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This was a paddle battle Buchanan was going to lose.
Andy pulled ahead another body length. Then she was there, hitting the wave's crest before her contender and forcing Buchanan to fall back or risk a penalty.
Now Andy had a shot. And not just at third. This wave was big. Probably the biggest the beach had seen all day. Probably bigger than what she was used to.
Luke tossed his binoculars and jumped from his chair, kicking up sand everywhere. “You’ve got this!” he cheered, striding down the beach as his wife zipped down the line of that wave, ramping up speed with quick little carving turns. “Come on, Firebird!”
Andy bottom-turned, bringing the nose of her board up to the top of the wave, and just as she’d done before, she snapped it around in a sharp U-turn, but this time she kept going with the turn. Rotating her board all the way around. And doing it so fucking cleanly on the curling lip of the wave, Luke couldn’t hold back the roar rising in his throat.
“Whoooooooo!”
Luke thrust his fists in the air, hollering like a madman as Andy capped that 360 with a perfect little floater at the tail end of the wave, just skimming her board over the crumbling whitewater before exiting.
Luke didn’t know who was screaming louder when the horn finally blew. Him or Tim. Or maybe it was Dylan, who’d materialized at his side.
“Dude!” he said. “Check out that score! I think Pops likes what he saw.”
Luke glanced back to the judges' table, where two were holding up nines and the other three — including former pro Lio Kahele — were holding up tens.
“Hell, yes!”
That was the highest single score all day and enough to have Andy finishing second overall.
Luke let out another roar of a cheer as Andy paddled back into shore, a huge smile on her face.
As soon as she slipped off her board in the shallows and jogged up to the beach, she was swept up in a hug from her father. Andy squeezed him back fiercely before ripping at her ankle leash and thrusting her board at him.
Luke didn’t miss the man’s eye roll as she continued running. Tim knew as well as Luke did right where Andy was headed.
She had her routines, after all.
Other well-wishers rushed towards her as she raced up the sand. Kyle, Dylan, and Mary cheering and throwing up shakas. Frankie hopping up and down like a pint-sized, pig-tailed, Rocky with her fists thrust towards the sky. Andy smiled at the adulation, but her feet didn’t slow in the slightest.
No, those sand-caked feet sped up. They sped up because Andy’s eyes had locked on him, and she had her routines.
With a grin, Luke opened his arms wide just as she sprang up. Wet limbs wrapped around his torso as he caught her, the momentum of their bodies sending them backward into the sand. Dripping wet hair formed a curtain around his face as Andy kissed the hell out of him, her lips so cold on his skin, yet warm at the same time. Just like the rest of her that was drenching his body in seawater while simultaneously setting it on fire.
“Love you,” she said, panting the words between kisses.
“Love you too,” he whispered back. “You just took Pacific Beach by storm, Firebird. Your first surf contest and you finished second. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
She grinned, lashes sparkling with water, big blues with a competitive glint. “Second is okay but…”
He snorted. “Give it another year. At this rate, you really will be gunning for the Olympics.”
She giggled, then cocked her head. “On second thought, second is good. It’s real good. I like the number two.”
“You do, huh?”
“Hmm.” Andy glanced away from him, face growing soft in the way it always did when she spotted their son.
Luke’s gaze flickered to the side to see Davis standing a few feet from them with Caspian back at her hip, babbling up a storm.
“Beebirbeebirbeebir!”
No, the boy wasn’t a Justin Bieber fan.
Beebir meant Andy. Near as they both could tell, it was Cas’s approximation of Little Bird since Luke was always calling her that.
