Page 35 of The Surfer

13

RIPLEY

I don’t expectCove to be there at the beach before I am, that’s pretty surprising.

But it’s good to see him standing on the beach, looking every part the surfer boy I know he is.

I bite my lip when I spot him. He’s wearing nothing but his tight board shorts that are just begging to be ripped off.

Hot damn.

He looks so strong standing there with his muscular arms crossed and with the rising morning sun behind him, his medium-length bleach-blonde hair swaying softly in the ocean breeze. The way his blue eyes spot me from across the parking lot makes my stomach turn in such tight knots that I just know will be nearly impossible to untangle.

God, he’s so handsome.

Typical me to start fancying the hot asshole.

He’s that cocky surfer dude I endlessly dreamt and fantasized about when I was a little girl. The guy who’s so confident and sure of himself and his abilities, especially in the ocean. The guy who can easily pick you up in his strong arms and sprint into the sea without any strain. The guy who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else except for you. Only you.

The cocky and confident guy I used to dream about is standing right there at the bottom of the steps leading into the beach.

Cove Finn is one hell of a hunk, and the sight of him makes my little heart flutter like a butterfly.

No, Ripley. You know what he’s like.

A heartbreaker.

A player.

An asshole.

A guy who doesn’t care about anything other than where the next hit of pleasure is coming from, whether that’s from a joint or from a girl.

Remember who he is.

Cove Finn is dangerous. Dangerous for the job I’m hired by Sandy to do, but most of all, dangerous for my heart.

And now I’m walking straight towards him. Towards danger.

Towards Cove Finn.

“Hello, American girl,” he greets me as I skip down the stairs and feel my feet reach the warm sand of the beach. I refuse to be dragged into his little games, so I ignore his snarky nickname for me. Today is more important than to be annoyed by Cove Finn’s taunts.

“You ready, then?” I ask.

Cove raises a curious eyebrow. “Ready for your first surfing lesson?”

“Yeah.”

“Only if you are.” Cove brushes past me back up the stairs, beckoning me to follow with a wave of his hand. I roll my eyes and chase after him as he strolls quickly across the parking lot and towards his car. He pulls off a small surfboard that’s securely fastened to the top of the car and throws it towards me. I catch it awkwardly. The thing is lighter and smoother than I anticipated.

“Is this your surfboard?” I ask, feeling the edge of the thing.

Cove points at it. “This is the first surfboard I ever owned, back when I was a teenager.”

His first-ever surfboard? I like that. It makes me feel like I’m holding onto a bit of his soul in my hands. I like how he shares that fact with me. This thing must be super precious to Cove and yet he’s allowing me to use it. I kinda felt honored.

The surfboard’s a piece of his history.