Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
And yeah… I so had a thing for her.
“Everything’s exactly the same,” she murmurs. “It’s comforting.”
I stay quiet. Let her have the moment.
She leans over, reaches for a framed photo on the bedside table, stares at it and then turns it for me to see. It’s just the two of us, taken about four years ago. I was competing in a rally race in the United States, and she’d flown over with my parents to cheer me on. I won that race, and in the shot, she’s leaning against me in a sundress, laughing at something. God, we look carefree.
I take the picture from her and study it.
“We always looked good together,” I say with a lopsided grin. But truly, she’s the one who makes that picture shine. I take in her long red hair draped over shoulders dotted with freckles that multiplied under the summer sun. She used to hate them, bemoaned them all the time. But now she’s more poised and confident, and her makeup is always light so that they’re celebrated and not hidden.
“Ever wonder where we’d be right now if things had been different?”
I blink at her, then set the photo back on the table. “Different?”
She nods. “Us. I mean… if we had tried to make it work after that one night together. Would we have made it or maybe crashed and burned because of the stress?”
I sit down beside her, elbows resting on my knees. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it though. Had all kinds of what-ifs.”
“Me too.” She exhales. “Even as I was accepting Lance’s ring, I was wondering what if. God, that makes me sound so fickle.”
I chuckle. “You’re the least fickle person I know, and I think when you accepted Lance’s proposal, it was the right thing for you at the time.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I used to think you just didn’t want me.”
“I wanted you so much it scared the hell out of me,” I admit. “But I was afraid if I let myself fall for you, I’d mess it up. I’d get distracted. Or worse—I’d lose you to the lifestyle before I could ever hold on to you properly.”
She looks at me, eyes shining with humor. “I mean… if you think about it… that’s about as mature a decision as you’ll ever make in your life.”
I smile. “I wasn’t as wise then as I am now, but I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be at the exact right time.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Well, good thing I’m wise enough for both of us.”
I chuckle, then lean in to kiss her cheek. “Damn right, you are.”
“I have an idea,” she says, a gleam in her eye that makes my heart pound. If she wants to get naked and christen this bed in a way I used to dream about, I’m down for it. “Let’s go surfing.”
Not nearly as enticing as sex, but a surge of excitement courses through me. If I couldn’t be a professional race car driver, I’d have taken a shot at surfing as a career, and it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been out. “I’ll have to run home and get my suit and board.”
“You’ve got ten minutes,” she says, shooting off the bed. “I’m thinking we only need spring suits.”
That’s a good call. It’s going to be in the mid-twenties Celsius today and the water temps are probably still mild enough to not warrant a full suit.
“I’ll be back in ten,” I say as she dives into her closet, searching for her wetsuit, but she’s not even paying attention to me.
She’s in surf mode.
♦
The water is colder than I remember. Or maybe I’m just not used to it anymore. I wish I’d gone with my full suit but seeing Lara dive in with just her spring suit, her arms and legs bare and letting out a delightful shriek, I suck it up and don’t complain.
It’s been a couple years since I surfed, but the rhythm comes back fast—paddle, pop up, glide. Lara’s already out there, bobbing on her board, her long braid wet and draped over one shoulder.
“This was a good idea,” she says, splashing me with a grin.
“You have them occasionally.”
We float for a moment, letting the swells lift and drop us gently.
“Where are you headed when you leave here?” she asks.
We haven’t made any specific plans other than for me to take a few days off, mainly to be with her. I did invite Carlos however and he’s coming tomorrow.
“Gotta get back to Monaco to deal with some sponsor stuff. But I’m yours till then.”
“We’ll make the most of it,” she assures me and then catches sight of an incoming wave that she intends to catch. I watch her ride it in, the loss of her by my side palpable. I bypass my own wave that comes through and wait for her to paddle back out to me.