Ethans Fal (15 page)

“Okay, whatever. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

I close my eyes and think that you have to let people in for them to hurt you, and even if I didn’t have a stellar IQ, after what Cal did to me, I won’t let that happen again. Ethan affects my body and the shock of my reaction is something I need to come to grips with, but it’s not love. Lust–raw, filthy, hot, and sexy; out of my control and comfort zones, plus all of the above, but not love. I look up into his soft, curious, dark-brown eyes. “Besides, you are so wrong if you think I’m looking for commitment. But I do need a favour?”

“You name it.”

“Is it still okay for me to keep my locker here, you know, until I get my place back? Only, I feel awkward now I don’t work here–”

“Seriously, that’s your concern? Wow, I thought you were smart.
Mi Casa Es Su Casa
and always will be. I’ll get a key cut if it helps, but I’m always here so it isn’t necessary.”

“No. No key. Just a place to stash my stuff and maybe the sofa when it rains; that would be sweet, thank you.” I lean up and kiss his bearded cheek.

“Jeeze, you are easy to please.” He ruffles my hair and holds the door wide for me to pass. I poke his scruffy facial hair.

“You know, this will have to go when Honey gets back.” I laugh at his instant killer smile.

“I’d have a full back sack and crack, if it would stop her from touring.”

“Ew, Buddy! I have a visual now…gross.” I slap my hand to my mouth and make exaggerated heaving noises. “Don’t get me wrong, I like a wax as much as the next girl, but you’re like my brother, and no sister should have that image.”

“All I’m saying is I have no problem losing the beard for my baby girl.”

“Oh, my God, Buddy. Could you be any more adorable? When does she get back?”“Another six weeks; she’s just started the Australian leg, then she's home for a whole month.” He eagerly rubs his hands together.

“Well, when arse-hat leaves, I am happy to cover your shifts to give you a little extra Honey time. Just say the word and it will be our little secret.” I give him a cheeky wink.

“Ethan doesn’t like secrets, especially when women are involved, but we’ve got all summer to win him ’round.”

“He’s staying the whole summer? But Sky said he only ever did the odd and infrequent flying visit?” My tummy knots and I don’t know whether it’s with pleasure or anxiety.

“Nope, not this time. He told me he is here for the summer, to play.” Buddy flashes a warning look my way, and I cringe a little at the futility of its timing–too little too late.

THE BEACH IS
busy but even with the people packed like brightly coloured sprinkles on an ice cream cone, I can see Ada. How is that exactly? It’s like I can feel the air around me move and nudge me to look in a certain direction. She even has a ridiculous floppy hat, which covers her face completely, but I would recognise those legs anywhere. My fingers tingle with the memory of her delicate skin and the pin prick bumps my touch ignited. I watch from my elevated position on the Life Guard station, because days like this Gus, the Chief Guard, is not going to turn away an extra pair of eyes. The station is situated in the centre of the beach, and the sand stretches half a mile end-to-end, but with my binoculars she’s in touching distance. Not creepy at all. I watch her carefully straighten out a large blanket, a sun shade, and then spend a good twenty minutes taking some items out of her bag and placing them on the ground. I can’t make out what it is and I’m curious enough to find out. Actually, I don’t care what it is, but she has spent so long setting it all up, I know she won’t want to move, and I know exactly where I intend to pitch up my look-out post today. I slip my Peterson rescue tube over my back, grab a folding chair, and pick my path through dense clusters of mini encampments. Wind breakers surround towels and circle enclosures like picket fences, affording a degree of privacy and securing holiday-makers their own personal plot in paradise. Each of the poles pitched in the sand holding the breakers in place has a garment hanging, swimsuit, T-shirts, or wetsuits. All drying in the breeze and flying like flags staked on the newly claimed land. I don’t recognise any of the faces, but this is high tourist season, so anyone local would be working. It looks like that’s exactly what Ada is doing. Across the beach from me, fiddling with the hair of a small child, I can just make out the movements of her braiding the long strands of hair.

I don’t approach right away. She is sat crossed-legged, and her frayed white shorts have crept high on her thigh. She is wearing an oversized, sleeveless, grey T-shirt with scooped cut out sides, exposing a black string bikini top. The swell of her breast curve spills out just a little under the tiny material, and her soft skin folds in ripples at her over bent posture. A deceptive image, she has sensual curves in all the best places, but that body is toned and fit. Her skin is a lighter tan than sitting all day in the sun would cause, so I would guess she doesn’t do this for extended periods. Or she is smothered in factor fifty. I like the idea of spreading suntan lotion on all that silken skin. I watch her nimble fingers twist and wrap metallic threads round and around a single strand of some young girl’s hair. There must be a hundred different coloured cotton threads laid neatly on the blanket. The grin on the small girls face is bursting with excitement, and from her profile, I can see Ada’s lips are curved in a tender smile. I can’t hear what they are chatting about, but it is an easy conversation for both. A mix of fits of giggles from the girl and a few belly laughs from Ada. That sound is almost as sexy as she is. When she finishes, the little girl jumps up and hugs her flat against the ground. The mother hands Ada some money and now I feel like a complete shit and wish I wasn’t wearing my official beach patrol badge. No pedlars on the beach. She is definitely going to think I have a vendetta, but this actually has nothing to do with me. The local council is strict about this and keeps the traders to the harbour wall and I think, having spent any time here, she would know this.

“So, for someone not wanting my attention, you are not so subtle, Miss?” I stand with the sun to my back and she has to crane her neck back to look in my eyes. Her hat flops and she folds it back in a big half circle, which now looks like a dumb cowboy hat. Adorable. She ignores my attempt to illicit her surname.

“I’m not talking to you. That little stunt you pulled in the library cost me….” She hesitates and holds back what it cost her. Every time we speak, she intrigues me a little more. I need to keep it fun, and I will, but she is curious, nevertheless. “I think it’s best I do your damn cleaning and we forget
everything
else.” She blushes, shakes the sand from her legs, and stands, even leaning up onto her toes to pointlessly try and even out the height difference.

“Oh, you do, do you?” I shake my head and narrow my eyes with heat that rivals the mid-morning sun overhead. “Ada, that’s not going to happen.” I touch my finger to the centre of her collar bone. “We
are
going to happen.” She barks out an incredulous laugh, but I dip to meet her gaze and I can see her eyes betray her indignation at my confidence. “But not today. Because, I am about to piss you off. In my defence, I take no pleasure in it, which personally I consider a crime.”

She puts her hands on her hips, a prematurely defensive position. “You mean piss me off
more
. I’m listening.”

“You have to pack up. No pedlars…no trade on the beach, Ada.”

“Fuck! Really? What are you the pedlars police?” she snaps.

“Actually kind of…I’m one of the life guards and we keep the beach safe, so yeah!” Her scowl has me pulling my hand through my hair. I can hear how pompous I sound, and I have the decency to feel awkward about it, shifting my feet through the sand with evident unease.

“Life Guard…of course! Why should that surprise me?” She drops her head and I see her draw a deep breath. I steal myself for her wrath. But she exhales, her smile holds a sinister curl. “Ethan”–my name on those lips make my balls ache–“I’m not peddling on the beach. So, you can go on about your job with a clear conscience. The beach is safe from such perils today, at least.”

“Ada, I just saw you braid that girls hair.” I point to the retreating child with her mother.

“And?” she asks in all affected innocence.

“
And
the mother paid you, ergo you are trading on the beach.” Her smile is fixed and I feel like I’m the one not ‘getting’ this situation.

“Ethan, I braided that girls hair because she asked me to, and her mother simply returned some money I had leant her.” Her face is impassive but her fingers on her left hand actually cross. I know she’s lying–she knows I know she’s lying.

“You leant that woman money?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care. You can go and ask her if you can find her in the crowd, but the bottom line is you can’t prove anything. So, how about you go do your thing and leave me to do mine.”

“Your thing being?”

“Making a little girl’s day.” She purses her lip in an overt challenge, but I have no inclination to fight her on this. As explanations go, I’m sure Gus would accept it, it’s unlikely we would get any complaints.

“Fine.” I pull the folding chair out and push it firmly into the sand just beside her blanket looking out toward the outgoing tide. I pull my T-shirt over my head, and smile when I catch her pinch her lips tight and hold her breath, her mouth snapping shut. “All right, darling, you can watch me do
my
thing.” She raises a curious brow waiting for clarification. “Making many a big girl’s day.” I stride off to the water’s edge to do my first sweep of the beach.

I don’t get to take a break until my shift is nearly over. It’s just after five before I make my way back to my chair and grunt when I flop down. My mistake to think there was some cushioning; I lean forward and rub the ache in my arse cheek. Ada is just finishing a tribal scroll pattern in henna down the spine of a teenage boy. I don’t see any money exchange but I’m off the clock, and really don’t give a crap. I close my eyes but jump when a solid ice cold weight hits my stomach. My hand instinctively snatches at it.

“Thought you could use some rehydration.” Ada takes a swig from her own bottled water and I uncap mine; I drink it all down. I emptied my own bottle over an hour ago and it’s still sweltering with no shade and little breeze.

“Thanks. Nice to know you’ve been thinking about me.” I tuck the empty bottle in her bag of rubbish and slowly wipe the drips from my mouth. Her eyes briefly fix on my lips before she looks away.

“Yeah, well, rubbing all that sun lotion in must be thirsty work. I can’t believe you get paid for that shit.” She sniffs with a look of contempt and a glint in her eye of something else.

“Aw baby, you jealous?” I laugh out loud at her thunderous expression. “What can I say, it’s a dirty job. Besides, I don’t get paid, I’m a volunteer, but I’m not going to lie, it’s nice work if you can get it.” Folding my arms behind my head, I close my eyes when she turns away. But not before her eyes have greedily soaked up the stretch of my bare V-line, exposed with my raised arms and the lift of my T-shirt. “It’s okay, you can look.” I tease, but she falls quiet and some minutes later, her voice is strangely contemplative.