The club had a small dance floor, and the eager crowd was up and on their feet, some of them singing along with the lyrics, everybody swaying and gyrating to the music. Troy and Lydia danced in a way that would’ve put some of those dirty dancers to shame. Those two were one of those couples that most people love to hate. They displayed a sickeningly-sweet love that made it seem like they’d just met.
We sat at the table, and Jax stared at me, those blue eyes making me squirm. I tapped my foot. I knew I had to say something. Above the din of the music, I whispered in his ear. “Jax? You didn’t say anything to Tyler, did you?”
“Think I’m nuts? Of course not.”
“Why was he so nosy at dinner?”
“Heck if I know. That’s Tyler.”
I knew I’d ventured into dangerous territory by what I had done to Jax. But the thing of it was, I knew I couldn’t take it back. I looked at Jax, this young man who was so eager to please everyone around him. He had a sincere face, not to mention a pair of faded jeans that hung low around his hips and a surf T-shirt that fit snugly over his chest.
I took a long sip of my beer, and inspected my manicure while leaning back in my chair. I looked around the bar and said, “Well, what the hell are we doing sitting here like a couple of stiffs? Let’s dance.”
“Me? Dance? I don’t know how.”
“There’s nothing to it. You just follow my lead.”
He stared at me.
“You in?” I said.
“So long as I don’t step on your feet.”
“You won’t.” I stood up. “Let’s go.”
He smiled, stood up, and secured my arm through his. He was warm and strong. I was hyperaware of every touch.
The band played a slow ballad, Tyler’s deep, sexy voice causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. Once we were on the dance floor, Jax slipped his arms around me.
“Is this okay?” he whispered.
His powerful chest pressed up against my breasts, and his heart felt like a bird trying to escape its cage.
“Yes, fine.”
I didn’t know if this was such a good idea because I could feel myself getting aroused. Jesus! I buried my head into the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply of his masculine scent, which reminded me of the ocean.
“You feel good,” he said.
The music swelled, and the room spun. Jax slowly trailed his hands down my back, and next thing I knew, his hands were just above my butt. I slid his hands up. “Slow down there buddy.”
“Hey,” he whispered into my ear. “About what happened—”
No!
I quickly pulled away and put one finger to his lips. “Nothing happened.”
I had to get away from Jax. Adrenaline surged through my system, and I whirled around and pushed through the crowd. I took a few steps, making my way back toward our table. But before I reached the table, I tripped over someone’s leg and went flying. My arms stretched out in front of me as I fell to the sawdust-covered floor. And then there was Jax. He caught me around the waist. I turned and stared into those mesmerizing eyes.
“Rosalyn! Are you okay? You gotta watch yourself.”
Jax helped me back to our table, his arm around me. “Lean into me.” I’d hurt my ankle, and I could feel it swelling.
“Jesus, Rosalyn, you’re limping. Put your foot up on this chair.” I sat down, and he examined my ankle with alarm. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? It looks like it’s bruised.” He touched my ankle.
“Ouch!”
Troy and Lydia appeared at the table, hand in hand. “What happened here?” Lydia said.
“Just tripped. I’m okay. Jax here caught me.” I took a sip of beer and told Jax, “Be a sweetheart and get me some ice, will you honey?”
He sprang into action and ran to the bar.
Lydia inspected my ankle. “It looks pretty swollen.”
I winced when I pressed my ankle. “Jax is getting me ice. He’s a good person, Lyds. You raised him right.”
She smiled in a way that lit her whole body. “He’ll take care of you. Will you be okay if we go back out on the floor or do you want us here with you?”
“I’m fine. Please, go back out there and enjoy the music.”
She touched my ankle gently. “I don’t know about this.”
I waved her away. “Please! Tyler’s expecting you to have a good time tonight. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” Lydia shrugged, then she turned to Troy. “Let’s dance.” And they were off.
Jax returned with the ice wrapped in a bar towel, which he gently applied to my ankle.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“How about another beer?”
He sat up straight. “Lucky for you, the owner of the club knows me. But if they ask, the beer’s for you.”
“Who else would it be for?”
“Back in a flash.” Jax made his way through the throng, returning with a frosted mug of deliciously cold beer.
I drank beer after beer as Troy and Lydia danced the night away and Jax and I watched Tyler’s band perform.
“Slow down, Rosalyn,” Jax said, moving the glass away from my hand.
I shot him a look. “Helps with the pain.”
Jax wouldn’t leave my side, even helping me to the ladies room a few times, his arm around me, patiently waiting until I was done and ushering me back to the table where he set my leg up on a chair and made sure I had a fresh ice pack.
We listened to the music. The band reminded me of a cross between Pearl Jam and Nirvana. The deep bass and Tyler’s sensuous voice filled my body with heat and passion. I took another sip of beer.
After awhile, Jax leaned into me and whispered, “About what happened the other day—”
“I told you, Jax, nothing happened! Now, let’s just sit back and enjoy the music.”
“But I need to know that we’re … that you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because … well, because what happened—”
“Will you listen to me? Nothing happened. And you’d better stop thinking that way. Get me another beer. Please?”
“I think you’ve had enough.” Jax leaned back and folded his arms.
“Baby, I haven’t had nearly enough. I wish I had my bong.” I took another sip of beer.
He jerked forward, looking at me with alarm. “Why do you have to smoke so much? It’s not good for you.”
I leaned forward and made eye contact with Jax, trying to avoid the hypnosis of those eyes. “Sweetie, I know what I’m doing. Now, let’s not talk about this anymore.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, and in the name of everything holy, I tried not to stare at those sculpted arms. I touched his leg. “Just get me another beer, okay?”
He stood up and walked to the bar.
When he returned, he set a glass of ice water in front of me and touched my ankle. No beer? Okay fine, Mr. Adult.
“You better get this checked out.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not fine! You need somebody to watch over you.”
“And who exactly is that someone supposed to be?” I slurred.
He nudged the glass of ice water toward me. “I, I don’t know. Just someone.”
After the show, Troy drove while Tyler stayed behind to help the band. Jax and I sat silently in the backseat.
Troy and Jax helped me to the front door of my apartment. I let the weight of my body be supported by father and son.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Jax said, concern wrinkling his brow.
“Yes, sweetie.”
When I laid in bed that night, I thought of Jax. Helpful, loving, protective. And that body. Damn. As the ceiling swirled, I saw a vision of his smiling face. Jax was so trusting and lovable. I had to be careful not to hurt him.
I rolled over and petted Leo, who was curled up and purring next to me. A hot tear rolled down my cheek. I whisper
ed a small prayer to the Universe.
Don’t let me hurt him.
Jax
All I could think about was Rosalyn. She had drunk too much at the concert, and I was worried about her ankle. I planned to go over to her house that afternoon and check on her, but first, I needed to surf so I’d be relaxed.
After school, I raced down to Sunset Cliffs, and it was epic. The waves were double overhead. Freaking Awesome! I crouched over my board on the beach making crisscross motions with surf wax on my pointy, sleek, high-performance surfboard. Scanning the ocean, watching set after set of perfect waves pound the point, my heartbeat sped up.
“Dude,” one of the locals said as he zipped up his wetsuit.
I looked up at him, the sun blocked out by his body. “What’s up, bro?”
“Fucking gnarly out there. You got your leash?” He strapped his surfboard leash around his ankle.
I went without a leash as often as possible because I thought they made a surfer lazy. In the big stuff, though, sometimes you had no choice. “Nah.”
“You’re one bad mother fucker,” he said. “Hey, I been meaning to ask you, who’s that hot chick you been bringing down to the beach? You know, the one with that crazy wild blond hair.”
“You mean Rosalyn?”
“Guess so. The one you been teaching to surf.”
“Yeah, that’s my mom’s friend, Rosalyn.”
He snorted with laughter, slapped his hand on his thigh and said, “Dude, you gotta be shittin’ me. You mean to tell me she’s your mom’s friend, like, all older and stuff?”
My protective hackles went up. I stood up.
“Yes.”
“What the hell’s she doing hanging out with you? Chick’s a freakin’ babe.”
“You better watch your mouth, buddy.”
“Oh yeah? If my mom had a friend who looked like that, I’d watch my mouth. I’d watch it move all over that sweet body of hers, then I’d—”
My face felt hot and my muscles tensed. I cracked my knuckles. “You’d what?”
He grinned a lecherous grin that I wanted to wipe right off his face.
“I’d bend her over and—”
I swung so hard, he didn’t have a chance to protect himself. There was a surprised look on his face along with a terrible crunching sound. His head jerked back, and blood spurted out of his nose.
“Fuckin’, what the fuck?” He fell back onto the sand, his hands over his face.
I grabbed my board, anger swelling in my body, my eyes blinded by rage. “Stay away from her you moron.” I stormed off, sprinting for the ocean.
I paddled furiously out to the lineup. How dare he talk about Rosalyn that way? How dare he look at her body the way he had and think the thoughts he’d been thinking? Rage mixed with testosterone surged through my body as I paddled into the crowded lineup and got myself into a priority position amidst the throng of surfers. Surfer’s etiquette deemed that everybody take turns on the waves, but I was a man possessed that day, dropping into wave after glassy wave.
One surfer dropped into a wave in front of me and I shoved him out of the way. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his surfboard twirl up into the air before smacking down onto the angry ocean. “Don’t cut me off!” I yelled above the pounding of the waves.
When I reached the end of my ride, my nostrils flared. I turned my board around and paddled quickly back to the lineup.
“What’s gotten into you, dude?” one of the locals said. “Ever hear of giving the rest of us some waves?”
When the next wave rolled through, I paddled hard, my muscles burning. Another surfer had the right of way and paddled for the same wave, but I dropped into the wave in front of him. When I returned to the lineup, his face was a mask of anger. “You cut me off one more time, Priest, and I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna what?” Looking over my shoulder, I paddled hard for the next wave. When he saw the look of ferocity on my face, he backed off. I would never say this in front of the local surfers, but the truth was I was the best one out there. Usually I was all about sharing waves. On that day, if anyone had crossed me, I would’ve pulverized them. I knew it wasn’t right, but a man was allowed to have a jealous fit every now and then, right? That thought made me smile because I couldn’t remember ever having felt like that about anyone. So that’s what it felt like to care about a woman.
The next wave I rode, I tucked into the tube, grabbed the rail, and felt that familiar eerie sensation of calm that only comes with the magic of an epic surf session. My stomach leapt into my throat for a second, then my heart exploded with joy. Pleasure spread through my system like a drug. My feet gripped the deck of the board as salt water sprayed my face. I blinked the cold, invigorating water out of my eyes as the ocean rushed underneath me. As I glided in the tube, my right hand caressed the wave, my fingers soaking up the energy of the sea. Turquoise water spilled over the top of my board, and it felt like I was the only person on the planet. Just me, the power of the ocean, my surfboard and my body that I’d trained so hard for days like that.
A few hours into the session, my body finally relaxed, endorphins singing happily through my system. I paddled out to the lineup again, and feeling more gracious, told one of the newer surfers, “Your wave,” as the next set came through.
Surfing was always the thing that saved me. When I was sad or lonely or depressed or yes, angry like I was that day, surfing, and especially the thrill of the bigger waves, made everything fade into the background.
When I rode my final wave into shore, I kicked out and saw Rosalyn sitting on the beach. My surfboard flipped up in front of me, and I grabbed it with both hands, then tucked it under my arm, scraping my wet hair back.
Rosalyn was there! My mind raced with fantasies: she loved me, she wanted me, she couldn’t wait to tear my clothes off. My pulse quickened, a wide grin on my face.
I sauntered toward her.
Rosalyn
The day after the concert, I woke up with a hangover. After I fed Leo, I limped down to the beach to practice yoga because that always cured whatever ailed me. The morning was cool and crisp, and when I saw the ocean, I gasped and covered my mouth. The waves were the biggest I’d ever seen. The whitewater slammed wildly against the shore then jumped up ten to twelve feet.
Jax would be at school. It would’ve been like me to play hooky if I were in his shoes, but I knew him well enough to know that he didn’t like getting into trouble. There was no doubt that he’d dash down to surf as soon as the school bell rang.
Watching the waves, my mind flashed to the times I’d wiped out, unable to catch a breath, certain the violent wave would pin me to the bottom of the ocean where I’d see stars, pass out, and inhale a lungful of salty seawater.
I couldn’t look at the ocean without thinking of Jax and I couldn’t think of Jax without feelings of guilt washing over me. I’d avoided having a serious talk with him at the concert. The throbbing bass line of the music made conversation difficult, and I’d gotten so drunk, I didn’t think I would’ve made sense anyway. Couldn’t we avoid the confrontation altogether? Maybe we could go back to the way things were before.
After school, I limped down to the beach again, and sure enough, Jax was there, manhandling the waves, his athletic body strong, balanced and graceful as he rode wave after smooth wave. He finally emerged from the ocean, a junior version of Aquaman.
“What are you doing here?” he said, hurrying over to where I sat. He dropped down to his knees in front of me, salt water dripping off his hair and onto my skirt. “How’s your ankle?” He gently touched it, and I winced.
“It’s okay. Guess I really did twist it.”
“You didn’t climb down that rope, did you?”
“I was worried about you. When I came by the beach to do yoga this morning and saw how big the waves were—”
“Please tell me you didn’t climb down that rope.”
“Yes, I climbed down the rope. I’m not as weak as you think
I am.”
“But your ankle. You really did a number on yourself.”
“How was your session?” I said, changing the subject. I didn’t need a teenager to tell me how to take care of myself.
“Freaking awesome.” He broke into a huge grin. “Just freaking awesome. But we need to get you out of here.” He peered at me intently. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t come down here when you’re hurt. You need to put your foot up.”
“I told you, I’m tougher than you think.”
“Whatever you say. But I’m helping you climb that rope. Up you go,” he said, extending one hand to help me.
We stood in front of the rope, and Jax assisted me. I pulled and shimmied up the side of the rock.
“Ouch. It was easier going down.”
“It couldn’t be! You had to jump down. Jesus, you never listen, do you? You’re limping. I’ll put my arm around you. Lean into me.”
Jax walked me home, one powerful arm around me, his surfboard tucked under the other arm. As the thunderous waves crashed in the background, I leaned into the safety of his hard, athletic body. The aroma of neoprene from his wetsuit mingled with seawater and Jax’s masculine scent.
I forced myself to keep a clear head, determined that we would go back to the way things were before.
Buddies.
Jax
Rosalyn was limping pretty bad on the walk home, but worried as I was, it gave me an excuse to put my arm around her and feel her soft, curvy body. My head buzzed with anticipation at the thought of us alone in her apartment.
When we arrived, she collapsed on the sofa putting her feet on the ottoman while Leo jumped up on her chest. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, cooing and petting the kitty.
I kneeled down in front of her. “You need to ice this.”
“Treatment for swelling is hot epsom salt soak, then ice water back and forth.”
I walked into the kitchen to get the ice. “You got something we can soak your foot in?” She sent me to the hall closet for the first aid stuff. I filled one plastic tub with hot water, the other with ice cubes and water, and put both in front of Rosalyn. She slipped her delicate foot into the hot water with a sigh.
Pleasure Point: The Complete Series Page 14
