Making Waves: A Perfect Kisses Novella (5 page)

“I understand.” When she straightened and faced him, Will reached out, carefully resting a hand on her shoulder, longing to remove the sadness from her eyes—if only temporarily. He didn’t know what he could do to help. What he
wanted
to do was obvious, but kissing her would be helping
him
not her. Still, his fingers curled around the top of her shoulder, offering as much comfort as appropriate.

“What are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked.

“Type the article then email it to my editor. Hopefully it will be online tonight.”

Right. The interview
. That damn devil on his shoulder was hissing now.

He nudged his arm against hers. “I hope you know how much my life is currently in your hands.” He’d said it with a light touch, but he’d never been more somber.

“I intend on making you sound both deliciously human and incredibly badass.” She nudged him back.

Not for the first time today, he felt his two personas at odds. The Will side had faith that she would keep her promise. Then he would be free to come clean with her about the rest of the story. But the shielded Chase side wasn’t ready to trust her completely…not until he’d seen exactly what she’d written.

“What about after you finish writing?” he asked.

“Driving my rental back to Honolulu, I guess.”

“You have your laptop with you?”

“In the car. Why?”

The Chase side of his brain was way ahead of his mouth. “What if I drive you down the island? You can write your article while I chauffer.”

“Really?”

“You might have more questions,” he said, the Will side justifying the scheme with logic. “And we still need to eat. There’s a taco stand along the way.”

“Sounds great. Thanks.”

“Give me a minute to change.” He pointed at the Eddie logo on his rash guard shirt. “No reason to draw attention.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I forgot who I was with for a second. You’re famous.”

Will chuckled. “Hardly. My face isn’t as recognizable when I’m not attached to a surfboard.” Without thinking, he started pulling his shirt over his head.

Chapter Five

Justine knew she was ogling him as obviously as she had that morning, but she couldn’t make herself stop. She’d seen Will without his shirt on at the beach, but there was something about being alone with him in a hotel room…with a view of the ocean and a king-size bed right there…

Not noticing her ogle, or maybe being polite and not calling attention to it, Will draped his wetsuit top over his shoulder, then disappeared around the corner. She was tempted to follow him—not wanting to miss one second of his bare chest. Instead, she sucked in a breath and turned toward the water, trying
not
to imagine what was going on around that corner.

A few people were on the beach. A family, maybe, with two little kids. Justine could hear their laughter and happy shrieking as they played in the surf. A sharp desire that she hadn’t felt in a long time pressed against her heart.

A few minutes later, Will reappeared in long gray board shorts and a white T-shirt. His dark hair still had those sexy windblown curls. She wondered what it would be like to twirl one of them around her finger.

“Ready?” he asked.

In the Jeep, they headed back to Waimea Bay.

“I’ll drop you here,” Will said, idling in front of her car. “There’s some empty spots up the hill. Will you come pick me up?”

She noticed the pretty good-sized crowd on the beach. Will probably didn’t want to get nabbed. Knowing that he’d rather be with her than with his adoring fans made a different pang of desire flare in her chest.

He’d been nothing but sweet to her all day—not like the bastard she’d pegged him for after he’d disappeared. And she still couldn’t get that kiss out of her mind. If she’d set out to get over her feelings for Will Davenport today, she was doing one hell of a crap job at it.

“Sure,” she said, opening the door and sliding out. She stood outside her rental and kept an eye on his Jeep, noting where he parked.

Will apparently wasn’t as stealthy as he thought, because by the time she drove up to meet him, there were five or six kids surrounding him. When he saw her pull up, he climbed out of the Jeep, gave some fist bumps, then walked to the driver’s side of her car.

“Scoot over,” he said through the open window.

“Why?”

“Because I’m driving so you can type.”

“Gotcha.”

She was about to climb over the center console when Will opened the door and held out his hand. She slid hers inside it and he pulled her to her feet. She kind of accidentally bumped into his chest on the way out. Well, maybe not so accidentally. She saw his muscles through his shirt—they’d just needed a closer, physical inspection.

As she walked around to the passenger side, she heard one of the kids behind her say, “That’s the girl he macked on after the finals.” Justine pressed her lips together, trying not to grin.

“You’re sure you have time to take off today?” she asked as they started back down the windy highway. “Don’t other people want to meet you?”

“Honestly”—he ran a hand under his chin—“there are some events I should attend, but nobody will be surprised if I don’t show.” He glanced her way. “Chase Ryder is kind of a recluse.”

“And Will Davenport isn’t?”

“Davenport has an excuse.” He flashed a smile.

“Which is?”

“He’s a computer programmer who works from home for half the year. Recluse goes with the territory.” He eyed her closed laptop. “Shouldn’t you get started?”

Justine didn’t want to stop talking to him, though. He was funny and charming, just like the guy she thought she’d been falling for back home. While they drove down the coast, she made it a point to run complicated facts by him, keeping their conversation going.

“Why is it so important to keep your real name a secret?” she asked.

By then, she was mostly done with the article. First, she’d transposed her handwritten notes to the bottom of a Word document, then started writing at the top, copying and pasting, rearranging until it sounded perfect. She’d even gone the extra mile and composed two versions, one briefly mentioning that the famous surfer went by two names. Although, she’d kind of almost totally decided to not go that route—knowing what happened between them last year was becoming more and more important.

“
Off
the record,” she added, flashing him a smile while closing her laptop as a gesture of trust.

Before speaking, Will flipped his sun visor and rolled up the window. “For starters, I haven’t always been the well-adjusted guy you see today. When I was starting out, I let the fame go to my head. I was a bigger douchebag that Justin Beaver.”

“Bieber,” Justine corrected.

Will laughed. “Right. Well, things got out of hand. One night, some people—
fans
, they said—broke into our house. They thought no one was home, so when my mother came downstairs, they…reacted. It was dark.”

When he didn’t go on, Justine felt herself holding her breath.

“There were ten of them. Seven took off right away with some of my trophies and clothes, but three stayed. They were high, so they probably didn’t realize… Well, that’s what the judge said, anyway. The worst of my mother’s injuries happened when one of them threw my longboard across the room before running out.
My
board.” He shook his head. “She never saw it coming.”

“Will,” Justine whispered, staring at the side of his face. “Is she…okay?”

He ran a fist over his mouth and nodded. “She spent a few nights in the hospital, but even after installing a new security system, she hardly left the house. We ended up moving and it took her a long time to feel safe again. I didn’t want to quit competing, she didn’t want me to give it up, either—she knew how much I loved it, but there was definitely a problem. My solution was to lay low. That’s why I’ve stayed away from photographers and interviews. Since then, we’ve managed to live relatively quiet lives on Oahu, but if fans or the press found out where she lives and works…” He blew out a long exhale while squinting into the sun. “Obviously, I can’t be here year-round to look out for her.”

Justine felt like a queen jackass and she made a mental note to delete the hell out of that second version of her article, no matter what happened.

“On the flip side,” Will continued, “you might not realize it but back in L.A., Chase Ryder is a pretty big deal. I’m not comparing myself to a movie star being hounded by the paparazzi, but at the beach, a famous surfer never gets a moment’s peace.”

“I get that. Thank you for telling me,” she said, sympathizing, completely understanding his situation now, and what had motivated him to seem a bit standoffish when they’d first been getting to know each other.

Damn. What if Will wasn’t a bastard? What if he was just what he seemed…a good guy, a compassionate, protective son, and an amazing kisser? This was getting complicated.

They made a pit stop for tacos at a silver van at one of the beaches along the way. Will bought the food and they sat on a rock a few yards from the water, enjoying their meal and the warmth of the late afternoon sun. Will wore sunglasses and a ball cap that he’d brought with him from the Jeep. Apparently, that was disguise enough, because no one bothered them while they ate.

“I need to find a wifi hot spot,” she said a few miles later.

He eyed her computer. “You’re already done?”

She noticed the hesitant tone in his voice, accompanied by the way he gripped the steering wheel white knuckled.

“Almost,” she said. “I’ll do a final proof before sending it.” For a second, she actually did think about showing it to him, like she needed his blessing, or wanted to put him at ease. But she’d never given any other subject the option to read a story before it went to print. Why should she make special courtesies for Will?

“Did you keep your promise?” he asked. The uncertain tone was in his voice now.

“You mean the one to make you look badass?”

He chuckled and turned on the blinker, pulling off the road and toward a residential neighborhood. “Sure, Juss. That’s what I’m worried about.”

“I took an oath to only report the truth. And I hate to tell you, Will, but you are very badass.”

He laughed. “My mother will be so proud. Speaking of…” His voice trailed off as he pointed toward a white house they were approaching. “Shoot, she’s not home.”

“Who?” Justine asked.

“My mom.”

She kept her gaze on him for a moment, then looked at the house. It was two stories with wraparound porches on each floor and the most amazing, colorful trees and vegetation in the front and both sides.

“Your mother lives here?” she asked, reaching for the door handle before the car had even stopped.

“After we had to move, it’s where I spent four months a year when I was growing up.”

She pushed open the door and was standing on grass so green and soft and spongy, it felt fake. And the view of the ocean… It was more spectacular than his five-star hotel. “Will, it’s gorgeous,” she exclaimed, walking along the side of the house where the lawn literally led right to the beach.

“She likes to garden,” he said, coming down to stand with her. “I wish she was here. I know she’d love to meet—”

“Chase!”

They both turned toward the voice. A middle-aged, very suntanned man was walking across the street toward them. He wore a white golf shirt over his ample stomach pooch and khaki shorts.

“Karl, hey,” Will said. Justine made a mental note that she was to refer to her companion as
Chase
.

“Welcome home, buddy,” the man said as they shook hands. “You staying a while?”

“Few days, maybe. I surfed at the Eddie this morning, so life might get pretty busy.”

“You’re back in the circuit?” Karl said. “That’s great, son. Scene wasn’t the same without you.”

Will chuckled and held the back of his neck, looking all modest and adorable. “I don’t know about that. Karl, this is Justine, a friend of mine from L.A.”

“Ahh, the mainland,” Karl said. “
Aloha
. If you want to know anything about this guy, I’ve lived across the street twelve years.” He leaned toward her and grinned. “I know all the dirt.”

“I’ll remember that.” Justine laughed. “And it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Karl said. “Well, gotta get back to the pit. We’re having a block party tonight.” He glanced at Justine. “Authentic Hawaiian
lu
‘
au
.”

“You have a
lu
‘
au
every
night, Karl,” Will said, punching the guy on the arm.

“But tonight is special.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “Two pigs. You should stop by.”

“Wish we could,” Will said, resting a hand in the middle of Justine’s back. “But we’re only dropping by now to jump on wifi.” Just then, two other neighbors crossed the street, greeting “Chase.”

“Juss,” Will said, leaning down to her ear. “I might be out here a while. Why don’t you head up to the back porch?” He pointed toward the stairs. “I’ve used the wifi out there a hundred times. The password is ‘catch a wave,’ no spaces.”

“Thanks,” she said, grateful for his thoughtfulness. She grabbed her laptop from the car, said a quick hello to the growing crowd of neighbors gathered on the lawn, then climbed the stairs. The sun-drenched second-story deck had dark brown planks with a waist-high railing. A gas grill, two porch swings, and a four-top table took up hardly any room on the spacious patio. Another set of stairs dropped down to the golden sand. Justine sat at a black table with turquoise chairs, did some last-minute rearranging, composed a note of explanation to her boss, then made sure she was properly connected to the internet.

The story was damn good, if she said so herself. She pushed back from the table, kicked off her flip-flops, and propped her feet on an empty chair, exhaling, letting the sound of waves and wind wash over her.
Paradise
…

“Any problems?”

She shaded her eyes to look up at Will. “Not at all.”

He sat on the chair beside her and slid on a pair of sunglasses. “You mentioned needing wifi at the perfect time. Though it’s pretty impossible to go anywhere in Le’ia and not run into people I know.”

“Especially when you’re
Chase Ryder
.” She nudged his knee with her foot.

“No one around here gives a rip about that,” Will said after a quiet laugh. “They’ve known me since I was a bratty kid. This is one of the tightest communities on Oahu.”

“You were joking about your neighborhood having a party every night, right?”

“Maybe a slight exaggeration, but no one knows how to throw a
lu
‘
au
like Karl. That’s the way it is here. There’s not much Little League or PTA, so we have beach parties.”

Justine smiled. “Sounds like my neighborhood in Franklin. Comparatively speaking, we’re a small town, too. We have pool parties and cul-de-sac potlucks.”

“Same thing.”

“Last summer, my brother Greg hosted a party at his new apartment. Half the guests came down with food poisoning. Bad crab dip.”

“Yikes.” Will cringed, showing his bottom teeth. “I remember you talking about Greg. And your sister Mackenzie—Mac. She was about to get married.”

“That’s right. It’ll be a year in January.”

Will leaned back in his chair. “I recall you were worried about your bridesmaid dress.”

“Ha! Only because green-freak Mac insisted on vintage, but since there aren’t any decent vintage shops in Franklin, we had to borrow.” She placed an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Do you remember bubble skirts from the eighties?”

“Please tell me you have a picture,” he said with a grin, grabbing her phone. For the next hour, Will looked through every photo on Justine’s cell. He asked her questions and laughed with her over silly family stories.

“Charlie’s stationed at Fort Shafter? And he’s got a thing for Michael Bublé, huh?” He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “Well, he’s no Justin Timberlake.”

“That’s a
family
secret,” Justine said. “If Ellie finds out I told you…”

“Your secret’s safe with me. And thank you, Juss.”