Slammed (18 page)

She straightened and laid her hands on her hot cheeks. She didn’t know Dylan all that well, so his demeanor during dinner could be just the way he was. She locked her door then turned to go down the hall to her bedroom. Only another couple of weeks of this and he’d be off to the next event. Where was the next event?

She found herself detouring back into her living room and sitting in front of her computer, looking up the ASP World Tour schedule. Huh. The next event was in Brazil, and wow, it started not long after this one. Then Portugal, then oh wow, back to California, Santa Cruz.

That was his life, traveling the world to exotic locations. And her life was here. And there wasn’t any point in even thinking about anything more than that. Dylan’s friends wanted him to find a woman and settle down, but how the hell was he supposed to do that when he barely even had a real home?

She looked again at the schedule, at the intervals between some of the events. What the hell did he do during those times? Besides party wildly and get himself into the news. She shook her head as she put her computer to sleep then closed the lid.

Alone in her bed, she found herself reliving those nights with Dylan in Tahiti. They’d been back a while now, and sometimes it seemed like a dream, distant and nebulous. Other times it seemed like he should be there with her, in her bed, wrapping his body around her and making her feel so good.

She missed him.

That was stupid.

Okay, he was starting to feel some serious pressure and he did not like it.

His agent was booking him for interviews like crazy, with magazine and newspaper reporters, bloggers and television people. He was ramping up his time in the water, working out at the gym, doing yoga. He was spending time with Elroy, working on his boards. Brooke had set up stuff for him to do with these damn charities and store appearances and a fucking photo shoot. And now he had to organize a bachelor party. Christ.

She didn’t need to worry about him getting into trouble. He didn’t have
time
to get into trouble. He barely had time to take a leak.

It started Monday morning when they met with the people from Oceans Alive.

“Our current big undertaking is a five million dollar project designed to divert urban runoff to an onsite treatment facility that will clean the water before discharging it into the ocean at Silverado Beach,” Director Brian Humbert said. “This beach has had a lot of complaints about water quality and has consistently been rated F. There’s a large residential community upstream that has resulted in bacteria loading. But it’s a popular family beach, so we want to improve the quality for visitors.”

“How does the water get treated?” Dylan asked.

“With ultraviolet technology. The plant will be able to treat over a million gallons of polluted runoff water a day.”

“That sounds amazing,” he said. “I’ve been reading about the problem. I see the problems first hand obviously, but I’ve only recently come to realize the magnitude of it. The impact on the climate. Survival of our oceans is vital. Everything really requires healthy oceans.”

“Absolutely. Urban runoff is only one part of the problem of course, but it’s something we can take positive steps to help.”

“I’d never thought about it before,” Dylan admitted. “I didn’t realize that most sources of marine pollution are land-based.”

“That’s right. Direct discharge of waste into the oceans is one problem. Also runoff due to rain.”

They talked about Dylan’s role in helping to raise money for the project. “This ties in really nicely with work I’m doing with Daytrippers,” he told them. “I can talk to the kids about ways to keep the oceans healthy. It’s always good to make younger generations aware of the problems, right? And if they’re into surfing and they like to have fun in the ocean, taking responsibility for it goes hand in hand with that.”

He caught Brooke’s eye and gave her a small smile.

After that meeting, he needed to get to the beach but found himself lingering outside the office of Oceans Alive, standing there on the sidewalk in the bright morning sun, so he could talk to her. Look at her. He wished he could touch her.

“You did great in there,” she said. “You must have been studying all that info I gave you.”

“Some. It’s interesting. I really do love the ocean. I kind of feel guilty for not taking more responsibility for it sooner.”

“You did come across as very sincere.”

“I
was
sincere.” He rubbed his face. “I’m just…this is a crazy week.”

“Is it too much?” Her eyebrows slanted down.

He sighed. “No. I just need to manage my time. Holden’s got a lot of stuff lined up for me too, but most of all I need to make sure I’m focused on the competition. First I have to get things set up for the bachelor party and then get through the damn wedding. Next week it has to be all about the competition.”

She nodded, her eyes searching his. “Okay. I don’t want this to interfere with your training, Dylan. I know how important that is to you. And obviously, as one of your sponsors, we want you to win. It benefits us too. It benefits everyone if you do.”

Business. Oh yeah, she was all about business. He nodded. “Okay. I better get going.”

He did get through the week, satisfied with the training he’d been able to do. The yoga was not only good for increasing his flexibility, but also for stress relief. Much as people thought he was laid back, he’d never been good at relaxing. At first yoga had driven him crazy, but he’d worked at the meditative part of it, worked at slowing himself down, centering himself. The mental part of competition was hugely important too, and it was good to use those times for some visualizing, imagining himself riding the hugest waves, latching onto those waves, painting the canvas of the wave with his moves, seeing himself do that. He incorporated that into his training in the water too, while sitting on his board on the ocean, letting the swells lift and lower him, only the water and the sky and the wind around him. The ocean had always amazed him, the incredible power and beauty of it. The ocean had nearly killed him but had also given him the most incredible joy of his life. Had given him his whole life, really, since surfing was everything to him. He loved and feared it. He respected it.

He’d spent time with his coach, Brett, who’d given him some ideas of things to try, things to work on, both in the water and out.

The “bachelor party” took place on Saturday. He and Matt and a bunch of other guys spent the afternoon kayaking to a small beach that could only be accessed by boat, climbing the rock cliffs there, eating lunch that the adventure company brought while sitting in the sun on a small sandy beach dotted with rocks. They worked their muscles hard, had a lot of laughs. Dylan knew two of the guys from high school and it was cool catching up with them. They were all impressed with him and his surfing career, but shiz, Boone was a doctor for chrissakes, and Nick ran the San Amaro Golf and Country Club. The other guys were friends and neighbors of Matt’s who he didn’t know. Funnily enough, Carlos and Mike, the two guys who ran the adventure company, lived next door to Matt, and when Dylan had told him what he was doing and asked who he wanted to invite, they were both on the list. Carlos and Mike had put together a great day for them when Dylan had contacted them and explained about the bachelor party. At the end of the day, Dylan had arranged reservations at a local steakhouse and they all gathered for steaks, beers, more joking and talking about the day.

He’d pulled off a successful bachelor party that hadn’t involved naked women or any police involvement whatsoever. A few months ago he would have sneered at something so tame, but now, he was kind of proud of himself.

And found himself wanting to tell Brooke all about it.

As the party broke up around eleven o’clock Saturday night, he debated driving over to her place. Would she let him in if he dropped by out of the blue like that?

Nah. Stupid idea. And he’d see her tomorrow at the wedding. That was one good thing.

The wedding was still something that filled him with dread. Not sure why. He’d already faced Corey and Matt a couple of times. He’d had Brooke with him to ensure they didn’t feel sorry for him. She’d be there with him tomorrow at the wedding. It would be fine.

Chapter Fourteen

Brooke gave one last look in the mirror as the buzzer at her door sounded. She was ready.

It wasn’t a real date. She had to keep reminding herself, even as she’d carefully shaved her legs, styled her hair, applied makeup and spread mango and pineapple scented body lotion over her skin. She’d become addicted to the tropical scent after leaving Tahiti, and every time she used it she thought of Dylan. That scent and him would be forever imprinted on her olfactory memory.

She’d talked herself out of buying a new dress for the occasion for that same reason
–
it wasn’t a real date. Dylan had never seen the dress she’d chosen, nor had other guests, although it was possible there were people she knew among the invited guests.

Because Dylan was the best man, he was picking her up a little early. She opened the door to see him standing there in a suit and tie, and she lost her breath.

“Hi,” she said. Her gaze tracked down from his smoothly shaven face, over the pale gray collar of his dress shirt, the silky blue-and-silver tie that matched his eyes, over the way the dark suit fit his broad shoulders and tapered down his athletic body to his waist and hips. “You look nice.”

“Nice,” he snorted. “Again.”

She grinned. “You do clean up pretty well for a surfer dude.”

He smiled. “Thanks. You, on the other hand…” He moved inside her apartment and, holding one of her hands, twirled her around. “Look fucking amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Great dress.” His gaze left heat in its trail as he looked her up and down. “Holy crap, Brooke.”

The heat spread to her cheeks as he studied her bare legs and high-heeled shoes. “It’s okay for a wedding?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

The pinky-peach dress was strapless and hugged her body from armpits to mid-thigh. It was saved from being too plain by a pin on the left side of her waist made up of a large flower centered with pearls and rhinestones. On her feet she wore nude-colored high-heeled pumps.

“Okay, good. Well, I’m ready.” She picked up a pashmina in a darker peach shade and her little beaded clutch purse.

She caught Dylan eyeing her backside as she turned back and flushed again. Damn. She liked it that he liked how she looked. But
this wasn’t a real date
.

“We’re a little early,” Dylan said as he helped her into his car. The short skirt made that maneuver a little tricky, but she carefully kept her knees together and swung her legs in. “I was already at the restaurant helping with some last minute things.”

“How did it go yesterday?”

“Great!” He told her about their expedition, kayaking and rock climbing, sounding so enthused she couldn’t help but smile.

“Sounds like you enjoyed it.”

“I did. It wasn’t your typical bachelor party but I had a lot of fun. Of course I like stuff like that, but I think everyone else had fun too.”

“And today? You’ve been helping Matt?”

“And Corey. We went and did some decorating at the restaurant. They’re keeping it pretty simple, but we got things set up on the patio for the ceremony. They had some flowers delivered that had to be arranged, and we set up chairs. Then Corey went home to change and get ready with Matt’s sister Neve, and Matt stayed a while longer to supervise the food prep and get the bar all ready. I offered him my hotel room for him to get dressed so Corey had the house to herself. We went back and got changed. Matt’ll meet us at the restaurant. You’ll just be one of the first guests to arrive.”

“No problem.”

The restaurant was empty when they walked into it, closed to the public for the day, but delicious smells wafted from the kitchen. Dylan led the way onto the patio where Matt stood talking to a couple of his staff. Matt too wore a suit, dark like Dylan’s, his shirt snowy white. They hadn’t gone as formal as tuxedoes for the wedding.

“Hi Brooke,” Matt said with his easy smile. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too.”

“I’ll get you a glass of wine,” Dylan said. “Since there’s a little time until the wedding starts.”

She found a seat and let Matt and Dylan check out the sound system they’d rigged up for music for the ceremony and dancing later. Sipping her wine, she looked around the patio. Vines grew across a pergola above them, the evening sky midnight blue beyond that. Baskets of colorful flowers swayed gently in the soft breeze. Chairs had been arranged in rows with a center aisle, and at the front were two large arrangements of flowers, bright gerbera daisies and delicate cascading ivy, and more hanging baskets. Lamps on the walls and fence cast a soft glow, and large pillar candles flickered beneath glass shades at the front. She let out a sigh of pleasure. Lovely.

With the music playing softly, guests began to arrive and take their seats. She waved to a couple of people she knew. San Amaro wasn’t that big. How much talk was this going to cause, that she was there with Dylan Schell?

She wasn’t worried about her boss, despite her comment to Dylan about that last weekend. She’d just tell Barrett she was doing her job, keeping Dylan out of trouble. And really, there was no need to worry what anyone else said about it. He’d be gone in a couple of weeks and her only contact with him would be business as they continued their sponsorship arrangement. Hopefully they continued with it. Dylan had been on the bubble a few weeks ago, but he’d definitely made an effort to clean up his act.

She just hoped he kept it up.

She took another sip of wine, uncrossed her legs, and crossed them the other way. She watched Dylan up front laughing with Matt about something. He didn’t seem to be having too hard a time behaving himself. He was dedicated and focused when it came to his sport. She knew his schedule, she’d been to the beach to watch him in the water, she knew how much time he spent with his coach, with his shaper, and working out. Despite the laid back attitude, he was dead serious about surfing. And about winning.