Page 115 of Can't Get Enough

I tug my braids over one shoulder. “I have a video conference thing in about an hour if there’s a corner of this house I can steal?”

“Of course,” Maverick replies. He reaches for my hand in my lap and pulls it up for a kiss. “I hope you don’t have to work all day.”

“Look who’s talking,” I say with a laugh, threading our fingers together and letting them rest on his knee. “You were out of bed hours before I was.”

I shoot Mr. Bell a look that is half embarrassment, half horror, and almost swallow my tongue. It’s pretty obvious I’m spending the week,but I didn’t have to hang all Mav’s business out on the line to dry in front of his father. I may be wild in the sheets, but I would never have a man spend the night in my mama’s house. Not with the “Footprints” poem and the Black Jesus oil painting hanging on the wall in the living room.

“I mean…” My wide eyes meet Maverick’s laughing ones.

“You’re right,” he says, saving me from whatever awkward thing was about to come from my mouth. “I was up early getting things done so we could spend the day together. You down?”

Mr. Bell’s kind, approving smile relaxes my shoulders a bit.

“Okay.” I stand and try to clear my plate, but Maverick grabs his and mine before I can do it. “After this meeting I’m free. What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I already know what he wants to do.” Mr. Bell chuckles and nods to the ocean beyond the kitchen window.

Following the direction of his eyes and noting the gleam in Maverick’s, I shake my head and sigh. “Oh, God, no.”

“Yup.” Maverick swats my ass, his grin as blinding as the morning sun streaking through the windows. “My girl’s learning how to surf.”

CHAPTER 36

MAVERICK

I’ve lived many places, but nothing has ever compared to the ocean for me. Raging tumult one minute and placid the next. Fickle and fathoms deep. It was fascination at first sight.

No matter what chaos the world is in, surfing has always been my own retreat. So much of it is watching and waiting. Watching the water to gauge its mood, and then waiting for the waves to toss and churn and break. I’m itching to hop on my board and strike out to catch one of the huge waves I’ve been seeing all day. Even more appealing, though, is teaching Hendrix to surf.

Though at this point she may not agree.

We’ve spent a long time practicing the pop-up on dry land, and her patience with sand is waning.

“When do we get to the water part?” she whines, pulling her board up and holding it under one arm.

“I had to drag you out here, and now you want to get to the water part?”

“I wanna see what all the hype is about.” She tugs her one-piece down to cover her ass cheek and lightly kicks sand at me. “You’re supposed to be teaching me how to surf. Not how to stand up on the sand.”

“Can’t have one without the other. Come on, then, if you think you’re ready.”

She’s not ready.

The next hour is her trying to “catch a big one,” as she keeps calling it, and capsizing on her board every time. I can barely respond when she screams for me to “rescue” her in about two feet of water I’m laughing so hard. We’re both soaked head to toe and covered in sand when we flop onto the beach towel, winded and really happy. Or at least I am. Judging by the huge smile on her face, she is, too.

“I told you surfing is great.” I nudge her with my elbow.

“I don’t think what I did out there,” she says, tossing a hand toward the ocean, “would be considered surfing yet. I need a better teacher.”

“Nah.” I roll over onto her, caging her with my arms on either side of her head. “Ain’t nobody teaching you but—”

“Oh, shit!” She shoves me aside and takes off toward the water.

By the time I’ve rolled over and stood up, she has already run into the ocean and scooped up a little blond toddler, no more than two years old, who had wandered out a little too far. A woman runs up, her expression panicked.

“Oh, God,” the woman says, voice shaking. “I turned my head for just a second and she was gone. Thank you so much.”

“No problem.” Hendrix hands the little girl over, who is laughing, blissfully unaware she may have taken a year or two off her mother’s life. “I think it scared us more than it scared her.”

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