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I need the feel of chasing a wave to clear my head and bleed out this anger burning through my system. I absolutely cannot believe the balls on that chick and the words she spewed at me. How dare she treat me like a cheap trick or a toy for her to pull out whenever she feels ready to play with it?
These fucking rich pricks treat us all like we’re disposable and should cater to their every whim. Perhaps that’s what really pisses me off the most—we really are disposable pawns to them and they could easily toss us aside with a casual flick of their wrists.
And what’s worse is the knowledge that I might have just messed things up once again for my brothers and our future, all because of another fucking woman who wanted to sleep with me.
Sitting up, I straddle my board with my legs in the water, waiting for the perfect wave to head my way. I’m usually a patient man. I’ll wait out here all day if I have to, because I need this right now almost more than I need air to breathe.
Greer
“Hey, Greer, wait up!”
Fuck me. I stop in my tracks and plaster a fake smile on my face, waiting for Tristan to catch up with me.
I skipped breakfast, hoping to avoid Tristan and find a hideout on the beach for the day, delaying the inevitable until dinnertime. At least our parents will be there, and if I stay close enough to them, I should be safe from Tristan’s attempts to shove his tongue down my throat.
“Going to the beach?”
No shit, Sherlock! Unfortunately the bikini strings peeking from my cover up and the oversized beach bag hanging from my shoulder are a dead giveaway, so I stifle an eye roll and nod, resigned to my destiny.
Now there’s no way I’ll look for a secluded spot. With Tristan in tow, I want to be as out in the open as possible just in case he gets strange ideas.
I mean, the guy isn’t ugly or anything, but he definitely isn’t my type, and when he kissed me last night… no spark, none whatsoever.
I don’t have a lot of experience with men, but I know for sure that I didn’t like how kissing Tristan felt, so all I can offer him is a friendship, and he’ll have to accept that, right? Either way, I’d rather not encourage him by being alone with him.
“Yeah, I was going to check out all the water sports on offer. Daddy said there’s surfing, kayaking, water skiing, and a lot of other interesting stuff.”
Tristan wraps one arm around my shoulders, making me immediately feel claustrophobic. “Sure, let’s go check out what this place has to offer.”
“Awesome.” I beam, faking an enthusiasm I don’t feel while using it as an excuse to run ahead and escape his hold.
I don’t slow down, not even when my toes meet with the warm, fine sand of the beach. I keep running toward the water but stop when I see two figures on the still deserted beach.
One is a tall, blond, muscular guy standing in front of a surfboard. The other figure is a woman with straight blond hair and the tiniest white bikini I’ve ever seen. The woman is kneeling on the surfboard in front of the man with her face at crotch height and both hands on the guy’s hips.
I slow down, hesitating for a moment because of the intimate nature of their position, thinking that maybe those two are a couple, but that’s when the man pushes the woman away. When she lands sideways on the sand, he picks up the surfboard and runs into the water as if the hounds of hell are nipping at his heels, leaving the woman behind.
I take a few steps closer, mesmerized by the way the man’s muscles bulge under his golden, tan skin as he moves with effortless grace despite his tall, muscular frame.
I keep walking closer with my eyes trained on him, wanting to get closer like a moth to a flame, but I stop in my tracks as I get closer to the woman, who is now standing up and looking at the guy with unmistakable tension in her slim shoulders.
I realize the woman in the tiny bikini is my sister, and I reluctantly take a few more steps toward her when Tristan hollers at her.
“Hey, Chel!”
She turns, smiling at us, but I can see she’s trying to compose herself. Whatever happened between her and the blond hottie didn’t go Chelsea’s way, because I recognize the furious light in her pale blue eyes, that same light she has whenever someone doesn’t follow her orders. Bending over at the waist, she plucks a pair of sunglasses out of the sand and shakes them off.
“Hey, Tristan.” She smiles, completely ignoring me. “I was taking a surfing lesson, but apparently I wasn’t doing too well because the instructor decided to give me a demonstration.” She points at the guy who’s now paddling out, lying down on the surfboard.
It’s windy today, and the waves are big, but he doesn’t look scared or hesitant. He keeps going farther until he stops as if he was waiting for something. He suddenly stands up on the board with a fluid, graceful movement at the same time as a high, fast wave lifts his board and he rides it. His knees are bent, and his arms are spread out for balance. The man seems totally in his element, and I can’t take my eyes off of him.
“Well fuck, if you booked a lesson, he should teachyouhow to surf rather than show off that way,” Tristan drawls arrogantly and loudly enough for the guy to hear him as he gets out of the water and walks toward us. “If he treats all his paying customers this way, people will be put off from taking lessons from him, and he won’t last long here.”
“I was just giving Chelsea a demonstration of what I’m sure she’ll be able to do by the end of the summer if she has the perseverance to practice,” the guy says, throwing an annoyed glance toward Tristan. “Did you want a lesson too, dude? I’m Brady, by the way.”
He offers his hand to shake, but Tristan rudely crosses his arms over his chest, jutting his chin up in challenge.
“There’s nothing you can teach me on a surfboard,dude.And to you, by the way, I’m Mr. Aldridge. My father is thinking about investing in this place, so I’m practically your boss.”
