Waves of Desire: Pleasure Point Series Book Three

by Jennifer Evans

  “I think so,” Eugene said.

  “It’s where you walk up to the front of your board and, just like it sounds, ride the nose, or front of your board, usually with one foot forward.”

  “You know how to do that?” Eugene said, gazing at me with wide eyes. Those eyes. I thought of my brother, and my throat constricted. I swallowed hard.

  “I’ve been in the water for as long as I can remember,” I said. “And this is my Joel Aron Tip Master longboard.” I’d saved my favorite, because it was so artistic, for last. Joel was a young kid from Capistrano Beach, and when I say young, I mean in his early twenties. He was one of the most creative surfers I’d ever met, not to mention a highly talented artist. His one-of-a-kind paintings sold for a nice chunk of change and were worth every penny. “My buddy Joel knows how to do fin-first takeoffs, headstands, helicopters, and he shapes one heck of a board.” I showed them the geometric design in bright yellow, red, blue, and purple gracing the nose of the board. “Joel says, life’s too short to go through it without color.”

  I handed out bars of Sticky Bumps cold water surf wax and showed the boys how to properly wax a surfboard.

  “I can’t wait to do this for reals when a big swell hits and I’m ready to paddle into a forty foot wave,” Nelson said.

  It would be a while before Nelson was ready for that.

  * * *

  After dinner that night, Rosalyn and I sat on the front porch, our feet gently swaying with the swing.

  “Light this for me, will you?” she said, holding her bong up to her mouth. I lit the bowl. She took a toke, held it, and blew it out. “You never told me what you were doing in Half Moon Bay.”

  “Surfing.”

  She laughed. “Why am I not surprised? Was it fun?”

  “Well, yes it was. Until—”

  “Until what?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “You remember that kid with a peg leg who used to surf Sunset Cliffs?”

  She screwed her face up. “I think so.”

  I swallowed hard. “He almost drowned that day you called. That’s part of why I was so short with you when you called. It had just happened and I was trying to get to the hospital.” A hand flew to her chest. Rosalyn listened patiently while I told her the whole story.

  Her eyes grew wide in horror, and she gripped my arm. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Yes, he’ll be okay. He trains hard for days like that.”

  “But Jax, that’s scary! He could’ve died that day. You guys have to be careful.”

  “We are.”

  “You can’t just go out there and …” She set her bong aside, put her hands on her face, and then peeked up at me and said, “And then you got the call from me. You’ve had one hell of a week.”

  “Nothing I can’t deal with.” I looked straight ahead, avoiding her gaze. I didn’t want to talk about Butch or the dangers of big wave surfing. “What’s going on with the loan you were getting from your boss?” I said. “Any luck there?”

  “Well,” She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her skirt. “It doesn’t look like he’s going to come through.”

  “How much of the cash do you have?”

  “Not much.”

  “How much is not much?”

  “I’m about eighteen thousand short.” She looked at me with those big brown eyes.

  “Oh, Roz. Will you let me help you?”

  “Only if you want to. But Jax, it’s a lot of money. Maybe not my business to ask, but how are you doing financially?”

  Most of the money I’d made from the escort service had gone to the travel I’d done to train on big waves, for rent, and my general expenses. I had a savings account, but the answer was, not great.

  I fiddled with the top button of my flannel shirt. “I do okay.”

  “I mean, how much money do pro-surfers make?”

  “We can do okay if we’re on top.” Which I wasn’t.

  “And those who are not on top?”

  “I do okay.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but Jax, you may have to raise Eugene.”

  “Don’t say that. Rosalyn, you can’t give up.”

  “But you might. And I need to know—”

  I turned to face her so quickly that I almost knocked her bong into her face. “It’s going to be fine. I have sponsorships, and I’ve got surf lessons, and I’ve got …” What did I really have? Not much. There was the $50,000 prize for the surfer who rode the biggest and best wave of the year, and I thought I had a pretty decent shot at that because I was in the best shape I’d ever been in. After Mystic Seaweed dropped me, I’d made it my business to train like a badass, and I felt confident. But that was a gamble. “I’ve got some great ideas about how I can start my own business taking surfers out on adventure surf trips.” It was something I’d been pondering for years, but hadn’t followed through on.

  She nodded slowly. “Well, that sounds cool. Think people would be interested?”

  I chuckled. “Yes, I do. I may not seem like a celebrity, but you’d be surprised how many surfers want to bro-down with a big wave surfer. I know all the spots to take them. But let’s take things one day at a time.”

  She looked at me, her eyes overly bright and feverish. “It’s all going to be okay, isn’t it?”

  I patted her knee gently. “Of course it is. I should be able to get the money together.” But it wasn’t just the money I was worried about. Rosalyn had to live. When I thought of the alternative, my throat became dry, and my stomach clenched. I would’ve done anything to turn back the clock, to have had a life where I made sure Rosalyn and Eugene were safe, to somehow protect Rosalyn from cancer. But how could I do that? I forced a smile, and when I spoke, the words barely came out. “We’ll get through this.”

  That night after everyone was asleep, I sat on my makeshift bed and made a call to Sandy Farnsworth.

  “To what do I owe this extreme pleasure?” Sandy said in her sultry voice. “And when are you coming back?”

  I smiled. “Sandy … I have a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  I sat up and combed a hand through my hair. “This is kind of important.” My eyes darted around the room. “What I’m doing in Santa Cruz is staying with an old girlfriend.”

  “But you’ve got new girlfriends. Who’s this person, and what’s the favor?”

  “Before I met you,” I said. “Actually, a lot of years before I met you, I had an affair with her. We lost contact and …” I did not want to tell Sandy all the details. It was none of her business. I put my head in my hands. “Sandy, she’s sick.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I should’ve broken off my employment with Sandy right then and there, but I didn’t. I’d handle one thing at a time, and right then, I needed the money. I told her about the situation with Rosalyn’s health and about the Trinity program. She listened patiently and then said, “Oh, Jax. I’m sorry. So, what do you need?”

  “Twenty thousand bucks. That I can pay you back with interest.” Sandy was silent. “You still there?” I said.

  She let out a low chuckle. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, but if you weren’t so goddamned hot, not to mention sweet, I would say no. You know how many sessions this is going to put you in debt?”

  “Around twenty?”

  “This is against my better judgment, but you caught me in a good mood. What else have I got to do with my money besides give it to you? Just tell me where to transfer the money, babe.”

  I fell back against the pillow, my hand covering my eyes. “Thanks, Sandy. I really owe you one.”

  “I like you, Jax, and I’ll help, but you need to pay me back.”

  “Of course I will. With interest.”

  “Interest can come in lots of forms if you know what I mean.” She was silent for a moment. “If you want to know the truth, babe, money’s made my life pretty easy. But there are some things money can’t buy.”

  “Like?”

  “Li
ke the kind of time you and I have together.” She laughed a low laugh. “I guess money has bought me that, hasn’t it? What am I trying to say? Me and the girls, we’ve gotten pretty used to having you around.”

  “It’s great for me too, but at least for now, I’ve got to take care of my old girlfriend.”

  Sandy let out a sigh. “I’ll help you, but I want that money back.”

  “Of course. I really owe you one.”

  “And I plan on collecting, surfer boy. I always get what I want. And don’t you forget it.”

  I had no idea how Sandy covered her tracks financially and in her personal life when it came to her time at the Ritz-Carlton, but it wasn’t my business.

  I gushed a few more thank-yous to Sandy and ended the call.

  I opened my Facebook app. I scrolled through and smiled when I saw that Butch had changed his profile picture. It was the photo of him and Dr. Bryant that I’d taken in front of the hospital. I texted him.

  Nice profile picture. Pretty optimistic.

  Not optimistic. Realistic. She won’t be able to resist me.

  In your dreams, buddy.

  We texted back and forth for a few minutes: stuff about the waves, how the shop was doing, about Eugene (He’s got this funny friend named Nelson), and I told him Rosalyn would be making plans to go to the Trinity Clinic soon.

  On impulse, I decided to call Butch.

  “Can’t resist the sound of my voice?” he said.

  “Hey man, will you do me a favor?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Can you go down to Sunset Cliffs and cut off a piece of the rope and mail it to me?”

  “Why do you want that?”

  I told him the rest of my idea, and he agreed to mail me a package.

  When we hung up the phone, I realized two things.

  I was definitely quitting the escort business, and I needed to break up with Holly. In person.

  Rosalyn

  There was no room in my life for luxuries like falling in love. But every time I saw Jax saunter up to the house with his surfboard tucked under his arm, his wetsuit pulled down around his waist, those broad shoulders and his powerfully developed chest … Well, everything in the world seemed brighter.

  Jax had been in Santa Cruz for about a week. He shuttled Eugene around, emptied the trash, unclogged the kitchen drain, cleaned Leo’s cat box, and even took my car in for service. He made everything easier.

  One day after work, I had extra energy, which was something I’d taken for granted when I was healthy. The chemo made me violently ill, and the drugs the oncologist prescribed were so dreadful, with side effects like nightmares, vaginal dryness, and a complete lack of sex drive, that I had quickly gotten off them. Who cared if you had a shot at curing your cancer if you couldn’t have an orgasm? I was trying to make light of the situation, but I guess the joke was on me.

  I stripped off my work clothes, pulled on a pair of cutoffs and one of Eugene’s rock band T-shirts that actually fit because of the weight I’d lost, turned up the Led Zeppelin, and danced around the kitchen while washing dishes.

  When I heard Jax walk up the steps and set his surfboard on the front porch, my pulse quickened, and my face felt hot.

  He strode into the kitchen, his wet hair smoothed back from his face and gave me one of those charming smiles of his. He snuck up behind me, grabbing me, twisting my arm gently behind my back and holding me in a vise grip. He leaned into me and put his mouth to my ear. “Hey you. I’m trying to keep from liking you again.”

  “And why do you want to keep from liking me?” I said.

  “Because you’re trouble.”

  I felt his strong body against mine. “Not any kind of trouble you can’t handle.”

  “But sometimes I’m still mad at you.”

  His breath was hot against my cheek. “You are?”

  “But I really want to be here.”

  “And I really want you to be here.”

  He let go of me, and I turned around to face him and those crazy blue eyes.

  “I’ve got good news,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I got the twenty grand.”

  I stared at him. “What did you just say?”

  “I said, I got the twenty grand.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “You did! Jax … What? How, oh my God! This is the best thing anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t know what to say.”

  “And you know what I think we should do with the money?” he said.

  “What?”

  “You and me, let’s go to Hawaii for the weekend.”

  I poked him in the chest. “You, Mr. Priest, are a comedian. Nice try. Now go get out of that wetsuit and pick Eugene up from school.” I gazed at Jax as he towered over me, a full-grown man now. I touched his arm and gave it a light squeeze. Our eyes met. “Jax, thank you … for everything.”

  He shrugged. “Man’s gotta take care of his family.”

  With the money in place, I had to tell Eugene soon. About the Trinity program, about Jax. I shivered and hugged myself. “Would you be willing to go to the clinic with me? They say I need to have a companion.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “I do.”

  “Then it’s done. It may not be Hawaii, but the website showed a picture of a swimming pool.” He grinned, grabbed an apple out of the fridge, and took a bite.

  We stood there and smiled at each other for a full minute, me in my bare feet, Jax still dripping wet from the ocean. He was close enough that I could see the stubble on his chin, the beginnings of a two-day beard. I longed to reach out and caress his jaw, touch his lips, maybe even stand on tiptoes and kiss him. I shook away the thought of how his warm tongue would feel in my mouth.

  “Get out of that wetsuit,” I scolded. “You’re dripping all over my kitchen floor.”

  He walked toward the bathroom, and I said, “Oh by the way, a package came for you.” I picked up the box from the kitchen counter and handed it to him. He accepted the parcel, and our hands brushed, an electric current passing between us. He thanked me with a smile, those engaging blue eyes alive with mischief.

  That night after dinner, it started pouring rain. Eugene cleared the table and set the dirty dishes in the sink. I jumped when a bolt of lightning lit up the kitchen window followed by a loud clap of thunder. Leo, who was drinking water from his cat bowl, tore out of the kitchen and streaked into the living room where he dove underneath the sofa.

  “Eugene,” I said, “Make sure you’ve got your raincoat and umbrella for school tomorrow. Looks like a big storm.”

  “Jeez mom, I can handle it. What happens if I get wet? I’m not gonna melt.”

  “But you need to stay warm.”

  Eugene looked to Jax for support, and Jax gave a little shrug, a worried look, and pointed at me like I was a crazy lady.

  “And don’t you try to save him.” I smacked Jax with my kitchen towel.

  “The kid can handle a little rain, can’t you?” Jax said.

  Eugene finished setting the dishes in the sink then retreated to his bedroom where the door promptly closed.

  “Guess we’re dismissed for the night,” I said, handing Jax the kitchen towel. “Help me dry the dishes, will you babe?”

  We stood side by side in companionable silence, and it felt like we really were a family. Admittedly, a bit of an odd family.

  When the kitchen was clean, I made sure Eugene completed his homework, brushed his teeth, and cleaned under his fingernails. Jax retired to his makeshift bed on the sofa with a surfing magazine. Then I showered and slipped into a comfy, oversized T-shirt and a pair of panties.

  I padded to the kitchen for a glass of water, and when I passed Jax on the way to bed, he looked up from his magazine. “How are the sleeping accommodations?” I said.

  He smiled. “Better than what I’m used to, which is a sleeping bag.”

  “You do not sleep in a sleeping bag,” I said. “Do you?”

&nb
sp; Jax chuckled. “Nah, not really. Just a mattress on the floor.” He patted the sofa. “This thing’s like a pillow top mattress compared to that.”

  I gazed at Jax. “When are you getting a decent bed?”

  He looked at me with amusement. “Who needs a bed when I’ve got all those great surfboards? Priorities ma’am.”

  I stood there for a moment. “Well, goodnight then.” He gave me a little salute.

  Entering my room, I cozied into bed with a book and pulled my feather comforter up around me. I’d been reading for about twenty minutes and was just getting to the exciting part of my book when I heard a light tap on my door.

  “Come in.”

  Jax strode into my bedroom. He was bare-chested, and I was entranced by the way his jeans hung low on his hips. He went straight to the window and closed it. “Heck of a storm. Water’s getting in.” He shut the curtains. “There. You’re safe now.”

  “What do you want?” I asked, setting my book aside. “I’m reading, if you don’t mind.”

  He smiled at me and said, “I’m afraid of the storm, and Leo can’t help me.” And then he slid into the bed next to me, making my side of the bed bounce up.

  I smacked him with my book. “Big baby.”

  “Rosalyn?”

  “What?”

  “Will you show me what they did to you after the mastectomy?”

  “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” I hadn’t shown my breasts to anyone.

  He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow, those long legs of his causing his feet to hang off the edge of the bed. “Please?”

  “I don’t know if—”

  “Please?” He toyed with the hem of my T-shirt. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. I crossed my legs and shifted uncomfortably.

  “Why do you want to see them? They’re not that interesting.”

  “Because,” he said, gazing at me with those mesmerizing eyes. “Because I think they did a good job from what I can see through your T-shirt. And I still think you’re sexy.”