(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5)

by Michelle Mankin

  Fanny stood and moved in front of me. Dropping to her knees, she took the coffee mug away and set it on the table behind her. She turned back to me and gathered my hands.

  “Olivia’s arranged for you to have time off. You should take it.”

  “I don’t know,” I said softly, afraid to be alone with my thoughts. “I don’t know where to go.”

  “Diesel’s invited you to come out to his place.”

  “Stay with Diesel?” My brows rose. That didn’t sound like a good idea.

  “No one’s going to mess with Diesel,” Ash said, and I couldn’t argue with his logic.

  “I agree with Ash,” Ernie said, nodding his head reflectively. “But who’s going to protect Hollie from Diesel?”

  “I don’t need protection. From him or anyone else. I just want to be left alone.”

  “The ocean. The sunshine. The distance from here.” Fanny ignored my protest, her tone as gentle as her grip on my fingers. “Hawaii will do you good.”

  “But—”

  “You’re going.” Fanny squeezed my hands. Apparently, she was deciding for me. “Process. Think. Relax. Unwind. Meditate. I insist. What you decide to do with your life afterward is up to you.”

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  Diesel

  At the airport, I sat on the Ninja by the curb. My feet bouncing on the pavement, I was second-guessing everything.

  Why had Hollie agreed to come?

  Why had I even invited her here?

  To help her, I reminded myself. To give her an opportunity to heal far away from that waste of oxygen that masquerades as her stepfather.

  Sure, she pissed me the hell off half the time. But she turned me on the other half.

  A lie.

  Okay, she turned me on all the time. That was why. And maybe there might be a small part of me that empathized with what she was going through, even if I didn’t like that she was going through it over another guy.

  But mostly I just wanted to fuck her.

  Staring at the arriving passenger area, I pretended I wasn’t on the edge of my seat, but I certainly was. My focus tightened as a fresh stream of people wearing straw hats and backpacks slung over their shoulders emerged. Most squinted at the intensity of the tropical sun.

  I narrowed my gaze at her as she appeared. The brilliance of her eclipsed everything.

  Hollie wore a white sundress that clung to her smoking curves and flip-flops on her dainty feet. She seemed to gravitate toward simpler fashion when she was away from the label-conscious snobbery of LA. Over one shoulder was slung a crossbody bag, traveling light, according to Fanny, who gave me strict instructions to behave myself when she called me with Hollie’s flight arrangements.

  Her moonbeam hair was tied back into a ponytail. Pushing her sunglasses on top of her head, she paused as a little girl wearing a glittery pink feathery boa stopped in front of her. Her lips framing a smile that didn’t animate her pretty gray eyes, Hollie said something to the girl, but I was too far away to hear.

  The child beamed as she handed her notebook and a pen to Hollie. Her tiny fan chirped excitedly while she signed her autograph. When the notebook and pen were returned, the little girl threw her arms around her idol’s waist.

  There was a moment of hesitation. In that moment, Hollie’s I’m okay mask slipped, and the despair that had mirrored her bleak clothes at the graveside returned.

  No, not returned. It remained. Like my own, it remained. Only with time would she get better at hiding it.

  “Hey, Holliewood,” I shouted, and she turned. The fake smile faded into wariness when she saw me. “Get a move on before they kick me out of the waiting zone.”

  She nodded. Saying good-bye to the girl, Hollie waved to the parents standing nearby and then finally moved toward me. I scanned her from top to bottom, bottom to top, entranced with the show of her sexy body in motion.

  “Hi,” she said as she stopped beside me, eyeing the bike dubiously. “I thought you were picking me up.”

  “This is me picking you up, babe.”

  “I’m not getting on that thing.” Her cute little brows drawing together, she stamped a hand to her curvy hip.

  “You wanna walk?” I fired back.

  “Um, no,” she sputtered. “I’ll call an Uber or something.”

  Frustrated, I scowled at her. “It’ll take any car service you hire at least forty-five minutes to get here,” I said, spouting the logistical shit I made up on the spot as if it were vetted truth. It pissed me off she wasn’t as excited about getting on the bike as I was to have her on it.

  Hollie scowled back. “Well, I’m wearing a dress, and I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle, anyway. So I guess I’ll just wait.”

  “You can tuck the hem around your thighs.”

  “How will I keep it there? Don’t I need to hold on to something to keep from falling off?”

  “You’ll hold on to me.” I grinned as her brows rose. “No one’s gonna see more than they would at the beach when you’re in a bikini.”

  “But I don’t have any experience.”

  “You don’t need to know how to ride. I’m doing all the driving.” I gave my explanation while thinking of a much different scenario. My erection grew, straining the ripstop material of my board shorts.

  “I don’t have a helmet.”

  “It’s not required when you’re over eighteen in Hawaii.” My impatience made me gruff. Plus, I rarely had to put any effort into getting a woman to do exactly what I wanted anymore. “You’re legal for all kinds of things now, aren’t you?”

  Deliberately, I gave her body a slow scan, feeling my lips curl from what my eyes took in. Prettiest chick with the hottest body I’d ever seen, not that I would ever tell her. Hollie probably had people blowing smoke up her ass about her looks all the time.

  “Yeah. Sure.” Her eyes seemed to go unfocused. As her hand slid low over her stomach, she suddenly looked a little green.

  “Get on the fucking bike, babe.” I barked the order, not liking her reaction. Did the idea of being with me make her physically ill? “You’re wasting my time.”

  “All right.” Hollie jolted out of her trance, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t like being bossed around.

  Too fucking bad. I wasn’t a pushover like the bodyguard. Her gray thundercloud gaze met its match in my narrowed brown one.

  “Put your hand on my shoulder, throw your leg over the seat, and hop the fuck on. It’s not rocket science, and I don’t have all day.”

  “Okay,” she said, and I felt like I’d won another Grammy instead of just her agreement. “You don’t have to yell at me.”

  “This isn’t me yelling, Pelehonuamea. If I’m yelling, I’m way the hell pissed off. I don’t suggest you continue giving me shit right now, or we’re gonna go there, right the fuck here and now. You feel me?”

  “I feel you.” She muttered something under her breath as she shuffled over.

  The instant she put her delicate hand on my shoulder, a bolt of lust blasted away all thoughts of irritation. The desire to have her thickened my blood and my erection.

  Hollie seemed to be affected by the undeniable chemistry between us too. She drew in a sharp breath, and as her fingers grazed my skin over my right shoulder, heat shot through me. My muscles swelled. My entire body tensed like an overtightened bass string.

  “I didn’t realize your wave tattoo scrolled all the way back here to your shoulder blade.” Her voice had dropped to a lower, huskier octave that wound the sensual tension inside me tighter.

  “Well, it does,” I said lamely. It was difficult to be as clever as I usually was when all the blood in my body seemed to have gone straight to my dick.

  “It’s nice. I mean, I noticed it before. I’ve just never seen it up close until now.”

  A quip was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell Hollie that I had something much better to show her than my tat, but I had a higher priority. I needed to get her out of the fuckin
g airport. I could feel the stares of more than a few pointed our way. Not because of me; the folks on the island were used to me. They’d known me since I was a kid. They didn’t give a shit that I was in a successful rock band.

  “Leg on the bike, darlin’. I appreciate the compliment, and we can talk more about you having a closer look later, but for now, let’s get outta here.” I gentled my tone, remembering my dad’s advice to treat her differently.

  “Okay,” she said.

  As I processed surprise that the gentleness worked, she worked her sensual magic on me. Her hands glided warmth through the cotton tank I wore. Skimming her fingers over my shoulders and lower, she gripped my arms below my biceps and climbed on the bike. More lust pumped into me as she settled in behind me, her feet effortlessly seeming to find the metal bars to rest on.

  “You’ll need to get closer and put your arms around my waist.” I was completely revved up. She’d gotten me to the point of seriousness fast. My cock was practically weeping for her to slide her hands lower and grip it.

  When she scooted forward and complied, I gulped fire into my throat. Swallowing hard, I put one of my hands over hers and squeezed.

  “Tighter, babe.” Fucking shit, I was primed. “Don’t want you to fall off once I get going. It might get rough.”

  Oh, hell yeah.

  Rough sex with her? My mind went hazy imagining it, which wasn’t difficult to do with her amazing rack pressed into my back and the rest of her shapely body fitted to me like a glove.

  Reluctantly, I managed to refocus, released her slender fingers, and cranked the engine. It roared to life, the fire of it matching the internal one inside me. If Hollie hadn’t been going through what she was going through, if I thought for a minute she would allow me to go where I wanted to go with her, I would have rolled the Ninja into the first semi-private spot that came along, gotten her off the bike, flipped her dress up, and pounded my cock into her.

  At the mere thought of it, I groaned.

  “Did you say something?” she asked, her mouth near my ear, her warm breath sliding silky heat into it.

  Fuck me.

  Maybe this hadn’t been such a brilliant idea. How was I going to dismount the Ninja when we arrived at the house without her noticing how eager I was to mount her?

  I zipped away from the curb with a little too much speed, putting my high-tops down on the pavement at the stop light at the end of the road before I thought of something inane to ask her.

  “Can you slide your bag to your back? It’s digging into my spine.”

  “Of course.” Hollie relinquished her hold on my waist, but not the reins on my libido that she thankfully didn’t seem to realize she controlled.

  “Better?” she asked, adjusting her crossbody and sliding her arms back into position around me. Her hands settled way too close to the top edge of my board shorts, where a monster erection strained to get out.

  “Tolerably.” My reply was as guttural as the need that told me to fuck it all and just take her.

  I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. Her tits were stamped to my back. Her nipples were tight tipped, scoring my skin and underscoring my desire.

  I told myself that I liked the current situation as I turned the Ninja onto the highway, and she pressed her heated contours closer. I imagined that this dance along the edge of my control would make her eventual surrender to me all the sweeter.

  The challenge would be not to spontaneously combust before that inevitable reality occurred.

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  Hollie

  On the Mamalahoa Highway, I held on to Diesel, resting my cheek on his back between his strong shoulders. I inhaled deeply and breathed in his tantalizing plumeria-and-coconut scent. To myself, I admitted I liked being on the back of his motorcycle, and that it had nothing to do with the novelty of the experience or the fact that I’d been inside an airport and airplanes all day.

  I liked the big island of Hawaii too. It was green and lush. The sapphire blue of the water and the verdant emerald of the topography that I’d seen from my window as the plane landed had exceeded my expectations.

  A warm, humid ocean breeze streamed through my hair. Banyan, coconut, banana, and palm trees dotted the landscape, so different from anything I’d ever experienced, reminding me—as if I could forget after my long travel day—that I was miles and miles away from everything and everyone I knew.

  I spotted some ’ohi’a lehua, the thistle blossom that shone a shiny fiery red among the leaves of a gnarled ’ohi’a tree. I’d read about the legend associated with it in the literature on the plane. In the story, two lovers, ’Ohi’a, the man, and Lehua, the woman, had been separated in life, but were joined together eternally. One was the tree, and the other the flower. It was said that if you pick lehua, the flower, from ’ohi’a, the tree would cry, and his tears would manifest as rain.

  Tears had certainly pricked my eyes from the fanciful story, and the knowledge that Max and I were forever separated. I felt guilty enjoying the breathtaking scenery that he never would. Fanny thought mourning him the way I did was excessive, but attempting to move on with my life without him felt wrong too.

  I tipped my chin up to the wind to stave off another crying jag.

  A shadow fell over us from the Mauna Kea volcano. The thirteen-thousand-foot somber gray crater punctured the blissful blue sky. Its starkness against the softer setting that surrounded it seemed to reflect my emotion.

  Why had I agreed to come?

  I was as guilt-ridden here as I’d been inside my condo. Though maybe I did feel a little less enveloped in sadness.

  I pulled in a fortifying breath, a deeper one, and maybe I did hug Diesel a little too noticeably tight as I struggled with my emotions. He put his foot down at the light and glanced back at me.

  “You doing all right back there?” His head turning brushed an ebony curl from his low ponytail into my face.

  “I’m fine.” I gave him my practiced reply, but I was far from any sort of stable mental state. “I just . . . well, your hair blew into my face, and it tickled.”

  Keeping my hands clasped around him, I rubbed my nose against his tank to facilitate the ruse. It was the wrong thing to do, just as I’d known it would be wrong to get on the motorcycle with him. Diesel’s sultriness and whatever fragrance clung to his clothing, combined with everything else sexy about him, sent my senses into overload.

  “I tied it back, but it insists on being free.” When the light changed, he lifted his feet and set us in motion again.

  If only I could break free from the darkness that seemed to shadow me like a storm cloud. But how? It seemed like an impossible task.

  “It’s okay. I’m just distracted back here, trying not to fall off.” Trying was the hardest step. Getting on the plane and coming here, it counted for something. Didn’t it?

  “You won’t fall if you hold on to me, but you don’t have to hold on so tight.”

  “Rookie mistake.” I loosened my hands from where they were clasped tightly around his trim waist.

  “Keep them there.” His voice rumbled his taut frame as his large hand covered my much smaller one. “I like them there. You just don’t have to cut off my circulation.”

  “Got it.”

  My stomach tumbled on the rich melodic currents of his voice, and I found myself engaged by him yet again in a way I hadn’t been since my world had crumbled. I knew I’d spent too much time alone, isolated inside my cocoon. The jump start back into the land of the living seemed to have happened abruptly only a few moments earlier when I’d traced my fingertips over Diesel’s satiny-smooth coppery skin and the intriguing wave inked onto it.

  Or maybe I’d awoken earlier when my gaze had met his.

  “Loosen up and go with the flow, pele. You’ll enjoy your first ride much more if you don’t fear it.”

  My cheeks flushed. I took the sexual hint he’d intended, for sure, but I also found a deeper message he likely di
dn’t intend about relinquishing the stranglehold I had on finding pleasure in life.

  As I processed deeper meanings, he slowed his speed, and I realized we were entering Hilo, which I knew from my travelogue was the largest city on the big island and hugged a crescent bay. We rolled along, windswept palm trees and the ocean on one side of us, and wooden storefronts with galleries and restaurants on the other.

  The road took us around the outer edge of downtown, then narrowed inside a mostly residential area. The ocean remained a steady presence on the right as we rose in elevation, charming houses surrounded by lanais and tropical colors giving way to an occasional restaurant or aloha-themed shop.

  As we slowed past an open-air bar that a painted sign indicated was called Manoa’s Paradise, Diesel lifted his right hand. A man standing in front of the steps with weathered coppery skin and flowing silvery hair lifted his arm in reply and rocked his hand. Diesel returned the gesture my sister would have called devil horns if the setting had been a rock concert. Here, I assumed it had a different meaning, but I didn’t know what.

  “Who was that?” I asked after turning my head and noticing the man’s gaze following us with more than casual interest.

  “Manoa. He owns Paradise. I was planning to take you there for dinner later so you can meet him.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up to that.”

  I wasn’t planning to stay long, just long enough to get my head straight. I thought Fanny had explained. I was getting ready to tell Diesel, but a bunch of shrill catcalls distracted me.

  I turned my gaze to the shoulder of the road where a bunch of loose-limbed older teenage boys walked single file with surfboards under their arms. They were probably near my age, only I didn’t feel like a teenager anymore.

  “Nice nude panties,” the one at the end of the line called out.

  I glanced down to see that my dress was no longer tucked around me.

  “You told me no one would make a big deal about me in a dress.” I tried to pinch Diesel’s middle, but there wasn’t any extra skin. He was all muscle. But I was too afraid to let go of him to punch his arm like I really wanted to.