Risking It All

“Not anymore,” she said. “Not when he’s an arrogant, obnoxious, ‘look at me I’m a surfing God’—”

“Talking about me?”

She almost fell off the stool when she heard that low, sexy “do it to me baby” voice behind her.

Hold it together, she told herself firmly. You don’t owe this guy a thing.

“Not everything is about you,” she said, turning to look up into his eyes. Big mistake. That electric current she’d felt running between them was still there and strong, and yes, it certainly was all about him because he looked just as good dry.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Cash said, and when did his eyes get bluer?

“Can I help you with something?” she asked finally.

“Actually, this arrogant, obnoxious, surfing God is here to help you,” he said.

“You’ve already done enough,” she said. “We had a fight,” she told the dark-haired man standing next to Cash.

“Who won?” the man asked, and Rina reluctantly pointed a finger at Cash, who shook his head and looked up toward the sky as if some divine intervention could save him from all of this.

“Mike, this is Rina,” Cash said.

“Mike, your friend ruined my video and threatened to call my boss,” she said, and noted that Stella watched the whole scene with growing amusement.

“She doesn’t seem that uptight to me,” Mike said to Cash.

“You told him I was uptight?”

“You are uptight. Too much city and not enough of the beach in you,” Cash explained.

“And I suppose you’re the man to change all that, right? The one to set me on the path to a Zenlike relaxation, beginning with what? I’d bet you’d suggest a mind-blowing orgasm,” she said, before she could stop herself, because the Mai Tai’s were in control now.

Funny thing, Cash didn’t seem to mind a bit. And she wanted him to mind, although she wasn’t sure why.

Note to self—no sleep plus Mai Tais does not equal a great combination.

“She won’t remember this come morning, so I’ll tell you,” Cash addressed Stella.

“Yeah, that’s it. Talk to the blonde,” Rina muttered. Stella kicked her shin lightly, and Mike looked amused by the whole thing. “Well, go ahead. Don’t let me stop you,” she said to Cash, who threw her one last scowl before shifting his attention to Stella.

“Your cameraman’s Zoot, right? Purple hair?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Stella said.

“Well, I had him film some footage of Mike, the man who taught me everything I know about big-wave surfing. I had Zoot show me what he’d shot of me and we tried to recreate it, using Mike, so Rina, the non-blonde with the attitude over here, wouldn’t have too much work to do.”

“Wow. That’s great of you.” Stella turned to her. “Did you hear that? This could really work.”

“It won’t be the same,” Rina replied, even as Stella and the other surfer began talking about release forms.

“Hey, it’s the best I could do,” Cash told her. He then murmured something about stubborn women never being satisfied, and walked off into the crowd.

Even in her Mai Tai haze, she knew she owed him an apology. He didn’t have to find a replacement, didn’t have to seek her out at all. But why he did…now that was worth finding out.

“Hey!” she called over the crowd that was gathered at the door to the bar. He didn’t acknowledge her and she was forced to half chase him through the parking lot. “Cash, please wait,” she said.

He finally turned, so fast she kind of crashed against him. “You smell good,” she whispered, from where her nose was buried against his shirt. Smelled like sun, sand and beach, and she’d bet he tasted like the beach, too, all hot and tangy and salty.

“That’s what you followed me out here to say?”

She lifted her head. “No. I wanted to apologize.”

“By smelling me?”

“By telling you I’m sorry,” she said, backing away from him.

“I’m not sure if that’s how they give apologies up north, but I’ve got to say, as apologies go, that’s probably the worst one I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the way it happens up north, so take it or leave it,” she said.

“Guess I’ll leave it then.” He turned to go, but she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, suddenly dizzy from the walk and the alcohol. Things seemed to be spinning when all she wanted was for everything to hold still. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t want to go back in there,” she told him. Cash really shouldn’t care. He sighed, looked up at the sky as if that would offer him some way out of all this. She looked up, too. “That’s a beautiful sky.”

“Surfing’s going to kick ass tomorrow,” he said. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

He took her by the elbow, mainly because she’d started walking in the opposite direction from the hotel and together they strolled the two blocks, taking the beach route instead of the road.

She followed his lead, kicked off her shoes once they hit the beach, and she liked the way the cool sand moved between her toes. Liked it so much that she just stopped and flexed her toes.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“This just feels nice. I haven’t gotten to the beach much this trip.”

“Except to yell at me.”

He took her arm and they began to move forward, the sound of the waves rushing toward shore in the background, the cool air blowing her hair back and her skirt around and everything felt so good. Heightened.

“Speaking of yelling, in the film, you were fighting with some guy. Something about dropping in.”

He laughed. “Saw me at my best, did you?”

“You were really pissed.”

“I guess you’d recognize that emotion,” he teased. “Dropping in’s when someone jumps into the wave you’re already riding. Screws the ride up majorly, and there’s nothing that ticks me off more than someone who can’t wait their turn.”

“Why did you make that new tape for me?” she asked. He looked at her for a second before he answered, the look that made her body tingle and her blood heat.

“Because it seemed important enough to you.”