Another Shot with Summer (Hot Tide Book 1)

by Michele De Winton

  “Oh. She said she’d squared it away with you. She pulled a fast one on both of us, huh?”

  “Don’t worry. The cab can’t have got far. I’ll just call him back.”

  Ashton caught her arm as she swiveled to leave, and she tried to pull free as if he’d stung her. Her reaction to his touch was the same as when she’d been a teenager. Hot, firm, sending her senses into sharp overdrive, his fingers made her skin burn. These were feels she was not ready to feel again.

  He dropped his hand, and there was an awkward moment where they looked at each other, frozen, and Summer realized he felt it, too. His face was shocked, his eyes wide. The moment grew longer, her breath catching in her throat as she waited, unsure of what to do next.

  Then his pupils returned to normal, and his face softened. “We’re here now, and the light is about to turn. Maya’s told the client I’m on the job, so I need to get the shots. I’ll just be the photographer. Everything else…” He waved his hand between them. “It’s history. Ancient history.”

  She felt his gaze on her a moment longer than was strictly necessary. She brushed at her face, as if trying to get the sensation of him off her skin. Then her awe turned to anger. “I guess it is all about you, after all. Wouldn’t want you missing out on keeping your new client happy.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Shit.” He rubbed his chin. “This is not how I wanted to see you again after so long.” He looked about as if trying to find a distraction and came up empty. “I’m a different guy behind the camera. I promise.”

  She kicked the sand and wished the extra freckles the sun had added to her face today would fade instantly. Nothing like freckles to make a girl feel like a girl, instead of a woman. You are not a girl. Be the bigger person.

  There was an awkward pause. She straightened. “Fine,” she said. That was all she was going to give him. Short, calm, professional.

  “Best we get started, then. The light’s going to be perfect in about half an hour.” Ashton bent to his bag again to get out his camera.

  Summer gave herself a little shake. Last time she’d been in front of a photographer had been with T.J., and it had ended in a filthy hiss-fight. T.J. is miles away. She could do this. Maya must really rate Ashton to pull this on her. Summer flicked off a text to her. Sneaky. You so owe me a beer.

  Taking a deep breath, Summer forced herself to focus. Even though she’d pulled a fast one on her, Maya had things in hand. This campaign was going to be her in onto the sponsorship roundabout, and then she was going to be ready to get out from under T.J.’s ego-fat shadow when this stupid contract expired. You can do this. And she would. She had to.

  “How do you want me? I mean—” Arg, of all the things to ask Ashton Evans. “Where do you want me standing?”

  He looked up from his gear and scanned the beach. Trying to find the light, she figured. “Give me a sec.”

  Sure. She’d take a second of him not talking. A lifetime would be fine, too. When she’d dragged herself out of the surf yesterday and come face-to-face with the fully-grown version of her teenage crush, she’d wanted to turn and run the other way. Fast. The nutcracker jaw and mussed blond hair had hardly changed since she’d last seen them, and they were hella hot up close. But he was quieter somehow, like he was listening, hearing what others had to say before talking. In their youth, he would be the first into a conversation, busting out his opinion ahead of all others. The change in him gave her pause, but only for a moment. Actions spoke louder than anything, and his actions yelled douche from the rooftops.

  She hadn’t spent much energy dwelling on Ashton Evans since his accident three years ago, and she hadn’t seen him since they’d all been a bunch of fresh-faced grommets. She’d started pushing hard to get on the WSL circuit just as he’d had to bow out of it. But she’d thought about him since last night. Thought about him caressing her face, telling her she was too young to even think about getting engaged. Thought about how the way he said it had made her take a chance and kiss him. Kiss him till he’d wrapped his arms around her and picked her off the floor. Back then, she’d pretended she needed his advice, but she’d just needed to know how he felt about her before she married anyone else. When he took her in his arms, they’d fallen into bed and when they’d made love, her heart had been his. Completely.

  And then the next day, he’d kissed Kimberly like it was nothing.

  He pulled something from his bag and swatted a bug out of his eyes. Eyes as blue as the faultless Pacific Ocean, a chest perfectly tanned and toned by hours spent in and out of the water. As a teen she’d had a photograph of him from one of her surf magazines tucked under her pillow until her bestie and Ashton’s sister, Brooke, had found it and teased her into throwing it out. She should have kept it and used it for a dartboard.

  He shifted his weight, and she noted the slight limp. Crap luck. He’d been so close to holding on to the top spot he must have been able to taste it before his accident wiped out his balance. Still, if what she’d heard was true, Summer didn’t have to worry much about hurting his feelings. The guy was still a douchebag and a thrill seeker through and through. She hated the groupie part of the surf culture: girls making sandwiches for their boyfriends and waiting on the beach for them to finish their set rather than getting out amongst it themselves. Fawning over their boyfriends as if they were water-gods rather than mere mortals on a fancy plank of polystyrene.

  There was more to the water than luck and balance, and she appreciated the guys who showed the surf the respect it deserved. When she was seventeen, she’d thought Ashton was one of the good guys. She’d been wrong, and it sounded like he still preferred the hollow attention of pretty people he barely knew rather than true relationships.

  He might have been off the WSL circuit for a while, but plenty of women remembered his time there, and his love’em and leave’em policy had been something every surf girl worth her saltwater had tried, and failed, to break.

  She watched him organizing his equipment. The years off the circuit suited him, had hardened him even more, maybe because he was lifting things outside of the water, rather than in it. There was no denying he was an epic slice of eye-candy pie. Lucky it made no difference to her. She didn’t need to go soft and sticky over anything.

  But standing there in front of him, pinching her pinky to stop her hands fidgeting, Summer felt the calm, hard certainty about who she was and what she wanted slipping away like the tide. T.J.’s words visited her every night. T.J.’s words and the flick of his hand as he dismissed her talent, her passion, and their relationship. She pinched herself harder. You have this. Suck it up, girl. She was sick of letting her feelings and career be affected by men. She was in the WSL competition. Finally. It was time to make all her hard work count. Starting with nailing this photo shoot so she could get a sponsor and afford to surf full-time, instead of squeezing it in between shifts at the bar.

  Ashton waved a hand over at some rocks while he kept fiddling with his camera. “Let’s start over here. Did you bring a change of clothes? The shorts are cute, but that shirt isn’t going to work on camera. You brought your bikini, right?”

  “Umm…” She looked down at her plaid crop top. “I thought this wasn’t going to be a sexy shoot. You sure I need to be in a bikini?”

  He nodded. “It’s in the brief. That going to be a problem?”

  She shook her head. “I want the sponsorship deal. So, whatever. Just don’t be a dick about it, okay? I’m fried enough after today. It got a bit wild out there.”

  He smiled. “It’s hardly surprising. That huge set this morning, the madness that comes with the whole WSL circus all focused on you, and then Maya bullies you into doing a photo shoot at the end of it. Don’t worry. We’ll get the shot, and then you can throw it in T.J.’s face. Or get him to beg you to take him back, whichever you’re angling for.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “That so?” After another day with media mongrels constantly asking her how T.J. was coping with the pressure
of going for a hat trick, and having to smile winningly back, any mention of him got her hackles up. Although, at least it was better than dissolving into a lust monster over Ashton. She stood straighter.

  “This is all about showing him you can do it, isn’t it?”

  Him, and every other guy who thought they owned the water. This was her time. Hers. T.J. was just in the way. She tilted her chin up. “It’s not. But what if it was?”

  “Nothing. Just figured you’re better off being up front with yourself. It’ll help us get a good picture.”

  She searched his face for any sign of callousness. Nothing. Nothing except a few rugged lines of old pain, mixed in with the smile lines she remembered as a teenager. “He told me I shouldn’t try and qualify last year. Said I wasn’t ready. Which was BS. This time I’m not waiting for anyone’s permission for anything.”

  He nodded, and part of her was disappointed. But what did she want? She didn’t need his approval. She didn’t need anyone’s approval. Time to get to work. She pulled off her shirt to reveal her bikini. “I’ll leave my shorts on for a few, yes?”

  It was Ashton’s turn to pause before nodding. “Good idea.”

  He put his eye to his camera again as she bent to put her top in her bag, but she could feel his focus on her. Ashton was just another dude in the surf circus. A rumpled, rough-and-ready hella hot dude sure, but a dude nonetheless. She could do this. She would do this.

  The past year and a half had shown her what really mattered. When T.J. cheated, it was the nudge she’d needed to admit she’d never loved him as much as the idea of him. And with that revelation had come a shakedown of what she wanted in her life. Her dreams beckoned like jewels at the edge of her eye, and with Brooke and Maya backing her all the way, the life she wanted was just around the corner. She was gonna eat up every little bit of it. Starting now.

  #

  Ashton’s stomach knotted as Summer pulled off her shirt and leaned over to tuck it into her bag. Jeezus, but the woman had legs forever. What had he been thinking agreeing to do this? It just made him hate his idiot teenaged self even more. Too late for that now, get on with what’s in front of you. Yes. Since his accident, he’d had to narrow down his focus. Now was important, the past was the past, it was the only way he got through the days sometimes.

  If he let himself think about the mistakes he’d made, what they had cost the people around him, including the best friend who had lost his life the night Ashton had lost his career…Ashton sighed, he couldn’t let himself go down that rabbit hole too often. It was a dark, lonely place.

  “If you could stand closer to those rocks. Picture getting into the semifinals, but without smiling. Yes, with your board. Great.” Hiding behind his camera, Ashton took deep breaths. This was as good a reason as any to stay the hell away from the WSL circuit. He was not a shiny, sun-kissed-girls kinda photographer. He liked things raw, a little broken, rough round the edges. Something a fruit juice company was unlikely to ever want. With raw broken things, there was less chance of breaking them any further.

  With no budget for an assistant, he adjusted the reflector stand himself, and the light did all sorts of amazing things as it bounced off Summer’s cheekbones. He ducked back behind his camera.

  Since the accident, he’d tried to stay away from everything to do with surfing. Once he’d recovered enough to be able to work, he started shooting other sports to try and feed the need for adrenalin. A part of him thought he didn’t deserve to be close to the ocean again, not after he’d disrespected everything about the life back then. But the call of the surf had never left his veins. He was part saltwater, always would be. Five years was a long time. He was ready. He wanted to shoot the WSL. He was going to make it happen. Only trouble was, they didn’t see him as a surf photographer. They saw him as a once-great surfer who had changed careers. All his meetings this week had been full of backslapping and wow, I thought you were all about football these days. Maya wasn’t wrong when she suggested doing this might help him find a way back into the circuit.

  Summer put her hand down casually, leaning into her board so her hip jutted just so, and her legs echoed the long, lean line of her surfboard. Nice. So very nice. Ashton shook his head. He was here to work. Best get something shot before he lost the light.

  Bent to the tripod, with the viewfinder stuck to his eye, Ashton felt his concentration returning. Once he got in the zone, he could become detached from everything on the other side of the camera. If he just saw things as pictures, his emotions stopped rushing round his body.

  He checked himself—yes, better.

  “A little to the left. If you could keep making tiny movements so we get some variation. Hmmm. No, not like that, can you try something different?”

  “Like what?” Her voice tight. She was frustrated, he realized.

  “Maybe lose the board, lean it behind you on those rocks. No, don’t smile with your whole mouth.”

  “I need more instruction than that.”

  Ashton frowned. She had it in her to get the shot, he could tell. She was just wound up too tight around him. Your fault, genius.

  He needed a way to break her out of her funk. Maybe if he baited her a little. “So, tell me about T.J. Maya didn’t fill me in with all the details. Why not just try and work through it, if you can manage to stay together for the press?”

  Her whole body stiffened as if he’d stuck her with a poker, and then she leaned towards him unconsciously. “He cheated on me. Something you’re a pro at, so no wonder you’d take his side.”

  Okay, so that was too much, now she was too angry, but at least it had stopped her being stuck in her head. Her eyes flashed, and her shoulders rose. Ashton flicked off a couple frames. Interesting but unusable.

  “Men are idiots. There must have been some good times with him, though?” he tried.

  “Of course there were good times. I wouldn’t have stayed with him that long otherwise.”

  Nope, not helping.

  “Oh.” Suddenly she looked at him. Hard. And her face changed completely. “I get it.” Her body relaxed again.

  “Get it?”

  “You’re trying to piss me off.”

  “Not entirely.”

  She changed her pose and stretched her arms above her head. It was provocative. Sexy. Goddamn crazily sexy, not what the client was after at all. But at least she’d stopped overthinking.

  “Better.”

  “Of course you’d say that.”

  “A little to the left.” She moved and now she was starting to get it. But it was still too sexy, and he was losing focus. The girl could give as good as she got. Your own fault for trying to bait her in the first place.

  The dark black of the rocks deepened as the light changed, and the white sand picked up the filaments of sun as if they were shards of mirror. The sea had calmed, and Ashton changed angles to get in a wider spread of its shimmering surface. The world seemed new in that instant. Fresh. Calm. Ready to take on another day without the stress and struggle of people to interfere with it. He shot frame after frame as she moved with and without her board. Suddenly she’d let go a little, and it was working. The shots weren’t perfect, and they were a long way from what he liked to shoot, but they might work for a commercial client.

  Ashton stretched and looked over the top of his camera. “Okay, I think we’ve got something in there. Why don’t you try doing it your way? Play around, do whatever you want.”

  Summer stopped smiling, the shine sliding off her face like she’d turned a switch. The shock of it stopped Ashton a moment, his throat caught, then he ducked behind his camera again. This was real. Raw. A little broken. But unlike the men he’d followed the past few years, the woman in front of him was righteous, full of a fury that echoed the latent power of the ocean. She started down to the water, shucking her shorts on the way, and he tracked her with his camera, flicking off frame after frame as the sun put a halo around her.

  “Summer.”

  S
he looked back at him, and her blond hair flared out as she turned. The shiny soda-girl was long gone, and the hardness he’d witnessed was softened by the joy of being in the ocean. Ashton clicked again and again as she walked into the water and turned her back to him.

  “You know it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks. You and T.J. might have been a golden thing once, but you were half of that duo. Give it time and you’ll be sweet.”

  She spun and eyeballed the camera. “You’re an expert on that, are you?”

  “Oh, man. Don’t move.” A small wave had sprung out of nothing behind her, and its glistening top framed Summer’s shoulders for a second before she ignored him and turned towards it. Lifting her arms up, she started striding further into the water, and Ashton shook his head as the dipping light continued to give him golden shots, picking up the water dripping from her elbows, coating her skin with honey, haloing her hair like an angel’s.

  Taking him by surprise, she dived into the wave and he missed her entrance, but steadying himself, Ashton was ready when she emerged from the water, the wave flattened to nothing and a look of glee on her face as she strode out of the ocean towards him. “If this wasn’t for fruit juice, I’d say that was the shot of the day.” He stood up and beamed at her, his gruffness broken by the focus of being behind the camera.

  He waited for her to wrap herself in a towel, the evening still beautiful but now too dark to shoot in without any lights.

  She was self-conscious with him watching her now, he could tell by the stiffness of her back, so he turned away, packing up his tripod and spare lenses while she toweled her hair and wrapped herself up. He’d taken his laptop down to the beach but hardly ever checked frames that way unless he had a client with him. He preferred to do things the old-fashioned way; on instinct and feeling. Where other photographers had hordes of assistants, he liked to go solo, and go low tech. It had worked with film back in the day, and he didn’t see any reason to let that visceral way of working die just because digital cameras gave you the option of instantly checking every little detail.