Page 16

It’s early when my alarm goes off, and my first thought is if Flynn will be there again this morning. I have no idea how we walked away from each other yesterday after that conversation. My body is still reeling with pent-up frustration and need. It’s out of control how much this guy and his words can affect me. Every single thing he says sounds like sex, and I dream about it on the regular.

I pull myself from the bed, not really wanting to train this morning, but knowing I have to. I’m on my own today too since Daisy is helping Nate get things ready for the kids’ surf competition, and Sloane has an early class and then work.

My only hope is that Flynn is there, but it’s early enough that I don’t blame him if he’s not. He has nothing to train for and getting up at the crack of dawn to run sounds like a nightmare.

Grabbing a sports bra, I shimmy into it, and then pull on a pair of shorts before heading out into the kitchen to fill my water bottle. It’s going to be the same thing every day: train, work, eat, sleep. But I have to say, I love being back at it, missing it more than I realized.

As soon as I have my water bottle filled, I quickly brush my teeth and head out the door, hoping I haven’t woken Daisy or Sloane. I always try to be as quiet as possible, but it’s a small house, and it feels like any noise is loud at this hour.

But they don’t wake up, and I back out of the driveway, heading for the falls. It’s the best place to run, quiet and empty in the mornings, but as the day drags on, it becomes a huge tourist location. I usually have a good two or three hours before I ever see another person, and that’s exactly how I like it.

As soon as I pull off the road, I let out a chuckle.

There’s Flynn, leaning against his car, obviously waiting for me.

His legs are crossed, his arms folded over his chest, already not wearing a T-shirt, and he has these abs like artwork, sculpted and perfect.

Here I am, exhaling hard, trying to remind myself how much we could fuck everything up, and we’re already walking a fine line by him being here.

It’s early enough, though, that no one is out, and that’s what keeps me from telling him he should go. It’s not the only thing. Those fucking abs and his striking blue eyes, and the way he says my name, and the way his body moves when he surfs and how comfortable I feel around him.

Fuck my life.

Again.

And again.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says the second I’m out of the car, and I laugh. He couldn’t be any cuter with his fake surprise, just like he responded yesterday.

“Yeah, who would have thought?” I play back, smiling at him, and when we start our way toward the path, his hand presses into the small of my back.

It’s a simple gesture, something that Nate has done before, hell, even most of the guys at the shop have done it, but with Flynn, it feels like heaven. Like his hand was made to fit there, warm and comforting.

“What’s the plan today?” he now asks, his hand dropping, leaving me wanting to beg him to put it back. “You upping the distance yet?”

“Not just yet. It’s only been a couple of days and I don’t want to push it too much,” I respond back, and this is a normal conversation. It’s the kind we should be having or maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t even know anymore.

We begin with a slow jog, both of us taking it easy, and after a few minutes, I up the pace, aiming for at least an eight-minute mile. Ideally, I’d like my speed to increase along with my endurance, and by pushing myself a little more, I should achieve that.

We come to the waterfall for a second time and stop. Sitting down on the rocks, I take a long drink from my water bottle and Flynn does the same.

Looking around, it’s not hard to see why this is a place that tourists frequent, with its lush tropical flora and rainforest feel. A gentle breeze blows and the mist from the waterfall blankets where we’re sitting. The birds are just beginning to wake up, letting out soft squawks, and I smile at the fact that Flynn and I get to experience this without the crowds.

“How’d you get into surfing?” I ask him, turning to take in his beautiful face, all chiseled jawline and features that look like they belong on the cover of a magazine.

“I grew up on the coast of Australia,” he says playfully. “It’s like a rite of passage. My grandfather surfed, and he taught my dad, and my dad taught me.”

It’s sweet, and definitely not similar to my life, but I like that. I like that he had someone teaching him, someone who took an active interest in his talent.

“My mum surfed too, not much anymore, but when I was a kid, she did. She’d take my brother and me out during school holidays while our dad was at work,” he adds wistfully, and I find myself smiling at his story, loving the simplicity of it.

“And you just happened to be good, huh?”

“Yeah, just a bit of natural talent, I guess. My dad saw that and pushed for me to train, hiring a coach, and I landed my first comp as an amateur when I was thirteen. It all kinda took off from there,” Flynn says casually, and he makes it sound so simple, and for him, it probably was.

He had support, and obviously, his family had the money to foster his talent and encourage him, but not just that, they had the money to hire a coach, and for him to train with the best. He wouldn’t have ended up a world champion if he hadn’t.

There was a time in my life when I was jealous of people like Flynn, feeling like they had everything handed to them, and I was out there struggling just to afford a board. I knew I was good, but no one cared to notice, no one wanted to help the girl who could surf as good as the guys but had no one supporting her. I hated it, but then I realized the only person holding me back was me. I needed to get my name out there, I needed to fight for myself, because no one believed in me the way I did.

“How about you?” he asks, his fingers reaching up to tuck a few strands of loose hair behind my ear. Again, with the simple gesture, but it feels like more. He’s so damn good at it, setting my heart on fire by just being here.

“It’s definitely not a story like yours,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t even remember learning to surf. I taught myself. I mean, I guess the guys I’d be out on the water with taught me, but it was never anything formal and really no one until Mitch took an interest in what I could do.”

I run my tongue along my back teeth, a weird nervousness taking over. I don’t talk about my life before I met Mitch and Nate. It’s nothing to brag about, that’s for sure.

“How old were you?” he now asks, and I don’t know if he’s asking how old I was when I started surfing or how old I was when I met Mitch.

“I guess I was probably around eight. I’d borrow a board from the public storage because I didn’t have my own. Sometimes it would take me a good solid twenty minutes to find a board that wasn’t locked up. Sometimes the boards would be so big that I’d have to drag it through the sand. I’m sure I pissed a lot of people off.” I let out a laugh, thinking back on it.

“You stole people’s boards?” Flynn asks, sounding far more shocked than I expect.

“Hell no. I would borrow them,” I clarify, narrowing my eyes at him, and he chuckles. “I would return them after I was done. I never stole anyone’s boards. I knew better.”

“Your parents wouldn’t buy you one?” Flynn now asks, and I shake my head.

“Parent,” I reply. “My mom was young when she had me. She was nineteen, got pregnant at eighteen. She didn’t really know what she was doing.”

“And your dad?”

He’s getting really personal here. I swallow, wondering if I should tell him to drop it, not really comfortable, but I share anyway.

“He was in the military. That’s really all I know. He knew my mom was pregnant but didn’t really care. It was just my mom, and she…” I trail off, hating my memories of her, wondering what Flynn’s mom is like. Not like mine, that I know for sure.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Alana,” he now says, his hand resting on my thigh, a comforting weight to it.

“She moved to the mainland when I was eighteen, but by then, I was working at The Pipe Dream, and Mitch had let me crash on the couch in the cottage with Nate until I found a place to live.”

“How’d you meet Mitch?” he now asks, realizing he’s an easier topic of conversation despite his death.

“I was one of the kids at the surf school. It’s how I met Nate too. It’s really how all of this got started. Without it, I have no idea where I’d be.”

“I think you’d still be surfing,” Flynn replies with honesty lacing his words. “You have some serious talent, Alana, and I’m glad you met Mitch, so you had someone who saw that.”

I lean my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes. I let the tropical breeze blow over my sweaty skin, cooling me.

“Where’s your mom now?” Flynn asks quietly, a hesitation there.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her since she left, and I really don’t give a shit.” It comes out harsh, but it’s the reality of the situation. She didn’t care when she was here, so why should I give my time or my thoughts to it either?

“I stopped worrying about her years before she left too. Once I met Mitch and Nate, and I realized that family didn’t need to be blood, my life changed. I met Daisy and Sloane, and the guys from the shop, and all of them would do anything for me, just like I would do anything for them.”

“It sounds like you’re right where you should be,” Flynn tells me, and I let out a hard sigh.

He’s right. This is where I’m supposed to be and the only thing that would make it better is if Flynn were in my bed on a permanent basis.

He leans down, pressing his lips to my hair in the softest of kisses. The sun is just beginning to rise, and we need to get moving if we are going to get out of here before it gets busy.

His lips linger there, and I turn into him, my nose burrowing into the side of his neck. I inhale, letting his scent cover me.

“You always smell so fucking good,” I mutter painfully, a groan begging to fall from my lips.

“And there it is,” Flynn says, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I actually thought we were going to get through this run without one of us making a comment.”

“What? It’s a compliment,” I reply sweetly, looking up at him now. “You do, and I didn’t want to wash my sheets because they smelled like you.”

As I admit this, it sounds stalkerish and desperate, and Flynn lets out a laugh.

“Your scent is starting to leave my bed too. Might need to figure out a way to change that.” He leans down, his nose trailing along my neck as he inhales deeply.

“We can’t.”

I can feel the electricity between us firing, my thighs pressing together. There’s something so innately sexual about the forbidden, and it’s making me lose my mind. I want to say fuck it and give in to everything we both want.

Maui Pipe be damned.

But I don’t really mean that.

Or do I?

“I’m so fucking tired of fighting it, Alana,” Flynn hisses, his words raspy and deep and so fucking sexy. He growls, and it vibrates through my body, his teeth dragging over my skin, nipping gently.

I want to give in to all my desires and wants and needs, desperate to have him inside me again. I’m wound so tightly that I feel like I might snap. I need to get the hell home and bust out my vibrator because that’s the only relief I’m going to get.

We. Can’t. Do. This.

“Fuck, Alana,” Flynn groans, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling him to touch me. “Do you know how many times I’ve fucked my fist thinking about you? How many times I’ve dreamed of your tight pussy wrapped around my cock?”

I want my body to belong to him, for him to own it and worship it and mark it. I want it to be dirty and reckless and feral, fucking that leaves our inhibitions aside and explores every fantasy.

“Flynn,” I moan, my hips moving of their own accord as his hand runs up the inside of my thigh. “I want…” I start to say, and that’s when I hear it, the sound of laughter, and my eyes shoot open.

I look at him, my eyes wide, my panties soaked, and I know we need to leave before this goes too far. Getting interrupted is the best thing that could have happened to us, even if I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns.

A group of people appears from over the small hill, and Flynn and I stand, greeting them with a smile before we take off running again.