Page 19 of Broken Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #1)

The drive isn’t that long, maybe only fifteen minutes, the small road trailing along the ocean, the breeze blowing through the open windows. This island is literally paradise, like a postcard everywhere you look: lush and green, blue and sparkling, the sun shining.

I close my eyes, basking in the fresh air, always remembering my dad and how he told me hibiscus flowers don’t smell, but to me they smell like peace and calm and beauty. The air helps my hangover too, clearing my head.

I run a hand through my hair, pulling it back into a messy bun at the nape of my neck. I secure it with a tie from my wrist. The wind has blown it into a knotty mess, and I’m sure the water won’t help it. I’ll need another shower by the time we get back.

Nate and I don’t speak, enjoying the quiet stillness that washes over both of us. There isn’t the awkwardness I expected after what happened between us last night, and really, this morning. I’m not a confrontational person and won’t dare push him to talk about what led to the argument we had. I know enough now to know that his past is difficult for him, and that my dad was a big part of Nate being able to move on and have a normal life.

“So what’s the plan?”

I now ask as the tires come to a stop along the gravel shoulder of the road. The turquoise waters of the ocean are on one side of us, and on the other side sits a small food truck.

“Food and surfing,”

Nate replies casually as if I spend my days surfing too.

I’ve never set foot on a surfboard, but at least I do know how to swim. The trouble isn’t so much the water, it’s what lives in the water. I’ve seen Jaws a few too many times, and I look out at the water as I exit the truck.

“Are there sharks?”

I now ask, sounding way too much like a child, and Nate laughs, looking at me with a wry grin as I round the back of the truck and meet him.

“It’s their home, Sage, so yeah, there are sharks.”

“Like right where we’re going to be?”

I spit out, the panic evident. My heart rate kicks up, my palms sweating at the idea of me swimming along and there are sharks at my feet.

“No, they don’t just swim up and hang out looking to eat people. You have a fear of sharks?”

Nate asks, narrowing his eyes, gently slipping his hand into mine. His touch is warm and comforting.

“I mean, maybe. Kinda. Well, yeah, I’m from New York. Jaws.”

I say this as if this should be a perfectly normal explanation.

“That’s a movie, Sage. You’re good with me.”

His hand tightens in mine, giving a quick glance at the road, checking for cars. He tugs me in the direction of the food truck and away from the shark-infested waters.

His words play out in my head, running through over and over. You’re good with me. Things might not have been good with us last night, but I do truly feel safe with him.

“This truck has the best shrimp on the island,”

Nate tells me. “Get the garlic shrimp. You’ll love it.”

We walk up to the window, a young guy with a backward baseball cap on smiles brightly at Nate, holding out a fist. Nate bumps it.

“Mahalo, what’s going on, man?”

the guy says to Nate, looking over at me, he gives a tip of his head in a greeting.

“Just here for the best shrimp on the island and to introduce you to Mitch’s daughter. This is Sage Harris.”

Nate steps behind me, giving me space to reach up and shake the guy’s hand.

“Matt,”

he says when our hands meet. “Your dad, shit, so sorry, but he was seriously the coolest guy I’ve ever met. You’re lucky you had him raising you.”

I swallow hard at his comment. The smile I once had falls away from my face, and I feel Nate step closer to me.

The feeling of his breath dances through my hair as he whispers, “Let it go, Sage.”

He presses a soft kiss where his words linger, and it eases the pain I feel at Matt’s words. I hate the guilt that eats at me, and I have no idea if I’ll be able to move past it, struggling with it all.

On an exhale that’s meant to calm me, I reply, “Thank you. He was a great dad.”

It’s not so much a lie. He was when I let him be, and this guy doesn’t need to know all the fine details of our relationship.

“So what will it be?”

Matt says, directing his question at Nate and me, looking between both of us. “Your dad only ordered the garlic shrimp. Could never get him to try anything else.”

“I’ll have the same then.”

Nate and I take our food over to a well-worn picnic table, and he sits down across from me as we open the containers to reveal some delicious-looking food. Don’t get me wrong, the chicken long rice Alana made the other night was great, but this is on a whole other level.

“This is what you should be trying as a tourist,”

Nate says, smirking at me. “Stay away from those Mai Tais. They’ll get you every time.”

“Lesson learned,”

I groan, shaking my head. “That was not my finest hour.”

“Not mine either,”

Nate murmurs, and his throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I know you’re stepping out of your comfort zone coming surfing with me, and really just being here, so…”

He trails off, taking in a hard breath.

“It’s okay, Nate. I shouldn’t have—”

He cuts me off, his words harsh, but they hold so much meaning.

“I’m sorry I said that you lost—”

Nate starts, but he abruptly stops when I slide my hand across the table, taking his in mine.

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re both navigating something new. I’m sorry that my dad never told you about me. I know that hurts and feels like he kept it from you on purpose, but I don’t think that was the case.”

Again, Nate swallows hard, nodding in response, and a silence falls over us. I plunge my fork into the ball of rice, and as soon as it touches my tongue, the silence is broken.

“Oh my god, this is amazing and it’s just rice,”

I say, looking over my shoulder at the truck behind us, wondering if Matt just heard me basically moan like a porn star.

“Try the shrimp.”

We eat together, not really touching on all the shit we really need to talk about, but it’s fun and it helps us forget the shit we’re dealing with. The memorial service is coming up, and it’s going to be hard for us, for Nate because of his connection with my father and for me because of my lack of connection.

“You ready?”

Nate asks me, a genuine smile on his face. He really wants to teach me to surf, building that connection to my father and to something Nate truly loves. “Let’s get your cute ass on a board.”

We drop our containers in the trash, and calling a goodbye to Matt, we make our way across the street, Nate pulling the surfboards from the back of the truck.

He hands me one, and it’s smaller than the one he’s carrying. Tucking it under my arm, I follow him. Trying to look like I know what I’m doing when he hits the sand, I kick off my flip flops, the warmth and softness of the sand covers my feet.

I have no idea what I’m doing, copying everything Nate’s doing, the board under my arm, my flip flops in my hands, looking out at the water.

I have no idea what I’m looking for.

Sharks?

Waves?

Boats?

My sanity?

Nate sets his board down, and I’m about to do the same, but he comes over, placing a hand over mine, he directs me to turn the board over.

“Always place it fin-side up,”

he says, his words firm and instructional, but then he smiles at me. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he watches me, and I nearly forget why we’re here.

He reaches behind him, his hand at the nape of his neck, he grabs for his shirt, pulling it over his head, and tossing it off to the side.

And now I literally forget why we’re here.

Holy shit.

How in the hell does he look like this with his shirt off and manage to remain single? These Hawaiian girls are missing out or maybe all the guys on the island look like this, like an Adonis with a tan.

I’m ogling him, my cheeks flushing when he catches my eyes scanning his gorgeous body, the lines of his muscles, the way his boardshorts hang low on his hips, making me wonder about what he looks like without them.

“So, this one mine?”

I ask, nudging the board next to me with my foot. I have to strike up a conversation or else my mind is going to take a dark and dirty turn. Not that I would mind.

“Nope. This one is,”

Nate says, motioning to the board he set down.

“But it’s so big,”

I croak out, and that’s really not what I meant to say, as Nate lets out a low chuckle. Guess we both have the mind of a fifteen-year-old boy.

“The bigger the board,”

he says, winking at me, and now it’s me laughing, my cheeks flushing pink. “Here, take this.”

He tosses me a rash guard, it’s obviously too big, but something I’m going to need otherwise he wouldn’t have given it to me. I should have known to buy something from The Pipe Dream because surfing in my string bikini is probably not advised.

I pull off my shorts and tank and slip the rash guard on and it hits about mid-thigh, covering me up more than I thought it would. I can’t imagine this is conducive to surfing, getting tangled up in this oversized shirt, so I gather the extra material in my hand, pulling it behind me, I tie it in a knot.

“Fuck,”

he mutters, and I bite the inside of my cheek as he steps closer to me, the heat from our bodies now radiating between us.

I inhale deeply, breathing him in as his body moves closer to mine, his fingers grazing along the bare skin of my stomach, setting it on fire with just a simple touch.

“You look so fucking hot right now,”

he whispers. His words almost lost among the sound of the waves, but they now live forever in my mind.

His fingers play with the strings on the side of my bikini bottoms, his lips trailing along my jaw as he says, “First rule of surfing. Communicate. Tell people what you want.”

My mind is screaming to tell him I want him, right here on this beach. Just take me on the sand, right now. I’ll worry about the ramifications of sand in my vagina later.

My breath hitches, my heart racing and when he pulls away, I nearly scream at him. What the hell? Is this really about surfing. I was kind of hoping it was a metaphor for something else.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, City Girl,”

Nate says, leaving me bereft and wanting more. “Grab that board. We’re gonna paddle out and see if you inherited any natural talent from your dad.”

“I can already answer that,”

I say, heaving the giant board off the sand and under my arm. “The answer is no.”

“Can you even swim?”

There’s a hesitation in his question as he clenches his teeth together, hitting me with a desperate look.

“Yes, I can swim. I’m a really good swimmer. My mom would get in these phases where she would sign me up for anything and everything. She isn’t very good at sticking with things, but the swim team lasted several summers,”

I tell Nate, rambling, trying to distract myself from hot shirtless guys and sharks and sex and…

“Flat on your stomach, Sage,”

Nate commands, his board now in the water, and I do as he says. Following him as he paddles out, my feet wanting to kick unnecessarily as my arms move on the sides of the board, actually keeping up with him.

“Good girl,”

he calls out, and I laugh.

“I’m not a dog!”

“Fine! Keep up if you can!”

Nate shouts, laughing, paddling harder and leaving me behind.

But I’ll be damned if he gets to win, and I will keep up. Digging my hands into the water, I push it back with force, moving myself forward faster than I expect. My arms are going to be sore tomorrow. I just hope I can wash my hair.

When I finally catch up to him, I’m out of breath and trying not to sound like a rhino blowing and huffing. “My ass is so out of shape,”

I mutter through ragged breaths. All that Pilates has done nothing for my stamina.

“Looks pretty damn good to me,”

Nate says, his legs straddling his board now, floating out in the water.

His words are flirty and sweet, and I love the way they make my stomach flutter. Shifting so I’m now straddling the board like him, I take in a deep gulp of air.

“Okay, what’s next? And why are the waves so small?”

I have no idea why I say this. I don’t want to be surfing on something that looks like a tsunami, and I almost had a heart attack just paddling out here.

Nate lets out a deep throaty laugh that again has my stomach doing a somersault. This guy has no idea how just a simple thing is making me a wreck.

“Small waves for a newbie,”

he replies, wetting his lips and I do the same, tasting the salt of the ocean on them. “Make sure your leash is attached.”

He points to where it’s floating in the water, and I strap it to my ankle. “Now, look over your shoulder.”

I do what he says, his eyes on me.

My body ignites with an excited nervousness, my hands flat on the board, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Watch for the peak,”

Nate says, and I have no idea what that means, and as if he can read my thoughts, he adds, “It’s the highest point of the wave before you see the crest, the white stuff. You want to grab the wave right before it peaks.”

“I don’t…”

“I’ll tell you.”

We wait for a few seconds, my heart slamming hard, filling my ears with the sound, and then Nate calls out, “Paddle, Sage!”

And I do, thinking my arms couldn’t possibly do another round of paddling, but they do, not failing me in the least.

“Now stand up!”

he yells, and even though I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, I push myself off the board and suddenly I’m standing.

Holy shit.

I’m doing it. I’m surfing, the wave slowing down, taking me into the shore, but I have no idea what to do when the wave dies.

“What now?”

I scream, the board coming to a stop and sweeping itself out from under me. My ass hits the water, bouncing off the sand on the bottom of the shallow shore.

Popping up, I can see Nate laughing at me as I push the loose, wet hair from my face.

“Paddle back out!”

he calls to me, and with a massive smile on my face, I meet him where we started.

“I did it,”

I say, that nervous excitement apparent in my voice.

“You did. Natural talent,” he says.

“Beginner’s luck.”

“C’mere.”

Nate reaches across to me, his fingers deftly sliding to the back of my neck, he pulls me to him, kissing me.