Delicious Do-Over

by Debbi Rawlins

  “Opening up your home like that is incredibly nice of you,” she said, meaning it. She didn’t think she could be that generous with her personal space.

  “What am I supposed to do when a kid has no place else to go? They can only sleep on the beach for so long.” An apologetic smile chased the concern from his face. “Hey, enough about that, how about we go to the beach now?”

  “Or we could clean up the patio if need be. I don’t mind helping.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.” He touched a finger to her lips. “We have too little time together. I’m not wasting any of it, especially on cleaning. Besides, I’ve got the kids who sometimes do it.”

  Lindsey’s thoughts shot back to the store parking lot, and she stared at him, registering reality in measures. “That phone call earlier, I thought—” She clamped her mouth shut, quickly turned away and snapped open her can of cola.

  “You thought what?”

  “Nothing. I—I overheard something I shouldn’t have.”

  Rick moved around the butcher-block island and cut her off. “You want a glass?” he asked, studying her face.

  “No, thanks.” She forced herself to meet his probing eyes.

  “What did you think, Lindsey? You were obviously upset at the shop.”

  “It was really stupid, okay? Can we please drop it?” Her cheeks had to be redder than a cherry tomato.

  He said nothing for a horribly long five seconds, and then asked, “You have your swimsuit on under that?”

  She nodded, sighed quietly with relief.

  “Then let’s go surfin’.”

  “Oh, God, I hope that was a figure of speech.”

  Rick chuckled, looped an arm around her neck, kissed her mouth hard. He reared his head back and smiled at her. “I’m going to show you why there is no place on earth like the North Shore.”

  LINDSEY THOUGHT Rick would grab his board while she picked up a couple of beach towels, and they’d run across the highway. Wrong. According to him, the waves weren’t big enough. So he strapped his board to the top of the Jeep and they drove a few miles to Sunset Beach.

  As soon as they turned off the highway and she saw the waves, her stomach nearly leaped into her throat. They were huge, nothing she’d ever seen before, especially with people out there, some on boards, some flailing around. Rick, on the other hand, was disappointed. He gauged the waves at eight feet. He’d been hoping for ten-foot sets.

  They got out of the Jeep, but Rick didn’t unload his board. He leaned back on the hood, his arms folded, and from behind dark glasses, he stared out at the waves. Lindsey’s breath caught just looking at him. All bronzed and chiseled, he looked as if he should be on a magazine cover.

  Two guys heading toward the water with surfboards under their arms yelled something to him about Waimea. He nodded, made some kind of hand sign she didn’t understand.

  “Are you really going into the water?” she asked, a bit nervous for him.

  He smiled at her. “I don’t have to. I can stay here on the beach with you.”

  “But if I weren’t here, would you be surfing?”

  He caught her hand and pulled her closer. From his pocket he withdrew a tube of sunscreen. “Probably.”

  “You know I can’t go in there, right?”

  “I wouldn’t let you.”

  She raised her brows in reproach.

  “Excuse me. I meant to say that I would highly discourage you from going in with waves this high.” He tried to hide a smile while he unscrewed the cap. “We should have put this on back at the house. Take off your top.”

  “Does that line usually work?”

  “You’d be surprised.” He squirted the white cream into his palm.

  Lindsey blinked at his insensitive response. That wasn’t like him. He probably hadn’t been thinking. He had seemed a bit preoccupied since they’d left the house. “I don’t know…I might leave my shirt on.”

  “You want that kind of tan line?”

  “No, I guess not.” She pulled up the hem of her tank top, then peeled down her shorts and threw them both into the Jeep. She glanced down. The bronzing lotion she’d now used twice had helped some but not enough. “I think I might be the whitest human being on this side of the island.”

  Rick took her by the shoulders and turned her around. He rubbed the sunscreen down her back, and whispered into her ear, “You look terrific.” He slathered the cream across the back of her thighs. “Good enough to eat,” he added, trailing the tip of his tongue inside her ear.

  “Stop it,” she said, laughing and trying to pull away. “You know that tickles.”

  He banded his arms around her, kept her rooted to the spot.

  She gasped, glanced around to check for an audience. “You have no shame.”

  “None,” he agreed.

  “Rick, you know these people. I don’t.”

  “That’s right. So don’t worry about it.” He turned her around and leisurely kissed her, before refilling his palm and rubbing the sunscreen on her chest. Although he was discreet, he wasn’t shy about reaching into the bikini cups and making sure her skin was covered with the cream.

  When he swept his palm across her ribs, she sucked in her stomach and shivered a little. Everything tightened—her nipples, between her legs…

  He smiled, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses, and maybe that was for the best.

  “I can get my legs after I sit down. Let me do your back,” she said, half expecting him to balk.

  He squirted more of the sunscreen into his hand, and then gave her the tube and his back while he rubbed the cream into his face and chest.

  “I didn’t know you could wear sunscreen and get this tan.” She massaged his shoulders and back, loving the feel of his bunching muscle under her palm, and staring at the four-inch tattoo, a Hawaiian symbol he’d gotten in memory of a friend, a fellow surfer. She glanced nervously at the waves.

  “I spend a lot of time in the sun.”

  “Do you ever work at the shop?”

  “I have a back room where I’m playing with a new board design.” He turned to face her. “Which isn’t public knowledge, by the way.”

  She nodded. “How is that coming?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s go find a spot.” He grabbed the towels and tossed them over his shoulder.

  “I’ll take those. You’ve got your board to carry.”

  He unloosened the strap. “I figured you’d take it for me.”

  Her eyes widened on the surfboard. It had to be six or seven feet long, who knew how heavy. “I’ll try.”

  Rick lifted the board and sent it nose-first into the sand in front of her. “Here you go.” By his beginning smirk she knew this was some kind of test or joke.

  She gingerly took hold, careful to keep it balanced, and then jerked her head up. “It’s light. It’s like…foam.”

  “Yep.” Grinning, he took the board from her. “Everyone expects them to be heavier than they are. The old ones were made of wood. Those suckers were heavy.”

  “Dude, where you been?” A man—early twenties, his dark hair and brown skin dripping wet—approached them. He planted the point of his board in the sand. “I figured the shoulder had you taking it easy and drowning in six-packs.”

  “No way.” Rick greeted him with one of those weird handshakes that made Lindsey think of sign language.

  “You missed it this morning, dude. Sets of twelve-footers, amazing.” With the back of his wrist, he wiped the moisture from his face and eyed Lindsey.

  “I’d introduce you, Pono,” Rick said, sliding an arm around Lindsey, “except you’re a dog, and she’s off-limits.”

  The man laughed, his dark brows shooting up in surprise. “Ha, dude, must be serious.” He picked up his board. “Later,” he said, winking at Lindsey as he headed toward a group of parked cars.

  13

  “WHAT WAS THAT?”

  “What?” Rick tucked his
board under his arm, with his free hand he caught Lindsey’s and started them toward the sand.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I guess it’s a subculture I don’t understand,” she said diplomatically.

  “Because you thought I was rude, or because I got all caveman on you?”

  “There is that.”

  Rick kept an eye on a young surfer riding a seven-foot funboard who was about to wipe out at any second. “Pono’s a nice enough guy, but the minute I would’ve left you alone, he’d have been all over you.”

  She blushed. “Don’t worry about me. I know karate.”

  He slanted her a long look. “Seriously?”

  “No.” She grinned. “But I like surprising you once in a while.”

  “No worries in that department.” He shook his head, pausing to watch as Ryan paddled out. The boy was too green. He had no business being in the white water. “Damn kid’s not using a leash,” he muttered to himself.

  “Excuse me?”

  He glanced at Lindsey. “Sorry. I see someone out there who should still be using the kiddie pool. How about here?” he asked, halfway between the grass and the water.

  “Sure.” She laid out the beach towels, while he put down his board.

  Rick didn’t sit with her. He waited until he could make out who was manning the lifeguard station. It was Brian. Good man. The lifeguard waved when he spotted him, and Rick signaled for him to keep an eye on Ryan.

  “You guys sure are big on hand signs,” Lindsey said teasingly when he sat beside her. “Is it universal surfer speak or do you have to be a private member of the club?”

  “A few are universal, used mostly if a guy cuts you off. I think you’d recognize those,” he said, chuckling as he crouched beside her. “The lifeguard’s a friend of mine. I asked him to watch out for one of the kids. If it seemed cryptic it’s because I don’t want to embarrass the boy, though I just might kick his ass in private.” Rick sighed when he saw Ryan make a bonehead move, and glanced at Lindsey. “Figuratively speaking.”

  She was smiling at him, a weird pleased smile like the kind his sister sometimes gave him when he was playing with his nephews. It made him uneasy. “It’s nice that you care that much,” Lindsey said.

  He shrugged. “The local surfers out here are a good bunch. We try to help each other out.” He stood, stretched out his legs, his arms. “Mind if I go out for a few minutes?”

  “I forgot about your shoulder until Pono brought it up. Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “Fine.”

  Her anxious gaze swept over the swells. “Those are awfully big waves.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes fretful, doing the talking for her. She wanted him to be careful. She wished he wouldn’t go out there at all because she was afraid for him.

  He broke eye contact and picked up his board. He didn’t need that kind of concern. Hell, he didn’t want Lindsey to care that much. It would only end up bad for her.

  “I won’t be long. Just need to whisper a few sweet nothings to a couple of hotheads out there.” He hesitated, thought about kissing her before he left, but then just headed for the water.

  This would be a good test for his shoulder. He hadn’t been in the water for over four weeks. The doctor had told him to sit out for six, and as much respect as Rick had for someone who powered through four grueling years of medical school, ultimately he knew his own body better than someone with a certificate hanging on their wall.

  The water was cooler than he liked, but still warm considering it was March. It felt good slapping against his thighs as he waded in before hopping on his board. He paddled out to catch up with Ryan and Sam. Neither boy was ready to take on six-foot waves, or Sunset, period. They were too eager, too immature to understand the danger. Both of them knew how many great surfers had drowned out here, but at their age they thought they were infallible.

  He understood because it hadn’t been that long since he’d similarly regarded life and his future. But that wasn’t what was bothering him today. It was Lindsey. So, he liked her. Maybe too much. They had three and a half days left before he’d be driving her to the airport. It was going to be tough saying goodbye. For both of them, he admitted. But he had a feeling it would be worse for her.

  Women like her didn’t check out a week of their life as if they’d checked out a library book. Use it for seven days, return it on time, no harm, no foul. She’d probably end up analyzing the hell out of everything they’d done and talked about, and then kick herself for putting it all out there. He had a younger sister who used to cry on his shoulder every time she broke up with a guy she’d been serious about. Thankfully, Jenny had been married for three years now.

  After he realized Lindsey had overheard his call to Wally about making sure the place was clean, he understood the wrong assumption she’d made. The thing was, at any other given time, it could’ve been true. He liked women. There were plenty around who liked him, too. No promises were ever made. No one got hurt. They came and went. They didn’t gaze at him with concern in their big blue eyes. If anything, they wanted the rush of being with the dude who wasn’t afraid of Waimea at thirty or forty feet.

  Sometimes the situation went sideways. If a woman got too clingy, he stayed out in the water for hours and tended to clam up until they got the hint. Never his finest moments, but that’s the way he was, the way he was built.

  Lindsey was different. It was those eyes. If he hurt her, those blue eyes would haunt him forever. He’d see them in the blue depths of the ocean, he’d see them in the blue of a clear sky. Oh, he had a feeling it would be a long time before he stopped picturing that sweet innocent face, the one filled with concern for him. And that would be all on him. Wouldn’t that be something?

  He saw Ryan paddling toward the big outside sets, and Rick cut loose a string of obscenities that would make a drunk soldier blush. He yelled to get the kid’s attention. Ryan couldn’t hear him.

  Before he could paddle out to the boy, a huge wave rose up and crashed down on Ryan. He was floundering in the white water by the time Rick reached him, meanwhile Rick’s shoulder was aching. He totally deserved every ounce of pain. Ryan had been only half the reason Rick had stubbornly paddled out after the first warning twitch. He wanted to show off for Lindsey. What an ass.

  He managed to grab Ryan and put him on the front of his board, which was too small, but he had no choice. He paddled outside of the impact zone with Ryan hanging on by his fingernails. Rick glanced back, saw another huge wave rising up on the horizon and hoped like hell that Brian had seen what had happened and was on his way out with the big rescue board.

  LINDSEY SHADED HER EYES. The sunglasses helped but the glare off the water made it hard for her to keep track of Rick. She couldn’t understand why he’d just kept paddling. The waves had gotten bigger since he went out, at least to her eyes, and she’d started praying that he would turn around and come back to shore.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  She looked up. It was the lifeguard Rick had signaled. He was tall and lean, and keeping his focus on the ocean even while he talked to her.

  “Yes?”

  “How’s Rick’s shoulder? Do you know?” It wasn’t a polite, icebreaker question. He seemed tense, alert to whatever was happening in the water, and he’d brought a long orange board with him.

  “I don’t know. He said it was okay.” She hadn’t realized she’d gotten up on her knees until now. She quickly scrambled to her feet. “Is he in trouble?”

  “He’s trying to help a kid,” he murmured, half to himself. Without tearing his gaze from the waves that seemed to be coming at a more rapid and terrifying pace, he ran with the board into the surf.

  Lindsey’s heart somersaulted. She strained to locate Rick. The waves were high and when they broke, there was nothing but white spray. Most of the surfers had swum to shore. A few were still out there. The spectators who’d been sunbathing were all standing now and staring out to sea.

  Fear tightened in her chest
. She couldn’t see Rick. She just wanted to be able to see him. Even in her panic, she was furious with the lifeguard. Why had he wasted time asking her about Rick’s shoulder?

  “He’s gonna be okay.”

  She turned sharply, saw that it was Pono, the guy Rick had spoken to earlier.

  “That’s nothin’ for Rick. I’ve seen the dude out at Waimea at twenty-five feet.”

  “Do you see him now?”

  Pono pointed vaguely to the right.

  Lindsey saw nothing but waves breaking and crashing. “I don’t understand why the lifeguard waited so long. He wanted to know about Rick’s shoulder instead of going out there and helping him.” Her voice was shaky, her whole body had started to shake.

  “Brian’s helping another dude.” Pono touched her arm, got her to look at him. “He asked about his shoulder because he wanted to make sure Rick was okay first.”

  She turned back to stare at the frightening water. But what if he wasn’t okay? Men were stupid about admitting vulnerability. He could be hurting and unable to help himself, or the boy. She shuddered uncontrollably.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Lindsey,” she answered grudgingly.

  “Look, Lindsey, Rick’s the best. No lie. If it was me out there in trouble, he’s the one I’d want saving me. The dude is a world-class big-wave surfer. Everybody around here knows that. Even if he won’t commit—” He pointed again. “There he is. He’s got the kid. Ah, you’re kidding, it’s Ryan.”

  Lindsey saw him about twenty feet from the shore and she ran toward him. The boy was lying prone on the board. Rick trudged through the water, pushing the surfboard, his chest heaving.

  “Is he okay?” Lindsey’s gaze darted from the boy to Rick. “Are you?” She stopped when the water slapped her thighs.

  The kid lifted his dark head, pushing the long wet hair away from his face. “I lost my fucking board.”

  Rick tapped the back of his head. “Watch your language.”

  The boy glanced sideways at Lindsey, and slid off the board with a sullen expression on his face.