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He chuckled, his tongue darting out and tasting the skin along my jaw. I was never going to look at kitchen cabinets the same again. Gone were the days of watching HGTV. I’d be wet at the mere mention of paint swatches and shaker cabinets. I wasn’t mad about it.
He straightened, hands still gripping my hips. “Shall we move on?”
I draped my arms around his neck. “I’ve gotta be honest, I’ve never had a house tour that was quite this hands on.”
“You don’t like it?” he purred, leaning forward to bump my nose with his.
“No, no, I do. I really do.”
His head snapped up. “Well, we might need to postpone the rest of the tour until after your lesson.”
I blew out a breath. He was such a tease, I wasn't sure if my poor vagina could take it much longer.
“Okay, fine, let’s go surfing.”
He whooped, kissing me hard before putting me back on my feet and leading the way back into the living room where we’d left our bags. I was pretty sure I was out of my mind, agreeing to go surfing in the middle of December. But I was also stubborn, and didn’t like to shy away from a challenge, so I wanted to at least try and do it. Even if it ended with me shivering and sore and maybe in a bad mood. Not that any bad mood would last long with Mack around.
Unsurprisingly, the bathing suit—a practical, black two-piece—and wetsuit Mack had chosen fit like they’d been made for me. Before we went out in the blustery weather, I was given a mini intro-lesson in the warmth and comfort of the living room.
“You ready to go?” Mack asked when he was satisfied I grasped the very basics.
“No, but let’s do it anyway.”
“That’s my girl.”
Surfing was awful. Or rather, I was awful at it. However, I was pretty sure I had a skewed view of the sport having my first real experience of it in winter, when shortly after we entered the water I could barely feel my fingers or my toes even with booties and gloves on. And the first time I dove under a wave I got the most intense brain freeze of my life. I was convinced I was going to throw up. I had no idea what possessed people to do this on a regular basis.
We were far from the only ones out here. The rest of the considerable crowd all braved the conditions with a smile. Maybe all this time in the cold water had affected their brains. It seemed to be the only explanation.
Naturally, Mack was a great teacher—patient and helpful and endlessly encouraging. But there was only so much a wonderful teacher could do with a student who would rather gnaw off their own hand than stay in the water a minute longer.
“Come on, Bodhi, let’s get you warmed up,” he said and I could have cried. He scooped us both up onto the large board and paddled us into shore. His strength as he propelled us through the water was incredible, my own arms could barely get just me up and over a wave. How his teeth weren’t chattering was also beyond me.
“I was terrible,” I said, the words wobbly as I shivered and skipped across the sand beside him. If I did not get into the car right now I was going to freeze solid. I was about to be a Chase-shaped ice block.
“It was your first time. And it wasn’t exactly ideal conditions.”
I shoved his shoulder. “You said it was ideal conditions! That’s why we’re here.Ideal conditions.” My eyelashes were icy. This was it. This was the end.
“Well, yes, the conditions themselves were ideal, but maybe not the temperature.”
“The temperature is a good fifty degrees south of ideal. Next time it needs to be over ninety. Maybe even a hundred.” Why were we so far from the car? Had it really been this far down to the water?
“Next time? There is going to be a next time? I haven’t ruined it for you entirely?”
“If I don’t lose my finger between now and dinner, I’ll consider it.”
He grinned and I knew I’d say yes to just about anything if he kept looking at me like that. I might even go back in the water tomorrow. No, that was too far. We made it to the car—finally—and Mack instructed me to strip off my wetsuit and get in while he strapped the board to the roof. When we left, I’d asked why we couldn’t just walk. I definitely got it now. My toes were already dangerously close to dropping off as it was.
I peeled the wetsuit off and couldn’t stop my squawk as the icy wind buffeted against me. This was absolutely mad.
Once inside the car, I turned the heater up to ‘high’ and wrapped myself in one of the large, fluffy towels we’d brought along. My fingers were stark white, there was no blood left in them.
Soon enough, Mack was in the driver's seat, wrapped in his own towel, and we drove the embarrassingly short distance to the house. I couldn’t remember ever being so cold in my life.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. I need whiskey. Or hot cocoa. Or whiskey in hot cocoa,” I said as we raced inside, very grateful that we’d turned the heating on before we left.
“You need a hot shower,” he said, rubbing my arms.
