My body filled with heat and any peace I’d gained with Father Timothy left. Someone was threatening Lola. I gritted my teeth. “The leader?”
“One of them takes over and gets the rest of them worked up.”
“Did you get hurt?”
“Just scraped my knee a little.”
My nostrils flared, and I felt like storming over to the school right that second and finding out who this kid was. “Let me see your knee.”
She lifted her jeans, and when I saw the bloody mess, I nearly hit the ceiling. “That’s not a little scrape! Why didn’t you tell me until now?”
She peeked up at me. “Daddy, will you teach me how to fight?”
“No! I’ll take care of you.”
“But you don’t go to school with me.”
My fists clenched and unclenched. “Then I’ll go to the school. I’ll find out who that kid’s parents are and I’ll …”
Lola grabbed my fists and stilled them. “Daddy, no. You’re not going to beat anybody up.”
I let out a huge exhale. “I’ll go to the principal and demand …” I kicked the beach so hard that sand flew through the air and a flock of seagulls scattered. “Filho da puta!”
Lola put her arms around me. “Stop. You’re getting yourself all worked up.” Her voice was low. “If you try to talk to them, somebody’s gonna get hurt.” Tears filled her eyes. “Not only that, nobody cares. The school won’t do anything.” Her brown eyes were pathetically sad. “Please, Papai? Teach me?” I stared at Lola. Her eyes were so heartbreakingly sweet and pathetic.
I forced my breathing to slow down. “Let’s sit.” We sat down. I pulled my knees up to my chest and stared toward the horizon. “You already know how much trouble I’ve gotten into fighting.”
“Those people deserved it.”
“No. They didn’t.” I gazed at my daughter and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, maybe some of them did.” I exhaled heavily. “But you need to know how powerful fighting is.” My lips formed a firm line. I stared at the sea and circled my arms around my knees. “Fighting has gotten me into a lot of trouble.”
“You only fought when you needed to.”
I looked down at my feet. “That’s not true.” I didn’t want to tell Lola every story of the fights I’d had over the years—jealousy over girlfriends, perceived injustices over other surfers cutting me off on a perfect wave. My neck tightened and I rubbed at the tense muscles. “When I was a teenager I got kicked off the pro tour for beating up another surfer.”
“You never told me that.”
There was plenty I hadn’t told Lola. She already knew how passionate and irate her father could become. “It was a stupid fight. The guy wasn’t hurt bad. But they take that stuff seriously. When they finally brought me back, I kept my temper in check until …”
Lola put her arm around me. “Daddy, you only punched that judge because he took the points away. I saw you surf that day.” She held her chin high. “You were way better than every other surfer out there.”
I gave my daughter a shaky smile. “They don’t tolerate that on the tour. You need to understand what happens if you decide to haul off and wallop somebody.”
Lola threw her head back and laughed. “Wallop? You’re the one who’s sounding more American every day.” Her face became serious. “I need to learn to protect myself. What if those kids try to hurt me again?”
The thought of anyone harming my daughter caused a sour taste to fill my mouth. I was going to have to teach Lola to defend herself. I dragged my fingers through my hair over and over. “If I teach you a few basic moves, you have to promise me you’ll only use it in emergencies.” My heart beat heavily in my chest, and I ran my fingers through my hair again.
Lola looked at me a few moments and then she laughed. “Look at your hair.” She reached out to smooth it down. “It’s sticking up all over the place.” She screwed up her face. “You look funny.”
God, I loved my daughter. She had spunk, charisma and she was smart. Surely she wouldn’t hit someone unless it was absolutely necessary.
When we got home, I took her into the garage where we kept our surfboards, my workout equipment and my punching bag. “The first thing I need you to understand is that fighting is your last resort.”
Lola set her backpack aside and sprinted over to the punching bag then threw a few ineffective punches, bouncing on her toes. “I’ll jab ’em with my right, then my left.”
“Slow down Mohammed Ali; I need to teach you a few techniques.” I stilled the swinging bag and put my hands on Lola’s shoulders. “Listen to me because this is important.”
Her brown eyes widened, and I wanted to hug her and protect her from the evils of the world. “Yes, Papai?”
“First you avoid the enemy. Got it?”
“But they won’t leave me alone.”
“Then you try to talk to them. And I don’t mean yelling and screaming like you’ve been doing.”
“But they don’t listen.”
“If neither of those things work, then and only then, if one of them actually gets physical with you like last time, then you have my permission to whale on this kid.” Lola smiled the biggest smile I’d seen all day. “Okay. What’s the leader’s name?”
“Justice.” I pictured one of the entitled wealthy La Fortuna kids. Justice. Just the trendy type of name the locals gave their daughters.
I held the punching bag. “See this thing? I want you to imagine it’s Justice.”
And so our training began. I was a bit nervous about teaching Lola to fight, but the thought of my baby not being able to protect herself against these bullies was unacceptable. “We’re the Cortes family,” I said. “And a Cortes knows how to stand tall, right?”
“Right,” she said as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “Nobody messes with a Cortes.”
“Only in emergencies, right?”
She danced around the punching bag with sure steps. “Only in emergencies, Papai.”
Chapter Seven
Coco
“How’s it going with Dominick?” Rhys said. The way he drew Dominick’s name out in a long teasing manner made me feel like we were in grade school again.
We were sitting in our favorite hangout, The Grind and Gossip Coffee House. It was a real local’s place in the center of town. I loved the artsy décor done in hues of deep purples and gold and the local artwork. Paintings in vibrant orange, greens and blues graced the brick walls. There were even a few metal sculptures, depictions of lovers embracing and one of a mermaid emerging from the ocean.
I took a long, satisfying sip of my organic coffee with soymilk, set the cup down and smiled. “Great. My next appointment’s today. Spiritual cleansing, baby.”
He eyed me up and down. “You’d better change out of that outfit.” He took in my comfy jeans that were so worn they were nearly threadbare and my white T-shirt with the om symbol. “On second thought, don’t make yourself too sexy.”
“Oh, I definitely plan on changing.” I pointed a finger at my chest. “This lady knows how to scrub up and make a man drool.”
Rhys chuckled and his gaze strayed to the coffee counter. “See that guy over there?” I swiveled my head around. “Don’t make it so obvious.” He grasped my arm. “Don’t stare.”
The barista was new to The Grind and Gossip. He was a handsome blond with a small hoop earring in one ear. “What about him?” Rhys had a faraway look in his eyes. “You like him? Can’t say I blame you, he’s cute.”
“We both need to get some action.”
I sat forward and sipped the last of my drink. “And that’s exactly what I plan on doing today.”
“If you get that Brazilian to break by session number two, I’ll buy you a double cappuccino before you leave for Canyon Ranch.”
“His name is Dominick.”
“I know his name is Dominick. When’s the wedding date, Ms. Confident?” His gaze strayed to the barista. “You go suffer with tha
t Brazilian. I’m ordering another coffee.”
* * *
When I got home, I stripped off my comfy clothes and donned a form-fitting sundress that made my ass look fantastic. I pulled my breasts up and out of the low cut top, squeezing them together, so my boobs looked extra luscious. I carefully applied my makeup, smearing on a light red lipstick and applied a spritz of my favorite perfume. I topped the outfit off with my Tiffany necklace—the one with three silver starfish—then brushed my long black hair until it gleamed. I pulled on a pair of strappy sandals, grabbed my floppy sun hat and made the walk to Dominick’s.
It was another sunny day, and I figured the four-block walk would clear my head and give me a chance to think.
I pulled the hat strategically and stayed in the shade as much as possible as I walked, wondering if this bet was such a great idea. Of course, it was! What did I have to look forward to in life? My anti-aging boutique did extremely well and I made fantastic money, but where was the love relationship? I hadn’t thought this way for a long time, but wouldn’t it be nice to come home to someone other than Victor Jose?
My life centered on my happy clients; women who were only too willing to hand over their hard-earned cash in the name of beauty. I helped these women as much as I helped myself. Looking and feeling good about our bodies was the way to achieve true happiness. I always told my clients, “If you look good, you feel good. If you feel good, you do good. If you’ve got a healthy body, you’ll have a successful life.”
A long, happy life.
What people didn’t understand was that if you failed to treasure your body, it would end too quickly. Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of my mother. Every daughter needs a mommy, and I missed mine. Anger coiled up my spine as I remembered her blatant disrespect for life.
I lifted my chin. I led a full, productive life.
I planned on living to a hundred years old and milking my life for all it was worth.
Nothing would stop me from living forever.
I stopped in front of Dominick’s home and smiled. It was a charming clapboard cottage set right by the ocean. A large porch graced the entryway and his sign “The Psychic Surfer” stood in the well-tended front lawn. A skateboard lay at the bottom of the steps, and healthy rose bushes in colors of pink, red and white hugged the front porch. I took a deep breath, walked up the steps and knocked.
When Dominick answered, I gasped. His tall frame filled the doorway, his jeans hung low on his hips, and his olive-skinned chest was bare. I tried not to stare at his finely sculpted chest, shoulders and arms. His dark hair had that bed head look, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. My gaze traveled down his faded jeans to his bare feet, then back up to his eyes.
He smiled broadly, and his green eyes lit up. He stood aside and gave a grand sweep of his arm. “Come on in.” I took a few steps into the cozy living room. “Give me a minute. I just got back from surfing. Some tea?”
“Sure. Whatever you’ve got is fine.”
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lola! Come get Miss Coco some tea.”
A young girl who looked on the verge of teenage years bolted out of the kitchen. She wore a pair of cutoff jeans that were practically ripped to shreds, a Rolling Stones T-shirt, a profusion of silver bangles around her wrist mixed in with some leather rope bracelets. She gave me a huge grin. “Hi. I’m Lola. What’s your name?” Her large brown eyes held my gaze as she extended her hand. Lola must’ve taken after her mother because, aside from the fact that she looked like she tanned easily, she was a blond bombshell in the making. Flowing blond hair, big brown eyes, and golden hued skin.
I smiled at this sweet beauty, her young face shiny and filled with enthusiasm. “I’m Coco.”
“Pleased to meet you, Coco. That’s such a pretty name. Reminds me of a warm drink. Hot cocoa is so good on a cold night, don’t you think?” She touched my arm. “But your skin is so smooth and light. You don’t look like cocoa at all. Why did your mother name you that?”
Dominick, who was halfway down the hall, turned midstride. “Lola. Stop annoying our guest and get her tea. Please?” He smiled and shrugged.
Lola gave me a happy smile. “Chamomile, green tea or peppermint?”
“I’ll take chamomile, honey.”
She bowed deeply, and her long hair fell in her face. “Coming right up.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, and I wandered around the living room. A large brick fireplace stood on one end of the room, and a picture window showcased the expanse of the Pacific Ocean. I stared at the ocean feeling the immensity and strength of the sea filling my body with life.
I gazed around the room. A pair of Lola’s bright pink Converse high-tops stood by the door, her backpack next to it. Someone had taken a black magic marker and written “Mi Vida Loca” on the canvas. The living area was dedicated to the psychic business—a large painting of a winged angel against a lavender backdrop stood sentinel over the oak table. Crystals covered the table—every type of crystal—some rough cut, others polished to a high shine. One had even been carved into the shape of a heart.
“Ready?” I nearly jumped when I heard Dominick’s deep voice. I turned around and was struck again by the way his presence filled the room. There was no mistaking when Dominick was around because the air seemed to crackle with electricity, almost enough that it could probably be measured. His eyes took a leisurely tour of my body, starting at my face, moving down to my legs, my feet, back up to my breasts where they lingered a while then snapped back up to my face.
“Here’s your drink.” Lola bustled into the room and stood by my side, taking my arm and leading me to the table. Dominick pulled the chair out for me, and I sat. “Now you sit here, and my dad will take good care of you. Isn’t that right, Papai?” She winked at her father, and my face grew warm. She set the steaming mug in front of me. “My dad is the best card reader in the whole world, so whatever you need to know, or if you’ve got any problems, he’ll help you.”
Dominick sat up straight and picked up his tarot cards. “Thank you, Lola. That will be all for now.” She stared at me, then at her dad, then at me, then at her dad again. “Homework, young lady.”
Lola touched my shoulder. “If you need anything, like more tea, you let me know.” She smiled that adorable smile and was off.
Dominick looked at me with a slight smile. “She gets carried away sometimes.”
I couldn’t stop ogling Dominick. I ached to reach out and touch his arm but I forced myself to play it cool. “She’s lovely. And very helpful too.”
“Yep. We’ve been in the business together a little over a year now. She’s made it her business as much as mine.”
He took a deep breath, set the cards down and rubbed his hands together briskly, then waved his hands over the cards. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to focus on today?”
Chapter Eight
Coco
The words came out before I had a chance to censor myself. “How about if you do a future reading and tell me I’m going to meet a tall, dark, handsome man?”
His hands stopped midway over the cards and his eyebrows raised. “A gorgeous woman like you doesn’t need a psychic to tell her that men will flock to her.”
One hand flew to my mouth to suppress a nervous laugh. “I was just teasing.” I crossed my legs, so that my dress hiked up close to my crotch and the sheer panties I wore. His gaze strayed to my legs, then down to my feet before he snapped his head up again. “How about a general reading like we did the other day?”
“That would be fine, but is there a question you have?”
I was here to win the bet.
How could I tell Dominick what my real questions were?
Would I ever have a family?
Would I meet someone different than David who captured my heart and then stomped all over it?
Would I live forever?
Or would my life be cut short like my mother’s?
Instead, I said, “
I’ve just felt the need to connect with the angels.” I sat forward, gazing into his startling green eyes. “I’ve been meditating with them and it helps me feel centered.” Total baloney, but now that I was here there was no denying that this bet was turning out to be the most fun I’d had in a very long time.
He sat back and cleared his throat. “You relax, take deep breaths and we’ll ask the spirits for guidance.” He held the deck and tapped it three times with his knuckles. Then he passed the cards from one hand to another and shuffled them. His eyes closed. “Thank you, dear angels, for blessing us with your presence and guidance. Thank you for the insight. We’re happy to work with you. Thank you for your accurate messages.” He took another deep breath and I delighted in watching his sexy chest expand. “What does Coco need to know?” He opened his eyes and laid three cards out in front of him. His fingers brushed the center card. “The five of fire.” I leaned forward and inspected the card. “This represents conflicting goals. There’s something in you that you don’t trust. You want two things and you’re not sure which to choose.” He gazed at me. “Are you centered?”
“Yes.”
The room became silent as I looked into Dominick’s seductive eyes. I longed to lean forward and kiss his full lips and stroke his chiseled cheekbones. I needed to feel the stubble of his two-day beard scratch my chin as he buried his tongue in my mouth. I yearned to run my fingers through his dark, luxurious hair, to see if it felt as wild as it looked. I itched to lose my fingers in that mane and pull his head into mine in a long, wet kiss.
He blinked. “I’d like you to ask the angels a question.”
Transfixed by his handsome face my eyelids fluttered and I forced myself to pay attention. “Will I find true love?” A heat crept up my chest and I placed one hand over my heart in an attempt to soothe the fire.
He gave me a crooked grin. “Let’s ask.” His long fingers and capable hands expertly shuffled the cards. “Will Coco find true love?” He placed another card in front of him. It depicted an angel dressed in a flowing violet sheath playing a flute. “This is the card of perfect timing.” He stroked the card and leaned in closer to me until the heat of his body was inches from mine. “Now is the perfect moment for you to act on your inspiration. All of the ingredients are ripe for your success. A positive outcome is assured.”
Sea of Seduction: A Single Dad Sports Romance Page 5
