dragged it through his curls. “Can we start over? I get cranky before my coffee and say stupid things to beautiful women I’m supposed to be flirting with.”

  My lips twitched. Truth was, so did I. Well, the first part, anyway. I usually didn’t bother to hit on pretty girls since I didn’t swing that way. “Okay. Coffee, then shopping?”

  “Deal.” He motioned me forward as he walked beside me.

  “Where will we shop?” I asked.

  “At a store? I hear that’s where most people do it.”

  I laughed lightly and stopped at the coffee booth. “You’re weird.”

  “Aren’t we all in our own way?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I nudged him with my elbow. God, he was solid. “But you’re weirder than most.”

  He let me order my mocha latte before he stepped forward to order a plain black coffee. As I reached into my pocket to grab some cash for my portion of the order, he handed the barista his card. “I got you.”

  A warm flush spread through my body. No one ever paid for me. The few people I had hung out with in school had always been relying on me for purchases, but no one here knew how much money I had. No one knew my father was on the short list for presidential candidates. The anonymity was a refreshing change of pace. “Thank you. I’ll get the next one.”

  He shrugged. “If I let you have a next time. You might kill me with boredom during the shopping trip.”

  “Haha. So funny.” I grinned, then decided to get some payback for the trick he’d played on me last night. “Do you think I can find a Swarovski-encrusted surfboard? I’m willing to go in every single store in San Diego if needed.”

  “Oh, hell no.” He shot me an incredulous look and turned a little bit green. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  I blinked innocently and managed to keep a straight face. “Is that a no?”

  He grabbed our coffees and handed me the bigger one. Once I took it, he shoved his sunglasses up his nose. “No. It’s fucking fabulous.” He shot a quick look at me. “Oops. Sorry.”

  “For what? Cursing?” I laughed at the absurdity of it. Who the heck apologized for cursing? “Sometimes I say fuck too. I’m not a little kid, you know.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. How did he do that? I would have burnt my tongue. “It feels like you are at times. Like you could be my little sister or something.”

  Sister? Ouch. Guess I knew where I stood with him. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.” He looked at me. “What about you? Are you jailbait?”

  “No.” I looked down at my cup. How much should I tell him about myself? I wanted to make friends. To be normal for once, but I couldn’t be stupid. “I’m nineteen. I took a year off and went abroad before starting college.”

  He took another sip of coffee. “That’s a good idea. It’s how I would have done it, if I’d gone the college route.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries and had no idea what a friend should or should not say to that. Or if we even were friends yet. “You still could if you wanted to. Do you want to?”

  “Maybe someday, when I have time.” He laughed. “Right now? I’m good in my career field.”

  “Well, you never know. You might decide to go officer someday.”

  He shot me a weird look. “Maybe.”

  “There’s that word again.”

  “It’s a good word, especially when life is filled with maybes.” He stopped in front of a surf shop on the beach. “This would be a good place to start. I can’t promise Swarovski, but there might be something pink.”

  “I don’t do pink. It doesn’t match my hair.”

  “Heaven forbid,” he said, holding the door open for me. “We can’t have that.”

  “Darn right we can’t.” I ducked into the store and took a cautious look around. Surfboards of every imaginable color lined the left wall, while wetsuits filled up the other half. In the back, a bunch of boogie boards hung on the wood wall. Maybe boogie boarding would be a safer choice. It wasn’t too late to change my mind…

  No. Not happening.

  A blonde girl wearing a bikini underneath a transparent top stood behind the counter texting. She looked up when the bell on the door chimed, quickly assessing me before moving on to Finn—and staying there. She straightened and smoothed her hair. “Hello. Welcome to Surf’s Up. What can I do for you?”

  Finn smiled at her a little bit too widely, and his eyes dipped far too low to be staring at her face. Jerk. “My friend here needs a good beginner’s board.”

  The girl looked at me again, but quickly turned back to Finn. “The blue one in the back is good for her. Perfect size.”

  “You think?” Finn walked over to the board in question and cocked his head. I followed Finn, but pract
ically got shoved aside by the worker. I struggled to right myself before I went legs over head in the rack of wetsuits, but Finn caught my elbow without even looking my way. “You should watch where you’re going, Ginger.”

  “I told you.” I tried to pull free of his grip, but he didn’t budge. “Stop calling me that.”

  Finn looked at me. “Why? It’s cute.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me.” He dropped his hold on me and turned back to the employee, who’d been watching him as if he was her next meal. “So this will work for her?”

  The employee moved closer to Finn, brushing up against him. And Finn, the perv, didn’t move away. Of course not. He was a guy. The girl ran her fingers over the board, caressing it as if it was a person instead of an inanimate object. “Yes. The lines are smooth, and the finish flawless.”

  “What do you think, Ginger?”

  I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to correct him again. No matter what I said, he would use it. “Sold. I’ll take it.”

  Finn turned to me with wide eyes. “Really? That quick?”

  “I don’t care what it looks like. If you say it’s good, it’s good.”

  He tugged on his ear and looked at me as if I had sprouted two heads overnight or something. “All right. Next up? A suit.”

  I turned to the employee, using the no-nonsense tone Dad used when he wanted shit to get done. “I’d like a blue and white one, to match the board.”

  “Measurements?” The girl eyed me. “I’m guessing 32A?”

  Total, petty lie. I was not a 32A, and it was obvious. “No, I’m—”

  “34C,” Finn replied, grinning. “Am I right?”

  I blinked at him, taken off guard by that statement. Was it normal for a guy to know that crap? “Dude. What the heck is wrong with you? And why do you know that?”

  “I’m kind of an expert in the frontal area.” Finn grinned, and his eyes sparkled. “It’s my thing.”

  “Obviously,” I drawled, smiling.

  He shrugged. I gave the rest of my measurements to the worker, and within ten minutes we were finished shopping. I carried my wetsuit and coffee, and he carried my board for me. I headed toward the ocean, so eager to hit the water I could barely stand still, and then sat down on a bench. He eyed me, but didn’t sit. “That was a hell of a lot faster than I expected. I didn’t even bring my board with me.”

  I took a sip of my coffee and watched the waves crashing on the sand. A surfer effortlessly rode one in, and a bunch more of them bobbed out in the water. They made it look so easy. So simple. I knew it was anything but. What the heck was I thinking? I couldn’t do this, could I? If my father knew…

  I straightened my back. The hell with that. I was going for it. The fact that my father didn’t approve only made me want it more. Childish? Sure. Who cared? I was allowed a little bit of rebellion now and then. “Do you want to go to your place and get it?”

  “I could, I guess.” He looked over his shoulder toward the road. “Do you want to wait here for me?”

  “Can’t I come?”

  He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “I only have a motorcycle. I’m not sure you want to ride that.”

  A motorcycle? Hell to the yes. Dad called bikes donor cycles. Told me if I ever even thought about setting foot within ten feet of one, he’d ground me for life. I wasn’t ground-able anymore, was I? God, this freedom I now had was exhilarating. A girl could get used to this kind of life. “Oh, I’d love that.”

  “Seriously?” he asked, looking a little pale. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  I propped my hand on my hip and stood. “Why not?”

  “I only have one helmet.”

  “So what? I’ll be fine. I trust you.”

  He looked up at the sky. “You might,” he mumbled under his breath. Then he perked up. “What will we do with your board?”

  “I’ll have the store hold it for me.”

  He sighed. “I guess I’m out of arguments.”

  “I guess so,” I said cheerily, my heart accelerating at the mere thought of climbing on a bike with Finn. “Cheer up. You’re acting like my dad again.”

  He stiffened. “Stop saying that.”

  “Then stop acting like him,” I said, smiling to show I was teasing him. “You better be here when I come back out, or I’ll skin you alive.”

  I grabbed my stuff and headed toward the store. After a quick conversation with the employee, I came back out and found Finn standing there, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. I held my hand out and waited for him to take it with bated breath. I don’t know why I did that. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even friends yet. I couldn’t resist. He stared at my hand for a second, muttered something under his breath, and closed his fingers around mine. A shot of electricity skittered up my arm, making me jump slightly.

  What the heck had that been?

  His eyes darkened and something weird twisted in my belly in response. Something I was only loosely familiar with. Desire. I was a virgin, but I’d read about sex enough times to recognize the sensation. And I would bet my favorite pair of Converses that he was feeling it, too.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual.

  “So ready,” I said, peeking up at him through my lashes. “I’ve always wanted to ride one, but my dad wouldn’t let me.”

  He perked up. “Maybe we shouldn’t. You know, if your dad would be mad.”

  “Oh, please. I’m nineteen.” I tugged him toward a Harley I could only assume was his. “I’ll ride what I want to ride.”

  He groaned under his breath. “I bet you will.” When we reached the bike, he grabbed the helmet off the handle and slid it over my head. I tried to pull back, not wanting to wear the ugly thing in front of him, but he didn’t let me. “My bike. My rules. You wear the helmet.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine.” He gently slid the helmet the rest of the way down over my head, making sure to keep my hair out of my eyes as he did so. My heart did a weird little flip flop at the way he watched me, his eyes hot and his lips soft. His touch, gentle as it might seem, held a strength behind it.

  “How do I look?”

  “Perfect,” he said lightly. Then he climbed onto the bike and looked over his shoulder at me. That look he gave me was the look that so many books described. Like he was inviting me to fall into his arms and stay there forever. God, I wanted to. His muscles flexed, teasing me with his perfection. “Climb on and hold on as tight as you can.”

  I swallowed hard and slid on the back of the bike.

  One thing I knew with picture perfect clarity? The senator was going to fucking kill me for taking his precious little girl out on a bike. Skin me alive and castrate me. Hang me up as a warning to all the other low-level security officers he employed. I would deserve every second of the pending torture, because not only did I want to take her on the back of my bike—but I also wanted to take her.

  In several positions.

  The second Carrie backed me into a corner and insisted she ride my bike with me, I’d known I was fucked…but not in the good way. Just the idea of her wrapping her pretty little arms around me and squeezing those perfect 34C’s against my back made my cock hard. The reality of her pressed against me might be the death of me.

  Everything I’d thought I knew about her so far had been wrong. I’d been so sure she would turn out to be this spoiled brat who thrived on shopping, drinking, and defying Daddy. Okay, the last part might be true, but she was also more. A lot more. I wanted to get to know her better. Preferably while naked in my bed.

  No. My job was to serve. Protect. Keep my cover. And most of all? Not touch her. The bad thing was, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. For some reason, the little socialite who wasn’t really a socialite was getting under my skin, and I had to find a way to get her out before it was too late.

  If only my Glock protected against that shit.

  Carrie
slid onto the bike and wrapped her whole body against me. I bit back a groan and tried to ignore the way my cock was screaming for attention. Her legs wrapped around me, pressing against me. It would be so easy to turn around. To rip the helmet off her head and kiss her until she realized that the best way to get back at Daddy was through me.

  But that wasn’t my job.

  And that wasn’t me.

  I didn’t play the part of bad boy. Never had.

  I revved the engine to life, taking my frustration out on the throttle, and she squealed and hung on even tighter. I couldn’t tell if she was more excited or terrified. Probably an exhilarating mixture of both. The girl was getting a chance to live, and she obviously loved life.

  Grinning, I shouted over my shoulder, “Hold on tight, Ginger.”

  Her nails dug into my waist and she scooted even closer, if that was possible. My grin faded away to a grunt, and I pulled away from the curb a little too hard. She didn’t panic and cry out. Instead, she whooped. Actually whooped, for fuck’s sake.

  If she were anyone but the senator’s daughter, I would be bringing her back to my place so I could show her how to really live. How to feel more alive than ever—and I could show her every damn night if she wanted me to. I twisted the throttle and turned the corner on the PCH, letting the bike climb up in speed slowly. Instead of clinging to me for dear life, she loosened her hold on me and laughed.

  By the time we completed the short ride to my apartment, I was ready to explode with want. As I booted the kickstand into place, she hopped off of my bike and ripped the helmet off her head. Her wild red hair was a complete and utter mess, but she looked beautiful.

  She did a little dance and handed me my helmet. Her blue eyes were sparkling. Vibrant. Full of life. I couldn’t help but wonder what they would look like if I kissed her. Would she look up at me like that, with sapphires shining in her eyes? Or would they smolder and simmer, slowly heating me and making me need more?

  “That was freaking awesome,” she said, spinning in a circle. “I want to do it again and again and again.”

  My cock twitched, giving a whole new meaning to those words. “Anytime you want it, you let me know. I’ll be at your beck and call.”