“Santa Cruz probation office,” a receptionist answered.
* * * *
His all-terrain tires hummed against the pavement as Ray navigated the beach road on autopilot, his brain playing catch-up. The mad tattoo in his chest subsided as he replayed the last few minutes. She was home.
Lost in eyes the shade of his favorite scotch, he’d used all his strength to turn and leave. Her loose ringlets of light chestnut felt like silk. He’d fallen in love with her years ago. She never had a clue, but with her talent for surfing, she was bound for bigger things than him.
He wound the Hummer into Station Twenty-One’s lot at the south end of the beach, a newer facility than his home station. He’d worked a few swing shifts with each of their rotating crews. Beyond the high-adrenaline nature of the job, the brotherhood and camaraderie filled a void in his life. Ray swung through the kitchen door where the crew had gathered for lunch.
“That’s quite a grin you’re sporting,” the captain said. “You rarely see a happy expression on anyone coming in on his day off.”
“Must’ve got laid,” another firefighter teased. “Looks like he just showered.”
He let the banter slide and eased onto an empty chair. He tossed some bills on the table for the grocery fund. They’d be feeding him dinner too.
“So?” The captain raised a bushy brow.
“Surfing. The sets were perfect.” He smiled. A sub sandwich slid in front of him.
Seeing Jo after five years was better than sex. Unless the sex happened to be with her. But that would be making love. Something he’d only imagined―a million times.
* * * *
Eager to be a regular citizen again, Jo ended the call.
She tossed her bags from the truck and hauled them upstairs. Her bedroom remained untouched right down to the bulletin board strewn with mementos. A snapshot of her father surfcasting, taken days before his untimely death, squeezed her heart.
Days away from leaving for college in California, she’d had to push her grief aside. Now, the empty house echoed the brutal truth.
After stowing her gear, she changed into a bikini and surf shirt. She grabbed a brew from the fridge and stepped out onto deck.
A cloudless sky kissed a blue-green sea as waves rolled onto shore in a hypnotizing rhythm. Below, the Atlantic called her to its warm embrace. Tears stung her eyes. She’d missed home more than she’d ever allowed herself to admit. She sat down her beer and headed down stairs.
After grabbing her surfboard, she charged up tall dunes through wild sea oats and time slowed. She dashed through the breakwater, paddled out and straddled her board. After doing her best to honor her father’s memory by earning a degree and ranking in the surfing world—she trusted an asshole.
Would her dad still be proud of her? Would Ray?
By trying to please everyone, she’d lost sight of what she wanted. The sight of Ray left her with a hollow ache for a man she’d never know beyond friendship. He’d never seen her as anything but a friend and Bobby’s sister. She didn’t expect that to change. Plus, after being burned in California, she didn’t trust anyone with her heart.
Chapter 2
Monday morning, after dropping her truck off for a tune up, Jo rode shotgun in Bobby’s police cruiser. For a white shirted sergeant he looked young and in shape. No doughnut runs for him. Like Ray, he’d matured during her absence.
“I’m sorry you had to spend the weekend alone, sis.” Handling the wheel of the Crown Vic like the boss cop he was, he turned into the town’s municipal complex.
Octagon buildings stained in muddy brown looked outdated. Most establishments had changed to pastel colors. Such a stupid detail to notice when serious issues waited behind those doors. She bit her bottom lip then caught her nervous tic. “It’s okay. I had time to chill.”
He parked and cut the engine. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
Her bother had never left the sandbar known as OBX. With their father’s connections, he’d taken the fast track up through the county police department.
“No need to embarrass you more than I have already.”
He passed her a loyal gaze with big, brown eyes. “I’ll always be here for you, Jo.”
Inside a small office, she waited. The probationary officer on the phone sounded like Big Dawg. His harsh language might have been for her, but he couldn’t know how scared straight she’d become. She’d never thought one’s life could tank into the abyss as fast as hers―less time than drowning of which she’d come close.
“First offense and they busted you with a felony. Enough to distribute?” He glanced at his computer screen.
Constant inquisitions over the last months left her patience as clipped as her short fingernails. “Yep.”
Big Dawg eyed her a moment and kicked back in his chair. “Let me guess. Small town girl heads to Cali for big surfing. Meets Hollywood boyfriend while competing. He stuffs your bags with drugs or whatever and leaves you to take his rap?”
Jo nodded. So, this guy had been around the block. Mr. Hollywood had been Vic, a teammate turned lover. A rich boy from a powerful family in Florida not California. “It was Ecstasy.”
“He made you a blind mule.” He frowned.
Dumb ass. Blind mule. Not a hell of a lot of difference. “After DEA figured out I didn’t know anything, they wanted Hollywood’s suppliers. They thought he’d flip if they incarcerated me, but he didn’t give a shit about me. Obviously. Only he didn’t know I had a list of his cell contacts.”
Surfer gossip pimped him as womanizer, not a drug dealer. Her slip in judgment cost her a night behind bars, her scholarship, and her place on the surf team. Not one of her teammates clued her in to Vic’s dealing, yet they all had stories to share when her lawyer probed. Friends like those she didn’t need.
“Well, this should do it.” He handed her a clipboard full of papers. “Sign on the highlighted lines and you’ll be on the road to being a regular citizen again.”
The probation had been a formality to keep track of her. With Vic behind bars, her felony would be expunged. She exited the office a free woman and hopped in Bobby’s cruiser. “Thanks for pulling your professional strings.”
He pulled onto the beach road, bound for Ocean Rescue. “Damn, Jo, the captain knows you. You worked as a lifeguard for him every summer until you left for college. All the fire and police brass figured you were set-up.”
“I know, but I don’t want Dad’s name or yours being dragged through the mud because of my stupidity.”
“It’ll be okay, sis.” He pulled into the parking lot and kissed her cheek. “I’ll hit the DMV later today and transfer the Broncosaurus into your name.”
She smiled at the nickname he’d given the truck as a kid. Now, the vehicle held so many memories of their dad, they couldn’t bear to part with it.
“How about a vanity plate?” A smart-ass cop grin followed. “CA SURFR.”
She glowered over her shades and slammed the car door.
“Happy four wheeling, and watch for the tourons. They don’t respect Big Blue or the tow.” He winked.
She waved, laughing at his lingo for moronic tourists and the ocean’s undertow.
Teamed