Laci had been terrified at first by the prospect of going off to live with a man she didn’t remember. Then the reality sank in: she was getting to leave her leech of a mother. And no matter what else happened, that had to be a good thing.
Fortunately, she’d been right. Moving from her mom’s dolled-up condo to her father’s ramshackle shack had constituted serious culture shock, but Duncan had made them feel more welcome in two days than their mom had in their entire lives. Without breaking stride, he’d brought his daughters into his life, and he’d never once complained, even though two little girls had taken up more than their fair share of his four-hundred-square-foot shack.
They’d arrived during the summer, and while Duncan had sat at the lifeguard stand, his daughters played in the surf and got to know the vendors who hawked food, air rafts and surfboards to the locals and tourists.
By the end of that first summer, Laci had learned to surf, and three months later—during their first Christmas/summer break Down Under—she’d competed in her first surfing competition, coming out of nowhere to take second in the junior division.
After that, she knew what she’d wanted to do for the rest of her life, and she’d gone after her goal with single-minded obsessiveness. Her first surfboard had been a present from her father, but after that, she’d eschewed trading product for favors. No way—no freaking way—was she turning into her mom.
She intended to climb to the top of the surf world, win trophies and world championships and get her face on cereal boxes. And she was getting there on her own merits—her own wins. Or, dammit, she wasn’t getting there at all.
“Thinking serious thoughts?” That comment came from JC, now standing over Laci and blocking the sun, so that the backlight through her damp hair made her appear like some sort of Amazon surf goddess.
“Always,” Laci said, pushing up on her elbows and conjuring a smile.
Beside her, Drea rolled over, joining the conversation. “You looked good out there,” she said, and Laci nodded agreement.
“Thanks,” JC said, plunking down on the sand beside them. “Hard to believe the first heat’s in just two weeks. I’m totally digging this relaxation time.”
Laci laughed. “Some relaxation! We’re working our tails off.”
“Okay, you have a point.”
“Should we say it now,” Drea asked. “Just to get it out of the way?”
They looked at each other, then each grinned as they stuck out their hands, putting one on top of the other. “Good luck,” they said in unison. “But I’m gonna kick your ass.” They tossed their hands in the air and fell back, laughing.
Nice to laugh about it, Laci thought. She wondered if the others meant it even half as much as she did.
JC climbed to her feet. “I’m going to go grab a shower and some lunch. You guys?”
“Sure,” Drea said, shaking out her towel and securing it back around her hips. “Laci?”
Laci shook her head, the thought of spending some alone time on the beach too enticing to pass up. “I’m going to hang here for a while, but I might swing by Da Kine later for a snack. You want me to call you?”
“Sure,” Drea said, and although JC nodded, there was a shadow in her eyes.
“What?” Laci demanded.
“It’s probably nothing,” JC said.
“Then spit it out.”
“It’s just that when I was in there last night, I thought I saw someone. I’m not even sure. It’s probably nothing.”
Laci was bolt upright now, her back straight, senses tingling. “Who did you see?”
“Thought I saw,” JC clarified.
Laci crossed her arms and stared down her friend.
“Fine. I thought I saw Taylor Dutton.”
Drea let out a low whistle even as Laci’s insides went cold. “Here? Working the competition? That doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t even work for Xtreme.”
Drea and JC exchanged looks. “Yeah, he does,” JC said. “Has been for a while, actually. But,” she hurried to add, possibly because she saw panic on Laci’s face, “there’s no way I could have seen him. I mean, he doesn’t have any reason to be here,” JC said. “Morgan Castle’s here for Xtreme. I talked to him yesterday.” She waved a hand, as if dismissing the whole conversation. “It was probably someone who looked like Taylor. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No,” Laci said. “It’s okay. Taylor doesn’t mean a thing to me anymore. For that matter, he never meant anything. He was a fling. That’s all.”
They both looked at her as if they didn’t believe her, which made sense considering she was lying through her teeth.
“Go on,” she said. “I’m gonna hang for a while and then go back to the bungalow. And don’t look so stricken. I’m fine. He’s not even really here, right? And I can totally handle bumping into someone who vaguely looks like a guy I dated a while ago. Really,” she added because her friends still seemed dubious.
Despite their obvious hesitations, they finally left, but not before making her promise to call if she needed anything.
She wouldn’t.
Even if Taylor were on the island—and why would he be with Morgan gunning to score big promoter points with his boss?—it wasn’t as if Laci were still pining for the guy. Yes, she’d been blindsided before, but she’d wised up a lot since then. She’d confused pheromones for love and she’d gotten seriously burned as a result, her surfing triumphs tainted with the sour stench of sex traded for prime publicity ops. Sodding scumbag.
She’d left him on the beach in California and she’d never looked back.
Laci was not like her mom. Everything she had, she’d earned. And now here she was at Girls Go Banzai, a competition that she’d only dreamed about, and certainly hadn’t hoped to achieve so soon. And, as Drea had said, XtremeSportNet saw potential in her, when they picked her as the Banzai wild card, and she was going to make sure they also saw a star.
Of course, for that to happen, she had to get up off this beach. And right at this moment, with the sun beating down on her, that seemed like the hardest thing in the world.
With a sigh, she wriggled deeper into the sand and said a silent thank-you that the first heat of the competition was still weeks away. JC was right—even though they had work to do in these upcoming weeks, relaxation was definitely on the agenda. Laci loved Hawaii, and although she intended to practice within an inch of her life, she also wanted to chill. Because in the end, the stereotypes were true: a laid-back, loose surfer would do way better in competition than a surfer wound tight as a spring.
And the news of Taylor’s possible presence on the island had definitely wound her up.
She just needed a few more minutes to let the sun and sand work their magic on her muscles.
Feeling utterly decadent, she arched her foot, then pressed her toes under the top layer of warm sand to the cool, wet mush below. The change in temperature shot through her, and that combined with the warm sun on her belly and breasts sent a sensual trill through her body.
She breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation and enjoying more the fact that she’d gotten here on her own. Taylor Dutton might have been an A-1 ass, but she’d kicked him firmly to the curb. She was here on this island in this competition because she’d earned it. Earned this sand. Earned this chance. And she intended to enjoy it.
“Heaven,” she whispered, her word coming out on a soft breath.
“Looks like it from here,” came the response in