Sex On The Beach: Bad Boys Club Romance #1

by Olivia Thorne

  I clinked my bottle against his. “To chance encounters and saving the day.”

  In my mind, I also thought: And to meeting really hot surfer guys, but I didn’t say that part out loud.

  12

  With all the talk of Hawaii, I thought back to my first encounter with Rick. It wasn’t something that I really wanted to think about, so I pushed it out of my mind – but Ian had said something that interested me.

  “I’d like to learn how to surf,” I said, pretty much out of nowhere.

  He nodded. “You should do it. There’s nothing better for relaxing and enjoying life.”

  “Still not sounding like a surfer,” I teased.

  “Cowabunga,” he said, and took another sip of beer.

  “How long have you surfed?”

  “Ever since I was in high school. I used to live around here.”

  “Did you move away?”

  “For a while.”

  “Where’d you go?” I asked.

  He paused for a second, and I got the feeling that he was being evasive again. “…the Bay area.” Then he quite abruptly changed topics. “You said you moved here yesterday?”

  “Well, I flew into LA two weeks ago and stayed in different neighborhoods – Los Feliz, Glendale, Silver Lake – but I moved into my place in Venice yesterday, yeah.”

  “Where are you from originally?”

  “Kansas.”

  “Kansas, huh? Not a whole lot of surfing there.”

  “No, not unless you could surf wheat fields.”

  “That would be a trick. I’d pay good money to see that.”

  “So would I.”

  “So what did you do in Kansas?”

  I took a long moment to think about what to say. It occurred to me that we were two people being evasive, sitting here and trying to avoid telling each other things.

  Well, if he can do it, so can I.

  “Not much,” I said. “That’s why I came out here.”

  “To learn how to surf,” he said, in a deadpan voice.

  “Sure, why not.” I batted my eyes playfully. “Could you teach me?”

  He suddenly got very serious, almost like he shut down.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  I was a little taken aback. I mean, learning to surf would be cool, but that wasn’t the real reason I was asking him to teach me. I just wanted to spend more time with him.

  But it didn’t really seem like he wanted the same thing.

  That didn’t stop me from trying, though.

  “Please?” I asked.

  He sighed. “There are a dozen good surf schools out there – ”

  “I’d rather learn from somebody I like.”

  “I’m sure you’ll like your instructor, whoever he is.”

  “Pleeeaaase?”

  “I’m going to get another beer,” he said as he stood up from his chair. “You want another one?”

  I was almost finished with mine, so I said, “Sure. But don’t think I didn’t notice you were running away from my question.”

  “I take the fifth,” he said, as he walked into the house.

  “You can’t take the fifth!” I called after him. “It’s not a legal proceeding.”

  “It sure feels like it,” he said over his shoulder.

  I rolled my eyes and snorted. “You have no idea,” I muttered to myself.

  I finished the rest of my Corona by the time he came back with a new one. He handed me the new bottle, then picked a couple of limes and squeezed them into both his bottle and mine.

  “Very impressive,” I said. “With hands that powerful, I’m sure you’re really good with paddling out into waves.”

  “Doesn’t make me a good teacher.”

  “Pleeeaase,” I begged.

  He groaned. “Do you even have a board?”

  I was about to say ‘no,’ when I thought back to what he’d done with his own board earlier.

  “Oh my God… your surf board… those guys probably stole it!”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “No really, I’ll buy you another one,” I insisted.

  “I’ve got a couple, don’t worry about it.”

  “But they’re really expensive, right?”

  “Another reason you shouldn’t be buying it.”

  “I have money,” I said defensively.

  “Use it to buy lessons, then.”

  “I’ll buy you a board… and you teach me how to surf, okay?”

  “Wait.” He scrunched up his face in mock confusion. “You’re buying the board to replace the one I used to save you – so how do I end up giving you surfing lessons?”

  “Because of my feminine charms?”

  “More like feminine wiles,” he said darkly.

  I lifted my beer in salute. “Brah.”

  “You know, you probably don’t wanna say ‘brah’ right after you talk about your feminine charms.”

  “Oh my God – not ‘bra’ like brassiere – like bro!” I protested.

  He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”

  Annoyed that he was able to keep getting my goat, I reach down, grabbed one of the squeezed lime rinds from the ground, and threw it at him.

  “Hey!” he exclaimed. “No food fights!”

  “You’re going to teach me how to surf, right?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not if you keep embarrassing me!”

  “I think you’re the one who keeps embarrassing yourself.”

  “Give me another lime,” I demanded.

  “Why?”

  “So I can throw it at you.”

  “No, I’m cutting you off,” he teased. “Too many limes for you, young lady.”

  I stood up and walked over to the tree. “Fine, I’ll get them myself.” I picked one off the branch and turned around threateningly – although, I have to admit, it was more like a threatening character in a goofy cartoon. “Are you going to teach me to surf?”

  “No.”

  I threw the lime at him. Not too hard, but enough to make a nice thwack when it hit his oversized arm.

  Mmm… his very muscular arm.

  I picked another lime from the branches.

  “Are you going to teach me to surf?”

  “No.”

  I threw the lime at him.

  He laughed and put up his arms as it bounced off his chest.

  “What was all that stuff earlier about not wasting limes?” he asked.

  “Like you said, there’s more than enough to go around,” I said as I picked another. “Are you going to teach me how to surf?”

  “No!” he exclaimed. So I threw another lime at him.

  “You little punk,” he said, and reached down and grabbed the limes off the ground.

  “Hey – watch it,” I warned, as I picked another two or three. “I have a whole arsenal here.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s see what you can do with it,” he said, as he threw the first one at me. Within seconds we were in an all-out fight, limes and sticky pieces of pulp flying through the air. I yelped and laughed and dodged and picked and threw all at the same time. He was grinning and laughing, too, and then suddenly he was standing up out of his chair.

  He grabbed my arms and pulled my body against his. I felt my soft curves press against his hard, muscular body.

  Suddenly we stopped laughing, and looked deep into each other’s eyes.

  I held my breath, waiting.

  Please, I thought, just lean in and kiss me.

  It’s like he read my mind. He started to lean in the tiniest bit…

  I closed my eyes halfway and leaned in, too –

  At that exact moment, someone knocked on the wooden fence.

  “Venice Police Department,” a serious voice said.

  Just like that, the spell was broken. We looked at the gate, then at each other, and he released my arms. We self-consciously retreated a couple of feet away from each other and I hugged my arm
s around my sides.

  The moment was over.

  13

  Ian went over to the gate and let them in. One was short and Hispanic named Officer Martinez, and the other was a tall white guy named Officer Smith. They were friendly enough, and didn’t make any sort of comments about how they’d just heard us laughing only a little while after a brutal attack. It was nice that they didn’t expect us to be having a funeral or a wake or anything, and didn’t question the validity of what had happened.

  We talked to them for about 20 minutes. We explained what happened, gave them the description of our attackers, and told them about the ringleader with the cornrows. The only part where they raised their eyebrows was when I told them how Ian had stopped them with a surfboard.

  “I know it sounds incredible, but he did it,” I insisted. “He was very brave. He basically stopped them single-handedly.”

  Ian looked flustered. “I did what I could.”

  “Well, I’m glad somebody was there,” Martinez said. “Either of you seen these guys around before?”

  I shook my head. “I just moved here yesterday.”

  “I have,” Ian said. “They’re regulars on the boardwalk, but I don’t know their names.”

  The cops asked more questions and jotted down a bunch of notes, and said they would put out a bulletin for anybody matching the description.

  At the end, Officer Martinez asked me, “Would you like us to take you home, miss?”

  I looked over at Ian. More than anything, I wanted to stay here. I wanted to drink another beer, and get into another lime fight, and have him kiss me.

  And maybe more.

  Instead, he just looked at me noncommittally, like he wasn’t even remotely thinking the same thing.

  I turned back to the cops. “Uhhhh… I guess that would be smart, huh?”

  “Probably. This isn’t the safest neighborhood, and you’ve already had one run-in tonight. I wouldn’t advise chancing a second one.”

  I still struggled to keep my lime-fight and kiss dreams alive. “I mean, I’m only a couple of blocks away – ”

  “I’d rather we keep you safe, ma’am.”

  I gave in. “Okay.”

  The cops gave Ian a card and said, “We’ll be in touch. Call us if you see those guys on the boulevard.”

  Ian nodded, pocketed the card, and then looked at me.

  We stood there in silence for a few seconds. I inwardly pleaded Come on, tell me to stay. Ask to walk me home.

  This time, he didn’t come through.

  “Well… thank you for everything,” I said. “I mean it.”

  “You’re welcome.” His voice was polite, but nowhere near as warm as it had been when we were horsing around.

  “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

  He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

  “No – it was definitely something. It meant a lot to me.”

  Because he wasn’t making a move, I put out my hand. It seemed to hang mid-air several seconds before he finally reached out and shook it.

  “Well… see you around,” I said.

  “See you around,” he agreed.

  Martinez ushered me towards the gate. Ian walked over as though to close it behind us, but instead he stood there watching as the cops escorted me to their patrol car.

  My heart was sinking in my chest. I wanted so badly for him to –

  “Katie,” he called out.

  I fairly whipped around, I was so excited. “Yes?”

  “7AM tomorrow in front of Muscle Beach. Be ready to surf.”

  My heart leapt in my chest. “Okay!” I called out exuberantly.

  He made a face like he wasn’t sure why he’d just done that, then gave me a wry smile as he closed the gate.

  “Goodnight!” I cried out.

  “Goodnight,” came his disembodied voice over the wooden fence.

  14

  As the cops drove me back home, they lectured me gently on keeping safe in the neighborhood. I pretended to listen to them, but I was really only thinking about one thing.

  After they finished, Officer Martinez asked, “Any questions?”

  “Yes,” I said, in consternation, “where’s Muscle Beach? Is it another beach like Santa Monica?”

  Both of them laughed.

  “No,” Martinez explained, “it’s a gym down on the boardwalk. From here, you should be able to just walk down to the beach, take a left, and it’s about 200 yards south.”

  “But not tonight,” Officer Smith ordered.

  “Of course not!” I said indignantly.

  “Didn’t you hear the dude?” Martinez asked his partner. “She’s got a date tomorrow morning, man.”

  “I don’t know that it’s a date,” I said. Although I fervently hoped it was a date.

  “It was a date,” Martinez reassured me.

  “You think so?” I asked hopefully.

  “Pretty sure. This where you live?”

  We said our goodbyes, I thanked them, and as they drove away, Martinez called out his open window. “Good luck on your date tomorrow!”

  Then the police cruiser sped down the street, turned, and was gone from sight.

  15

  When I unlocked the door and walked in, Aisha wasn’t home yet. Spooked by everything that had happened, I deadbolted the door behind me and turned on all the lights in the house.

  The first thing I did was go into the bathroom and look at myself. Geez! My hair was a mess, I didn’t have any makeup on, and I had little lime pips stuck to my clothing in weird places where he’d pelted me.

  My heart sank.

  No wonder he wasn’t into teaching me to surf. How could he possibly be attracted to me looking like THIS?

  I shook it off.

  Doesn’t matter – he already said yes. So when I show up, I’m going to look GOOD.

  I walked into my bedroom, found my cell phone, and set the alarm for 6AM.

  Jeez – why does it have to be so early?

  It didn’t matter – I didn’t care. I had a shot with the hottest guy I’d ever seen, and I wasn’t going to mess it up.

  I took a shower to get all of the lime gunk out of my hair, put on some moisturizer, and then got into bed. I was still slightly buzzed from the beer, and totally ramped up from meeting him – so I knew there was no way I was going to be able to sleep. I was just too excited.

  All I could think about were his piercing blue eyes… his mop of blonde hair… that hot-as-hell scruff on his granite jaw… his blinding pearly white teeth…

  Those muscles… his chest… his arms.

  No matter what, I knew I was way too excited … to go…

  …to sleep…

  16

  The alarm went off waaaaay too damn early.

  I mean, yes, it went off at 6AM, which is exactly when it was supposed to – but it was still WAY too damn early.

  I stumbled out of bed, half-conscious. My hands were stiff from the scrapes. I unwrapped the bandages, winced, and wrapped them back up.

  Then I stumbled into the kitchen. There was a coffee maker, but it wasn’t a Keurig like I was accustomed to. I had no idea where the coffee was, or exactly how much I was supposed to put in, or how much water – so I decided on Starbucks instead.

  I took a quick shower, getting my bandages all wet, but I didn’t particularly care. I figured they’d be soaked after my first surfing lesson.

  As soon as I got out of the shower, though, I panicked – because all I had to wear was the one-piece Kansas bathing suit. Groooaan.

  This was a nightmare – I was going to look like some frumpy mid-western chick.

  Nothing wrong with frumpy mid-western chicks, but I wanted to make a good impression on a super-hot surfer. I’m sure he saw California models all day long. This was going to be a disaster…

  I thought about going to buy a bikini at the shop I’d visited the day before – but it was closed. There’s no way it would be open before 10
AM.

  Dammit.

  …oh well.

  If it was a choice between going in a one-piece or not going at all, then I would go out there and do my best with what I had.

  Although I pulled a t-shirt and shorts on over it anyway. That way I could at least ignore the one-piece while I looked in the mirror.

  I fixed my makeup as best I could, trying to keep it natural-looking and not like I was trying to look good at 7AM (even though I was). By the time I was finished, it was past 6:30. I grabbed an apple and ate it as I raced out of the house, found the Starbucks, grabbed two caramel macchiatos, and then raced back down to the beach. I was running dangerously close to being late, though I hoped and prayed that he was a true Californian. In the two weeks I’d been in LA, I’d noticed people here didn’t seem to give a damn about time. They always blamed being 30 minutes late on ‘traffic.’

  I followed the cop’s directions from the previous night and made my way down to Muscle Beach. Venice is beautiful in the morning – only the surfers and the hardcore exercisers are out, running or rollerblading up and down the boardwalk before they go to work. All the weirdos were gone, and there were only a few homeless guys sleeping under palm trees and in the doorways of shops. They were easy enough to overlook in favor of the beautiful light sparkling on the waves.

  I found the Muscle Beach gym, then looked out over the sand. There he was – male perfection in board shorts. He was shirtless, his muscles rippling beneath his golden skin. I almost dropped my coffees; I know my jaw definitely dropped.

  He saw me looking at him, and waved me over impatiently. I hustled across the sand and tried to stop blushing from getting busted mid-ogle.

  “You’re late,” he said grumpily.

  I thrust out one of the coffees as a sort of peace offering.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, just as prickly as he had been the other morning during the Sex Wax Incident.

  “Why so grumpy?” I asked.

  “Because somebody dragooned me into teaching her how to surf.”

  My heart was dropping just as fast as my hopes. This wasn’t the way I had envisioned it. I didn’t expect a lime fight and looking meaningfully into each other’s eyes before we locked lips – but this certainly wasn’t it, either.