Tidal (10 page)

I rolled my eyes, ready to let him have

it, but then another text came in. This one

was from a familiar, old contact whose

photo popped up when I clicked on the

message. Strawberry blonde hair, blue

eyes, a giant grin, and a shot glass lifted

up high. I still remembered bits and pieces

of the night I took this picture of Jessica.

Speak of the boozy devil.

9:18 a.m.
: Where are you staying???

I was on vacation in Ibiza. I want to see

you, bitch!!!

I began typing a response to her,

barely listening when Miller said, “Hey,

Willow . . . I was wondering if we could

talk about days off.”

“The weekend,” I blurted, and I heard

him shuffle around, probably to turn his

head in my direction. “The weekend

because I don’t need to go out. Seriously,

if I ask to go out, stop me.”

Because my text to Jessica read,
I

wish we could hang out but I’m in

Hawaii for a part! Sorry.

“What? With physical force?” Miller

asked, snorting.

“I’m weak,” I said, adjusting my

ringer to silent. That way she couldn’t tell

me about what she’d done, and who she

partied with, in Ibiza. That way I wouldn’t

get jealous. That way I wouldn’t wish I’d

been with her, getting so fucked up the

universe failed to exist for me.

“I don’t want to go back to rehab or

jail or any of that. I’m not going to go

back,” I whispered.

There should be other reasons why

you don’t want to get screwed up
, my

conscience muttered to me.

I paid attention to the winding road

ahead.

“Nobody wants you to either,” Miller

said quietly. But I closed my eyes and saw

the flashing lights and the headlines

behind my eyelids. He was wrong, so I

didn’t respond.

When he parked the car on Cooper’s

curb, I hesitated before getting out. I

pulled my hand away from the door handle

and gazed back into Miller’s dark brown

eyes. “What are you going to do when

you’re off?” I asked.

He looked surprised. “Something part-

time . . . to help with the expenses when I

move.” Yesterday, during our all-day tour

of Honolulu, he’d told me about his

girlfriend. The assignment as my

bodyguard would be his last before he

moved to live with her on the East Coast.

My gaze slipped to the front of

Cooper’s stucco house, and then back to

Miller’s face. “Another security job?”

Miller opened his mouth to answer

me, but then seemed to think better of it.

His face wrinkled into a frown and he

flicked the tip of his tongue over the tiny

gap in his front teeth. “Willow, are you

stalling?”

Yes. And I wasn’t about to admit

aloud—or even to myself—the reason

why. Letting my shoulders sag, I pinned on

a smile that was probably more creepy

and robotic than bright. “I’ll text you when

Surfer Boy and me are done.”

A second after I stepped inside the

empty shop area a couple minutes later,

Eric padded in through the doors behind

the surfboard counter. He had a half-eaten

energy bar in one hand and a giant bottle

of water in the other. “What if I said

you’re stuck with me today?” he asked,

hitching an eyebrow.

I pretended to be interested in a t-shirt

for sale, though I could still easily see him

out the corner of my eye. “What exactly

are you going to teach me? And by the

way, I met your girlfriend.”

He took a long gulp of water and then

shrugged his shoulders. “Paige knows my

flirting is harmless.” When I rolled my

eyes, he added, “What can I say, I’m star-

struck. What would you do if Brad Pitt

walked into your house?”

I scrunched my face. “Not shit because

he’s two years older than my dad.” Then a

thought hit me, and I shifted an eyebrow

up. “You’re not much of a bum if you’re

up this early each morning.”

“It’s to see your beautiful, famous

face. But really, not even I sleep past

9:30. I’ve got to polish those”—he

pointed to three surfboards resting against

the wall on the far side of the room—“and

go to the grocer. I’m kind of your

boyfriend’s bitch.”

“There is nothing going on between

me and Cooper,” I said through gritted

teeth. Then, taking a long, calming breath,

I walked over to the counter, leaned my

elbows on the smooth boards, and asked

“Where is Cooper anyway?”

Eric scratched the back of his head

and yawned. “He’s a glutton for

punishment. He’s out on the beach because

he swears it de-stresses him.” He bent

down close to me as if to share a secret.

“And believe me, you stress the hell out of

him.”

“Thanks for the heads up. Good luck

with your . . . bitch duties.”

He sighed. “It’s not an easy job, but

somebody’s got to.”

Shaking my head, I left Eric standing

there grinning like an idiot. I went out to

Cooper’s backyard, the way we’d gone

out the day before. He was wadding

toward the shore, his golden hair wet and

clinging to his forehead, his board tucked

between his arm and body, his expression

relaxed.

The moment he saw me, though, that

look immediately changed to a cocky half-

smile, then surprise when his eyes

dragged over the black halter top of my

swimsuit. He gave me a little wave. I

pressed my fist to my mouth to hide my

smile and steadied myself against the

outside of the deck for a moment. Then, I

slowly sauntered down the beach toward

him.

He met me halfway.

“Trying to get out of work by looking

like that?” he asked.

“Oh, please. It’ll take a lot more than a

two-piece to convince you to go easy on

me.”

“Mmmm, good point, Wills. I will

never, ever go easy on you.”

My body heat jumped, but I radiated

perfect confidence as I stepped out of my

yellow shorts and shoes. I tossed them in a

pile a few feet from my board, which he

must have brought out with him earlier.

“How will you torture my ass today,

Boss?” I asked.

The corner of his mouth tugged up.

“Didn’t take you for that kind of actress,

Wills.”

My torture turned out to be the same as

yesterday, but I was determined to show

him I could handle his training. I spent the

next hour and a half working on my form

and asking him questions about his history

as we worked.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I was six so sixteen—almost

seventeen—years,” he responded. He

stood in front of me, tilted his head to the

side, and then motioned for me to move

my left foot back a little. I slid it back on

the smooth surface of my purple and white

board until he held up his hands for me to

stop.

“How many competitions have you

won?”

He pretended to think and then he

asked, “How many movies have you

starred in?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Too many to

count.”

“Well there you have it.” He walked

in a circle, examining me, and let out an

annoyed sigh before coming up behind me.

Placing his left hand on my hip, he touched

the inside of my right thigh, moving it

forward. My mouth flooded with moisture

as I glimpsed down at his fingertips

gliding across my bare skin. “There,

perfect. Now, bend your knees.” I didn’t

miss the hitch in his voice, or the way his

touch on my skin felt too gentle, too

lingering, for someone tasked with

teaching me.

I thought of the way his hands and

mouth had felt on mine that night in my

living room, and I traced the tip of my

tongue over my lips, dampening them,

before I cleared my throat. “So why’d you

move from Australia?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose,

which was slightly chafed from spending

so much time in the sun. “Show me

everything you learned, starting with

getting up off your board.”

This was the first question of mine

he’d ignored, so naturally, I wanted him to

answer it. “If you tell me about Australia.”

“Why? Planning a visit?”

I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe.”

“Just . . .” He dragged his hands

through his hair, a look of frustration

suddenly clouding his features. “Go

through the fucking basics, Wills.” The

last few words were clipped and every

muscle in my body went tense.

This was a different side of Cooper—

a vulnerable side—and to my

mortification, I realized I was kind of

turned on by it. Maybe I was more

masochistic and screwed up than I

originally believed myself to be, but if this

is what he felt when he tried to fluster me,

no wonder he did it.

Keeping my eyes locked with his, I

showed him everything he’d taught me

over the last couple days. I lay down on

my stomach, keeping my toes at the edge

of the board, and then popped up,

centering my feet expertly in the middle of

the board.

Tilting my face up at him, I smiled

despite the painful burn in my arms and

ass. “Now, why’d you leave Australia?” I

demanded. I stepped off the board and

crossed my arms over my chest, shaking

the soreness out of my legs.

“My parents divorced when I was

twelve,” he said with a little shrug. “My

mum was from America so . . .”

“You moved here,” I completed and

he nodded. “I bet she knows how many

competitions you’ve won,” I added. My

mom might not pick me up from rehab, but

she could easily tell you my first movie,

the last, and every role in between.

But when Cooper looked up, and I got

a good look at his face, I felt a lurch in my

chest that had nothing to do with attraction

or my own personal shame. His

expression was blank and I already knew

what he was going to say before the first

word was spoken.

“She died when I was seventeen,

Wills.”

“Oh,” I whispered. I lowered my gaze

to the sand, digging my foot into it. I’d

spent so much time being around other

people— being other people—and I still

didn’t know what to say when facing

someone’s loss. “Cooper . . . I’m so

sorry.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, but I shook

my head. A moment later, we were toe to

toe, with his palms pressed gently to

either side of my face as he forced me to

meet his gaze. When he looked at me like

that, I forgot that there were other people

on this damn beach with us. And when he

touched me, I almost forgot that I didn’t

plan to get involved—emotionally or

physically—with this guy.

“I’m not angry at you for mentioning

my mum. It was an innocent question—no

harm, you know,” he said.

My shoulders deflated. “I’m really—”

“Drop it,” he said, this time his voice

hard. I flinched but said nothing.

Our lesson ended a few minutes later.

Paige met us out on the deck again, as I

was putting my clothes back on, and this

time when she asked me to eat with her—

correction: told me I was going to—I

accepted. She clapped her hands happily.

“I’ve got to give a lesson in half an

hour but we’ve got a little time. Holy

crap, I’m going to eat lunch with a

celebrity,” she said. Cooper wiggled his

fingers in mock enthusiasm and she rolled

her eyes at him. “If you want to fire this

dumbass and hire me, I could use the cash.

My shitty Grand Caravan is dying!”

I didn’t know anything about this

woman other than the fact she was a

surfer, dated a horn-dog and that her

parents owned the place I was staying in,

but for the first time in what seemed like

years, I felt a pull toward another female

that had nothing to do with getting fucked

up or blowing money. I cleared my throat.

“I should call my bodyguard and let him

know.”

She opened the door for me, ushering

me inside, and then lifted her eyebrow to

Cooper. “Are you coming?”

He shook his head. “No, you guys go

ahead . . . I’m going to go back out for a

few minutes. I’ll be back to put up your

board and take you home in a little,” he

said. When he saw me hesitate, he gave

me a strained smile. “Don’t worry, she

won’t bite.”

“Not too hard,” Paige added, coming

in behind me. I walked forward, dragging

the soles of my rubber flip flops across

the tile floor. There was a part of me that

wanted to turn back around and cast

another glance at Cooper, to see if what

we’d talked about was still bothering him,

but he was probably already in the sea.