“I wanna kiss you so bad, but I don’t want your brothers to kick my ass.” He drops a hidden and lingering kiss against my neck.
As much as I want to laugh, the tiny brush of his lips has robbed me of the ability to speak and infused me with pure need. Dammit, if this is how cranked up we are just from being separated for twelve hours, what will we be like at the end of weekend when we finally get back to Vegas?
“Mr. M-m-ason?” Leah tugs on his shirt, and he releases me quickly as if being caught hugging by a six-year-old is a felony. “Are you g-gonna teach us h-h-ow to surf?”
He squats down to her eye level and my heart melts. It’s now I notice his hair is a little damp and his strong jaw is covered in stubble. With his hand braced on the truck tire, his bare arms, which are exposed by his sleeveless shirt, flex in the sun.
“Would you like to learn how to surf?” His voice has taken on a softness that I don’t even know if he’s realized, but Leah responds immediately by grabbing his hand.
“Yeah, I wa-a-ant to be like Be-th-th-thany Hamilton when I grow up.” She tugs him to the back of the truck, and I lock up the van then follow.
“Except maybe avoid the shark thing, yeah?” Josiah says, his tanned twelve-year-old-boy arms crossed at his chest.
“Oh, yeah.” Leah blushes. “No shark.”
Mason reaches into the back of the truck and pulls out a long surfboard that looks like it’s made out of foam. “I brought this for whoever wants to learn. The waves here are pretty mellow. Good for first-timers.”
Isaac points to the other board in the back. “What’s that one for?”
Mason props the long board against the tailgate and grabs the short, stealthy looking one. It’s white with blue-and-green flames. “This one’s mine. It’s better for doing airs, trick riding.”
Zoe peeks up from under the brim of her wide sun hat. Dark eyes peer up in wonder. “Can you show us some tricks, Mr. Mason?”
His deep blue eyes find mine. “Tricks? I’d love to.”
My cheeks get hot and I tug at my cover up.
“You guys think I can get your big sister to surf with me today?”
They all respond in some form of “good luck with that.”
He stares at me. “Well, what do you think? You up for a little surfing, baby?”
I nod. Yes. Of course. With him, I’d do just about anything.
Mason
Cold water. Lots and lots of cold water.
That’s the only way I’m going to get through a day of being around Trix in her bikini without embarrassing myself. Sitting on the sand, I thought the distance would help. It doesn’t.
My gaze stays locked on her at the water’s edge; she’s holding Zoe’s and Leah’s hands, jumping little waves and laughing so hard it drops her head back. The older kids are a little deeper in the water, doing the same. Trix splashes Leah, and the little girl runs away squealing before coming back to crash into her big sister’s arms. Trix’s smooth bronze skin warms beneath the sun, and the swells, dips, and gentle flares of her curves call to be touched. Kissed.
Kids! Kids . . . focus on the kids.
I blink away from my woman in her bright green string bikini and focus on Isaac. He’s tossing a football from hand to hand, staring out at the breaking waves.
“Isaac, man.”
He turns toward me, his gaze not unfriendly, but I can see he’s protective of his older sister and he won’t be won over easily.
“You wanna throw?” I nod to his football.
He assesses me for a second longer then shrugs. “Sure.”
I hop up from the big sheet that Trix laid out for everyone right before she slathered them in sunblock and took the younger kids to put their feet in the water. She asked me to come with her, but the vision of her in that tiny bikini had me benched.
Even thinking about it now—football. Focus on football.
I jog out to give the kid a decent distance, but not too far that he can’t get the ball to me. I lift my hands, signaling I’m ready. He tilts his head then shakes it a few times before taking two steps back. He cocks his arm then fires the ball. It spins and arcs high, higher, and sails over my head to land a good fifteen yards behind me.
“Holy shit.” I stare at him, unbelieving, only to get another shrug. “Sixteen years old? Damn.” I jog to get the ball.
After scooping up the football, I slap it between two hands and torpedo the thing back to him. He catches it easily then throws it back.
Seems like I may’ve underestimated the kid. We play like this until we’re both sweaty and my right arm is burning like a motherfucker. Trix and the kids have been working on a sandcastle, and other than the few times I’ve caught her watching and stolen a smile, I haven’t spent any time with her.
I flag Isaac and we jog to meet in the middle. He’s breathing heavy, thankfully just as exhausted. “Damn, you’ve got some serious talent.”
His eyebrows pop up behind his shades. “Yeah?”
“Hell yeah! You kidding? I’ve never seen a kid your age throw like that.” I hold out my fist and he bumps it.