Page 175 of Better When Shared
“You’re right. Don’t want to push it too hard and risk an injury. Let’s head in.” I clapped him on the shoulder, letting my hand linger a moment too long. “You’re gonna be sore as hell tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it.”
As we trudged up the beach toward the parking lot, boards under our arms, I stole glances at him from the corner of my eye. Water dripped from his hair down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his wetsuit, and I fought the urge to trace its path with my tongue, all the way down to the thickly muscled globes of his ass.
This was going to be a long week.
We crested the dune that separated the beach from the parking lot, and I spotted trouble immediately. A small crowd had gathered near my trailer—women in flowy dresses, men in suits way too formal for the beach.
There, in the middle of it all, directing the chaos like a traffic cop at a five-way intersection, was the sexy wedding lady, with her clipboard and her fancy accent and sexy boldness. I nudged Hamish with my elbow and nodded toward the spectacle.
“That’s my crush. Hot wedding planner.” I kept my voice low, not wanting to alert the wedding party to our salty, dripping presence yet. “She’s got this amazing accent, and she has this way of talking. Total dame vibes, like she’s going to call you a good boy and make you do all kinds of naughty things to her. Watch her come over and sternly yell at us.”
Hamish let out a soft gasp—maybe he found her as sexy as I did—and stopped abruptly. “Wait. Why would she yell at us?”
“Because she thinks she owns this part of the parking lot.” I grinned, watching her explain something to a photographer. “It’s close to her venue, the new Cannery Hotel. She shows up every few days to stage fancy wedding shoots.”
Hamish frowned, eyes darting between me and the wedding planner. “And you... what? Park here to annoy her?”
“I mean… Kind of,” I admitted, resuming our trek toward the trailer. “My business partner, Skylar, has already lectured me on how childish it is, and I know. It’s fucking stupid. But when I irritate her, she talks to me, and I like talking to her.”
“So you’re like a grade school bully?” Hamish’s voice had gone up an octave, his face flushed beneath his wetsuit hood. “You enjoy being yelled at?”
“Not yelled at, exactly. It’s more like... passionate disagreement.” I winked at him. “You’ll see. It’s hot.”
As we approached the trailer, Wedding Lady spotted us and her eyes narrowed. She said something to one of the bridesmaids and started walking in our direction, clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield.
Hamish made a strangled noise beside me, and I looked over, frowning when I realized that he was holding his surfboard like a shield. Maybe Wedding Lady scared him.
“I need to change,” he squeaked. Then he sprinted the last few yards to the trailer, fumbling with the door. “I’ll... be inside.”
“What about the—” But he’d already disappeared inside, leaving me standing there. Weird. Maybe he didn’t like strangers.
I propped my board against the side of the trailer and started to unzip the top of my wetsuit, peeling the sticky wet fabric down as I turned to face the approaching storm.
“Mr. Yamamoto.” The wedding lady stopped a few feet away, her hazel eyes flashing with annoyance.
Though was she also checking out my abs? Today she wore a cream-colored dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, and her blonde hair was pulled back in some complicated twist. She was crazy beautiful.
“I see you’ve once again chosen to park your... establishment... in the exact spot where I’m conducting a photoshoot.”
“Ms. Wedding Lady.” I bowed, enjoying the way her eyebrows shot up at the nickname. “What a coincidence. I was telling my client about you.”
“I’m sure you were.” Her accent made even sarcasm sound classy. She glanced at her watch, then back at the wedding party, who were now awkwardly milling around, unsure of what to do while their leader was engaged elsewhere. “Look, I don’t have time for our usual banter. Could you move your... trailer thingy? I’ve got a sunset shoot scheduled and the lighting will be ideal in about twenty minutes.”
I considered dragging it out, saying something about public property rights or having nowhere else to go, but something in her expression—a tiredness behind the annoyance—made me reconsider. Plus, I had Hamish waiting inside, probably doing something ridiculous, like getting stuck in his wetsuit.
“Tell you what.” I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “I’ll move it as soon as my client gets changed. Five minutes, tops.”
Relief flickered across her face. “Thank you. That’s... unexpectedly reasonable of you.”
“I can be reasonable.” I grinned, running a hand through my wet hair. “When properly motivated.”
Her eyes dropped to my chest, where water still beaded on my skin, then darted back up to my face. A flush colored her cheeks. “Yes, well. I appreciate it.”
“Maybe someday you’ll let me take you out on the water. Show you why I love this spot so much.”
“I don’t think my husband would appreciate that.”
“Bring him too,” I said. “I give great group lessons.”
