Riding the Wave (12 page)

T
he fact that Avalon was still annoyed with Tanner the next day didn’t surprise him. What freaked him out to hell and gone was how much it bothered him.

“You sure you don’t want me to smile and say cheese?” He knew it was the last thing in the world she wanted, but at least the question got a look from her.

The family surf shop wasn’t a huge venue, but an hour before the place opened, its emptiness took over. The long, narrow place smelled of surf wax, salt, and a hint of coconut. Racks and shelves were filled with everything water-related. Shorts, bikinis, flip-flops. The back quarter was devoted to Sage’s boards, a few demonstration pieces along the walls.

In the center of the room, toward the huge plate-glass window, sat the squared-off front counter. Tanner claimed a spot where the corner curved. His hand brushed the side of the register.

He couldn’t even count how many afternoons he’d spent working that register, counting out change to tourists. It hadn’t been his favorite activity.

Watching Avalon fling attitude around as she
evaluated her cameras was almost enough to drown out the memories of a teenager affected with permanent wanderlust. The girl was certainly cute when she was annoyed.

With an impatient hand, she flicked her long bangs out of her eyes, then slanted him some decent side-eye. For all her irritation, she didn’t seem capable of exactly ignoring him either.

He hadn’t ever liked being ignored, so that was a definite win.

“You,” she said, wagging a long, black lens at him, “are an asshole.”

He grinned. “And you’re not very good at maintaining the silent treatment.”

“I wasn’t giving you the silent treatment. I was keeping my mouth closed until I had something nice to say. Your own mother taught me that.”

“Calling me an asshole is something nice?” Surprise lifted his brows. “I’m not sure I want to know what you’re holding back.”

She tucked lenses and cameras back into her bag with precise, sharp moves. Everything had a padded slot and little zippered compartments kept tiny pieces in order.

The slim T-shirt she wore rose up in the back as she bent to tuck her camera case beneath the counter. Her spine was a delicate curve, and her khaki shorts dipped enough to reveal the dimples at the base of her spine.

Tanner slipped off the counter, his feet slapping on the ground. He rested his hands behind himself on the counter. No matter how much he wanted to touch her, he couldn’t. Not yet.

He had no doubt he’d get back in her panties before too long. If it hadn’t been for a meeting he’d had with
one of his sponsors, he’d have devoted his whole morning to Avalon.

God only knew she was a damned sight better time than practically everything else in his life.

Like the fact that his knees groaned in protest when he hopped off the counter. Old man. At thirty-one. It was beyond ridiculous.

But the five-mile run this morning had taken a lot out of him.

She stood up again, this time with the black camera curled protectively in her hands. The Canon, if he remembered right. She ran off a series of shots of him, ranging him in a half circle.

He ought to be used to it by now. The way she took photographs was something akin to breathing, like she couldn’t shut it off if she wanted to. He doubted that she even realized what she did half the time.

The tiny acts, one by one, built a huge shield. He wanted to pick it apart, piece by piece, until he knew what was underneath.

But he didn’t have the time.

He made himself rest his elbows on the counter, leaning backward. The smile he wore was his usual public-appearances look, and it did the job well enough to nail him plenty of sponsors. “Are you sure you want to stick around? I’m hanging out for a while. Not worth taking pictures of.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not missing this one for the world.” She wedged herself into the far corner of the counter, leaning on one elbow. He could reach out and touch her too damn easily. The soft cotton of her shirt would feel good under his fingers. “Big, bad Tanner Wright meeting and greeting? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not meeting and greeting.” Something hot burned across the back of his neck. “I’m hanging out in Mom’s surf shop for a while.”

Darkness flitted across her eyes. She ran a surprisingly gentle hand over the black Formica counter top. “Do you really think she’ll do it?”

“Sell the joint?” He couldn’t help another look around. Despite the changes in clothing and colors and light fixtures, the place was still pretty much the same as when he’d been in school.

He and his dad used to stop by before morning surf sessions to grab whatever last-minute items they needed. An extra pack of surf wax, a new pair of board shorts. Tanner had always liked the dimness, as if they were wandering through a partly make-believe world. But his dad had always immediately flipped on the lights.

Tanner shook his head. “It’s her choice.”

“No way. It’s more than that.” A mulish pout took over her mouth. He wanted to bite her bottom lip. “This is your family business.”

“What exactly are you implying?”

She turned her face down toward the digital display of her camera, but then looked at him from under the dark, thick fan of her lashes. He wondered what it would be like to feel them flutter against his skin. He coughed, as if that would have any effect on his half-awake cock.

“You could step in.” She clicked a button on her camera, but she couldn’t be paying attention to whatever it was. “Insist she keep it.”

“No way,” he said, but her words went somewhere down inside him and caught hold with wicked little nails. “That’s not my choice. I can’t make her do anything. And I can’t keep the store myself.”

Her mouth opened, but then she shut it on a little shake of her head. She slapped the counter lightly as she rounded it, heading toward the front window. “Come on. It’s time to open up shop.”

“That’s not your job anymore.” His hand flashed out, caught her by the elbow. “And it’s not what you were going to say.”

“You wouldn’t like it.” She ducked out of his grip. Camera dangling from one hand, the strap wound around her wrist, she keyed the alarm off the front door, then unlocked it. “And Krissy is still in back, putting the final touches on next week’s schedule. She’ll be out any second. Not sure we should start this now.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

But then she did the oddest thing. Stepped near him. Not exactly close enough for him to lean down and kiss her, but nearer than casual contact. The girl knew how to work a man when she felt like it.

“Keeping it open would keep your dad’s legacy alive.”

“Jesus fucked, why the hell would I do that?” He stepped back fast enough that someone who didn’t know better would think him almost scared. More like pissed as hell. Something hot burned across his shoulders and dove down his spine in a curved pinch. “In case you’ve missed it, I’ve been trying to duck Dad for almost ten years. Not to mention he seemed to have misplaced his dick at some point. I’m not really into his legacy bullshit.”

She shook her head. The hand she set on his forearm was both soft and shaking a little. “Fine, then think of it this way: This store matters. That’s the important part. There are people who rely on it. They come from an hour away to shop here. How crazy is that? Wright Break is an institution. I think your mom needs it more than she
wants to admit right now too. I don’t want her making any rash decisions while she’s upset.”

Fuck, he didn’t want to have anything to do with it. But the way Avalon looked at him, with her huge eyes turned up and her lips barely parted, was proving to be pretty damn kryptonite-like. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

No way had he really said that. Had he? Crap.

She lit up. No two ways about it. The apples of her cheeks rounded until her eyes were almost squints and her smile turned huge. Lifting up on her toes, she kissed him. “That’s good enough.”

“Better be,” he said, pushing as much grumble into his voice as he could manage. But truth was, he liked making Avalon happy a little too much.

Hell, he needed something to do once his career ended, didn’t he? Scrubbing a hand over his head, he looked past Avalon’s dark head. Could he do retail?

Probably not. More than a couple hours inside on a gorgeous day left him itchy at the edges. His feet would feel too confined in real shoes and he’d be eager to surf at the first opportunity.

That wasn’t even taking into account living under his father’s shadow. Definitely not his style.

Avalon brushed another kiss over his jaw. The girl was so definitely wound up. Not to mention, almost absurdly easy to please. He hadn’t even agreed to anything definite, come to think about it. And she was fawning all over him like he’d won the championship. There was something relaxing about her.

His hands found purchase along the sleek curve of her waist. No point in letting an opportunity like this escape. He took her mouth and pushed the kiss deep,
tasting the smile on her mouth. The only thing that stopped him was bumbling footsteps from the back.

Krissy took her place at the front register, but not before giving Tanner a sly smile and tugging down her bright blue Wright Break T-shirt. He only smiled in return.

So he was kissing Avalon in public. Not like she was his dirty little secret or anything, but he trusted the Wright Break staff to keep things under wraps anyway. Avalon wouldn’t want too many people talking about them. In fact, he turned back to Avalon and brushed hair out of her eyes.

More like any chance he got to touch her was a very good thing. “If Mom wants to sell, though . . . She’s incredibly stubborn.”

“No, she’s not.” Avalon’s chin took on a stubborn angle of its own. “She’s incredibly sweet. Eileen doesn’t deserve to lose everything because she’s upset.”

He felt that one right under his ribs, a hard fist of contrition slamming through him. “More like she’s not your mom. She’s never had to put the crackdown on you.”

“That’s what you think.” Her soft smile made him curious what secrets she was hiding.

“Name one.”

“Hmm.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, then glanced up at him. Pink washed across her cheeks. “How about the time that I talked Sage into sneaking out of the house and going to a party at Ricky Talbot’s house?”

“You didn’t. All the way down in Newport?” Tanner laughed. Under his grip, her sides were sleek and smooth. He snuck his thumbs up under the hem of her T-shirt. “I knew Ricky’s older brother.”

“I know you did. You were supposed to be at the
party. First time you’d even been back in California after you stopped talking to your dad.” But she shook her head, as if declining to head down that road. She dangled her wrists behind his neck, her ever-present camera strap grazing his back. The tips of her breasts didn’t quite brush him. Damn it. “But your mom found out somehow. She was waiting outside for us. Never even made it inside.”

“Probably Sage.”

She gasped, making a pretty O of her mouth. “No way.”

He nodded. “She was always a scaredy-cat in certain situations. She’d call me and talk about how you were going to get her in trouble, ask me for help.”

Stunned shock widened her eyes and opened her lips. Avalon laughed, then wiggled her way out of his arms. “Did you tell her to rat us out?”

“Not that time, but I would have.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and couldn’t help his smile. “No way could I have my kid sister at a rager like that one.”

“I was so upset that I didn’t get to see you that weekend.” She smiled around the words, but something dark wriggled behind her eyes. “Sage met you in Long Beach, but I . . . I didn’t.”

“You wanted to see me?”

She flashed a wider smile, then lifted her camera. Armored up again. “Didn’t every girl in Southern California?”

T
wo hours later, Avalon still couldn’t believe what she’d almost admitted.

There was absolutely no reason in the world for Tanner to know she’d had a crush on him when she was seventeen. He’d been a world-traveling surf star already and twenty-three. When he’d stopped coming to the house, it had felt like losing a heart she’d never realized she had.

Tanner chilled out at the front of the store, looking every bit the gorgeous man worthy of a teenager’s crush. In fact, the two blondes who bubbled and bobbed in front of him were probably still teenagers too. He smiled and joked with them, then signed a pale pink visor, of all things.

Much like she figured he would have humored her if she’d actually made it to that party. Tanner was a good guy. He wouldn’t have taken advantage of her, even if she’d been young and dumb. He was too good for that.

Sage had shown up at the store for a while, but then she’d headed to the back, where music had heralded the beginning of her creative process. Avalon was always faintly surprised to hear heavy-duty rock leaking through
the door, no matter how many times Sage explained she needed to “hit a deeper point of her subconscious” when she was working.

Avalon wasn’t nearly as hippy-esque about her work. Checking her watch, she realized it was more or less lunchtime. She stowed away her cameras, then slid over toward Tanner.

He was still laughing and talking with the young women, but white strain at the corners of his eyes gave him away. He was certainly not having a good time.

She thought about leaving him to his own devices, but even she wasn’t that cruel. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she tucked herself into his side. “Ready to go, sugarnibs?”

His eyebrows almost climbed into his hairline, but he tossed his arm around her shoulders in response. “Sure.” He slid another smile toward the matched pair of blondes. “Sorry, but we’ve got to go.”

“We’ve got a date,” Avalon said, opening her eyes as wide as she could. “Matching pedicures.”

The teenagers’ gazes dropped instantly to Tanner’s feet. But they were big and strong and not decorated with even a smidge of polish. The girl on the left caught on faster, heaving what looked like a relieved sigh and grinning at Avalon.

Five minutes later, they stood outside on the sidewalk. Holding back the smirk was too incredibly difficult. Putting on her sunglasses, she probably failed. Then she grinned.

“Sugarnibs?” Tanner echoed. “Seriously? Do I look like a ‘sugarnibs’ to you?”

No. Not at all. Wearing a pair of board shorts and a
white shirt emblazoned with WavePro’s logo, his feet shoulder-width apart in an easy stance, he looked lickable. Fuckable.

And a little too much like her hero.

He’d only agreed to think about saving Wright Break. No promises.

She’d learned the hard way that even promises didn’t mean much. Not without follow-through.

After a nano-quick check up and down the street to make sure she didn’t see anyone she knew, she leaned up on her toes and kissed him. With her eyes closed, it was harder to paint him in rainbow colors. Not to mention dirty thoughts went a long way toward de-hero-fying.

Her head spun when he kissed her, every time. The tingling under her skin threatened to incinerate every speck of caution she possessed, but she was beginning to wonder if she really minded. Her fingers dipped underneath his waistband. The tiniest brush of manly hair reminded her how far she could go for him.

But a public street wasn’t exactly the place to try licking his skin. No matter how badly she wanted him.

She pulled back, her fingers still twined in his belt loop. “I solemnly swear never to imply you get pedicures again. You forgive me?” She delivered the words with her best enticing smile.

His big paw curved around the back of her neck. Warmth and steadiness dove through her and anchored her. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”

“No, not this time. But I
will
buy you lunch.”

“I think you owe me anyway.” He nodded solemnly.

“You’re out of your mind. Again.” They swung into alignment, walking down the street without having to
consult each other. Most of the lunch options were closer toward the beach, the better to grab some of the tourist trade. “If anything, you owe me. Do you know how long I’ll have to answer questions from Sage? She’s going to drive me batshit crazy.”

“Funny, she hasn’t asked me a thing.” He walked with his hand still at the back of her neck. A sun-worshipping beast, his face turned up a little toward the sky. If she didn’t know how much he lived for the water, between his golden hair and prowling way of walking she’d call him a lion.

Who’d apparently decided to claim her for the foreseeable future. There was no way of telling how long the attention would last, but she’d enjoy it while it lasted.

They agreed on a sandwich place tucked behind two tourist traps specializing in souvenirs, even as Tanner teased her that she needed something a little more substantial to put some meat on her bones—along with a sneaky butt grab.

She swatted his hand off her ass as she stepped into the shadowy sandwich shop. To be honest, she didn’t mind. What red-blooded girl would mind if a hottie like Tanner was paying her attention? Not her.

But then her feet jerked to such an abrupt stop, she almost slid out of her flip-flops. And Tanner ran smack into her backside. She spun, flattening one hand over Tanner’s chest. “Go, let’s go.”

“What? What is it?” He looked over her head easily, and the golden cheer fell straight out of his expression. “Son of a bitch.”

Cold, shivering fear wove through her bones. Jack and Mako sat a mere three tables away, each with subs and fries in red plastic baskets before them. He’d seemed fairly ordinary the other night, but today it was like seeing the
boogeyman. Her stomach gave a disconcerting flip. She set her back teeth together, letting the slight pain of wrenching them tight hold her together.

Jack hopped up immediately, but Mako only rested his elbows on the table. He twiddled his fingers in a smart-ass kind of wave. His dark hair fell across his forehead. Wiry shoulders filled out a plain T-shirt.

She’d liked him better when she hadn’t known who he was.

Nobody could help to whom they were born. If that were true, she wouldn’t have been born to her mother, not by a long shot. She’d have picked a family more like the Wrights. Which meant she couldn’t bear to watch it fall apart.

Really, if Mako was Hank’s son, that meant he ought to have a place in the family too. It only made sense that he’d want to know them. Except he’d gone about it in absolutely the shittiest way possible. The Wright family guarded their privacy fiercely.

She urged Tanner back out the door. She didn’t really want to be anywhere around Mako. Her skin would like to stop crawling anytime now. But she couldn’t let Tanner start trouble in the middle of a public place, either. “You don’t want to do this.”

The fists at his sides said otherwise. His dark glower set his jawline in a sharp angle.

On the street, he turned and started to stomp away, but the slam of the mesh-screened door stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder.

Jack stood in front of the plate-glass window, his arms crossed over his chest. “Look, mate,” he said, his Australian accent lilting. “I know you’ve always had a bit of a problem with me.”

Tanner’s shoulders bowed up. The man could work some intimidation when it suited him.

Avalon ought to be afraid, or at the very least a bit disgusted. Good guys didn’t solve problems with fists.

The warmth settling between her thighs said otherwise. She wasn’t exactly creaming her panties yet, but they were most certainly warm. Because Tanner wasn’t exactly solving his problems with fists—despite his obvious frustration and anger, he was holding back. Every sharp line of his body popped with restrained tension.

The very promise of danger held back was enough to make her inappropriately happy for the situation.

She forced a cough into her fingertips but it did nothing to batten down the heat weaving through her.

When Tanner stepped forward, his arms thick, it only got worse. “You’re damned right I do. You’re a showoff, Crews. If the fancy cars and the interviews weren’t enough, you’re a showoff on the water too.”

Jack lifted his hands, palms out, to his shoulders. Both men had blue eyes, but Jack’s were vibrant. Avalon liked the pure calm of Tanner’s much better. “I’m not looking to cause more problems. But you ought to know the bloke’s not here for trouble.”

“You have no idea what’s going on here.” Tanner’s mouth twisted, the faint scar turning white. “So why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

Jack flicked a look at Avalon out of the corner of his eye. He rubbed one hand over the artful scruff covering his jaw. “I do know.”

“Motherfucker,” Tanner muttered. He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

Avalon couldn’t stay away, not when he was so obviously upset. She wrapped one hand around his arm, but
even his forearm had gone rock hard. The touch she soothed over his back didn’t seem to make a dent. He was still hard as steel beneath the worn cotton of his shirt.

“Like it’s not enough he talked to that fucking magazine,” he said, somewhere between a grumble and a curse. He didn’t sound happy at the idea at all. “Now everyone in the universe is going to know.”

“Thanks, jackass. Nope, I’ve no idea of how to keep a secret. Lips like your turns in the last WavePro surf vid. Sloppy.” Jack leaned back on his heels, his expression as sardonic as possible. His eyebrows knotted and his finely carved mouth quirked.

“Fuck you, Crews.”

“Thanks. You’re not my type.”

“Jesus Christ, get you two together and it’s like you’re both in the UFC, not the ASP.” Avalon kept her words light, but really she couldn’t allow them to keep going down that path. “C’mon, Tanner, let’s go. You owe me lunch.”

“First, wait.” Jack waved a hand. “Listen, Mako’s in town for talks to buy a T-shirt line. It’s no big deal, nothing to do with you and your family.”

Tanner shook his head. “You might want to believe that, but I know better.”

“But look, it can’t hurt,” Jack went on.

“What can’t hurt?”

“Meet with Mako.”

A few seconds ago, Avalon wouldn’t have thought that Tanner could have gotten any more wound up. But she’d have been wrong. He rocked forward on his toes, his fists rolling. “I already did, against my will. Like fucking hell is it happening again.”

Jack shrugged. “Fine. No skin off my nose. Figured it
was worth a try.” He tipped a wave at Avalon, along with one of the devastating smiles he was known for. Everything else aside, she’d kill for the opportunity to photograph him soon. “Take care, Avvie.” He slipped back into the sandwich shop.

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but Tanner didn’t. His brows lowered and hard-etched lines marked his mouth. “Avvie? You’ve never told me that’s your nickname.”

“Because it’s not.” She tugged him by the arm and at least this time he came along. Her stomach wasn’t even in the mood for lunch anymore, but they needed
somewhere
to go. So she detoured into the nearest pizza place.

Dark ocher walls were draped with fake grapevines along the top. Tourists filled almost every table, and lined up at the aluminum service counter, looking both exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Not to mention, sunburned. Most of them looked two shades short of melanoma burned.

At least none of them noticed the barely leashed fury of the beast at her side. Tanner focused his gaze toward the menu board, but he didn’t seem to be seeing it. “If that’s not your nickname, why did Jack call you by it?”

“Why does that guy do anything? To irritate and crawl under your skin?” She lifted an eyebrow even as she traced fingertips over the inside of his wrist. His pulse still pounded at a breakneck pace. “That’s not what you’re really annoyed over, so don’t even try to make it a big deal. Understand?”