The hope was still alive that I could bang Arizona’s brains out and, hopefully, get her out of my system for good and move on.
“What the hell, Austin?” she screamed. “I was in the middle of a showing when I got a call from school that you skipped out after lunch. Then I track your phone, only to discover you’re playing hooky at the beach?”
Yikes. He was in deeper trouble than I’d initially thought.
She pushed her sunglasses up so that they rested atop her head, her blue eyes scanning her brother critically. “And where did you get a wetsuit and surfboard?”
The lanky teenager shrugged. “Rented it.”
“Rented it,” Arizona huffed, her face growing redder by the minute. “With what money? Do I need to start keeping track of how much cash I keep in my wallet?”
Austin’s air of nonchalance faded in an instant, and his jaw clenched. “Did you just accuse me ofstealing?”
Propping the hand not holding her shoes on her hip, she didn’t back down. “Well, did you?”
“No, Arizona. I earned it by mowing Mrs. Yates’s yard.”
The suspicion never left her eyes. “So, you won’t mind if I call her and ask, then, will you?”
“Nice to know you don’t trust meat all.” Anger colored his words.
She scoffed. “You want trust? You have to earn it. And skipping school to go surfing isn’t the way to do that.”
Neither of them seemed to care that they were engaging in a heated altercation in public, nor did they notice that fellow beachgoers had begun to stare.
Hoping to cool things down, I inserted myself into their conversation. “I’m sure you can remember what it was like at his age. School stresses you out, and it doesn’t feel like your parents understand you. He needed a release.”
Arizona’s head whipped in my direction. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but this doesn’t concern—” Her words cut off abruptly, then came a growled “You.”
Strategically positioning myself behind my board so she couldn’t see that my dick had suffered significant shrinkage beneath my skintight wetsuit—the Pacific was cold as fuck—I flashed her a grin. “Miss me?”
Blue gaze sharpening, she bit out, “Are you stalking me?”
I reared back at the accusation. “What? No!”
She scoffed. “You expect me to believe it’s pure coincidence that I find you with my brother after the stunt you pulled?”
Austin’s head moved on a swivel as he watched our interaction. “Uh, do you two know each other?”
“Wish I didn’t,” Arizona muttered under her breath.
“She’s my realtor,” I explained.
“Former realtor. You’re Brad’s problem now.”
“Wait, are you the professional athlete client?” Austin asked.
My chest puffed out. “That’s me.”
“No shit,” he breathed.
“Language!” The sharp reprimand came from Arizona.
Ignoring her, he asked, “What sport?”
“Hockey.”
Austin cringed. “Oof. The Surf suck.”
