Page 80 of Catch a Wave

“Yeah. I’m getting used to reporters, I guess. Anytime I get to talk about you is fun.”

He steps in front of me and brushes a lock of wet hair away from my face, smiling down at me with that post-surf, sated look in his eyes.

“You know how much I love you?” The corner of Bodhi’s mouth tips up in a lopsided grin.

“Enough to buy me an açaí bowl at Sunrise Shack?”

“Hmmm.” He pretends to run his hand along his jaw in a contemplative move.

I smack his bicep and look up at him through my lashes.

He runs his hand down my hair. “I’d say my love is big enough to treat for açaí.”

“Such a romantic,” I tease him, turning to jump up into the passenger seat.

Bodhi stops me, catching my elbow in his hand. He pivots me toward him.

“I’m so crazy about you, Mavs. You’re my forever.”

He says that all the time, and it doesn’t get old.

“You’re my favorite disobedient puppy.”

“Whom you love with undying devotion.” He says this while his fingers find the most ticklish spot under my ribs. I fold over laughing.

“Stop! Bodhi! Stop!”

“Say you’re madly in love with me.” He lessens his assault, but not by much.

“Uncle! Uncle! I love you—madly.”

“Get a room, you two!” Someone taunts us from across the parking lot.

“One day, man! One day!” Bodhi shouts back.

I shake my head at him. Bodhi always blurts out all his thoughts. My man has no filter. It’s one of the things that drew me to him after the initial physical attraction. He’s just so guileless and forthright. I love that about him. Fearless: that’s my Bodhi.

“Kiss me, Bodhi.”

“Always this.” He makes a show of rolling his eyes as if I’m the biggest pain in his tush. Meanwhile, his dimples pop and his eyes sparkle with mischief. “Always demanding my kisses. And açaí, and surf trips … Who knew you’d be so high maintenance?”

I poke him just below his armpit—where he’s ticklish. He grabs my wrist and then his eyes turn from playful to serious.

“I love you, Mavs. I’m not really sure there are words to express how much I love you. You’re the perfect woman—and you’re mine.” The note of reverence in his voice floors me.

We’re pretty affectionate—almost obnoxiously so. At first I thought it was the newness of our relationship. Then, when Bodhi moved to Hawaii, I thought it was the fact that we finally were in the same place after so much distance separating us. But he’s been here a year, and we’re still “over the top,” at least according to my brother. My mom says it’s a gift to find a man who loves me like Bodhi does. I’m going with Mom on this one.

I’m about to answer Bodhi—to tell him how much he means to me—but he bends in and kisses me with the same heat and urgency he always does. It’s like we have to keep reminding ourselves how rare this love we share is—and our kisses seem to be the most thorough reminder.

Bodhi pulls away from me and runs the back of his hand down my face while he looks me in the eyes. “We’d better get a move on. It will be time for the interview before we know it. I want to feed you and then I have to stop at the shop for a few hours. Then I’ll meet you and that reporter at the restaurant. What’s her name again?”

“Megan Woodruff. FromSurfermag.”

“I know she’s withSurfer. I just forgot her name.”

“That’s why you have me.” I jump up into the passenger seat.

When Bodhi climbs into the driver’s seat, he says, “That’s why I have you? I was wondering.” Then he looks over and winks at me before turning the key.

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