Another Shot with Summer Page 6

  Turning her board to face the oncoming waves, Summer checked what was coming and gulped. Good one. It was a monster, and underneath it, the black reef below grinned its sharp-toothed grin, begging for her to sprawl herself out in a bloody mess across its rocks. For a moment she considered letting the wave go. Looking to shore, she saw the beach still stacked with photographers and shook her head. T.J. was out there, that dickwad reporter, and…and Ashton. Her heart hiccupped a second. She was going to show all of them. It was as if the smirk on that douchebag reporter’s face hovered just in front of her. Tell me I can’t do it on my own, will you.

  Lying down, she swam hard to meet the wave, then turning, paddling, and kicking for all she was worth, she pumped her board to latch onto the thrust and push of the wave. Yuss. Sensing the water catch her, Summer stood up, crouching low at first to avoid the spilling tip of the barrel, and then shooting out into the air.

  Flying! OMG. Weightless for a second as she soared, she landed back on the water without skipping a beat, her board’s fins carving up the wave. The thrill charged through Summer like heat, and she felt her heart expand with the pure joy of it. She was on fire, moving so fast and yet standing right on top of water! Just like the first time she caught a wave, the thrill of harnessing the water’s perfect power, being right in the middle of nature, made her body sing.

  The huge noise of the water breaking diminished as her concentration continued, and for a few seconds, everything was perfect silence. As if she could hear the heartbeat of the ocean, Summer saw what she needed to do to keep in sync with the wave, and dug in with her left leg. The board spun. Go with it, go with it. She clenched her teeth and tightened her core. A wave like this was not the place to try out new maneuvers, but somehow, she was still on top of it. Not just on top of it, girlfriend! Hells no. She’d landed a complete spin. A full turn midair! Holy! She’d landed her first ever 360, a complete rotation on the wave, in Brazil, in front of everyone, at her first WSL event. Epic.

  The feeling of being airborne, of whipping around and still catching the tail of the wave coursed through her veins like bourbon. The water all around celebrated with her, calming and brightening. Like Ashton’s eyes.

  Whatever. She shook her head, unwilling to spoil this perfect moment with thoughts of a mere man. Throwing her head back, Summer let out a triumphant howl and let the final strands of the wave push her closer and closer to shore. The world was finally going to be hers. Looking at the competition boards, her grin dropped. The clock had stopped. Shit. Had her best ever wave even counted?

  But when she got back to the beach, Summer found Brooke practically wrapped in a smile. “Shit, girlfriend. You trying to show me up?”

  Summer returned the grin, and as she ran out of the muddling whitewash, the two high-fived. “That was…”

  “Bitchin’. Totally bitchin’. And have you seen who all the cameras are trained on now?”

  Summer looked up and over at the stand of photographers. Some were still concentrating on the ocean, but plenty had their lenses pointed in her direction. She gulped and watched her feet dent the fine white sand as they made their way up the beach. “Did I get it in, though? Time’s out.” She pointed over to the competition table.

  Brooke’s face fell for an instant. “I’m not sure. But plenty of people noticed. Time for a drink, either way.”

  Summer couldn’t argue with that. The two women headed for the open-sided competitors tent where there were more high-fives for the both of them. After the quickest blast under the showers she could manage, and in fresh clothes, Summer scanned the area for her friends. Finding them she headed over. Sipping at the beer Brooke had pushed into her hand, she tugged at the label on the bottle.

  “Nervous?”

  The male voice coming from behind her made her jump and her skin prickle. Ashton.

  She turned to him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I don’t know if my last wave counted or not.”

  Ashton nodded. “Of course. But that last wave was amazing, and even if it doesn’t count in this heat, it still counts with the WSL in the long run. You nailed it. Everyone saw it, and you felt it. I saw it in your face.”

  “How could you have possibly seen my face?”

  Ashton grinned and tapped the camera bag over his shoulder. “Zoom lens.”

  Of course.

  “Nice sentiment and everything, but if the points don’t add up, the points don’t add up.” An all too familiar male voice said from behind her.

  Summer turned again to find T.J. on her other side. She felt Ashton bristle without even having to look at him. Big brother protective bristling or…?

  “It’s not all about the points, sometimes,” Ashton said.

  “It is if you want to make it in the competition. I get that you don’t need to worry about that anymore, but Summer’s only just starting out. If she’s going to make it all the way, every point counts. Every time. And she can get there if she just keeps trying. Even without that last ride, her set was solid. You’re doing well, hon.” T.J. gave her a smile, and something caught fire inside her.

  “Keep trying? You’re really going to stand there and pat me on the head when I’m freaking out about this?”

  T.J. shrugged. “Keep your voice down. Someone might hear.” He put an arm around her, and it was all she could do to not shrug it off. Moreover, she saw Ashton stiffen even as T.J. looked around nonchalantly.

  “Looks like we won’t have to wait for the results much longer.” Ashton nodded towards an official who was conferring intently with the head of the judging panel.

  From inside the tent, Summer could see the score board and held her breath while numbers flicked up across the categories.

  “Well, happily, I don’t need to eat my board shorts today. Brooke Evans is through to the final with an easy lead,” the announcer piped up. Summer turned to look for her friend and saw her beaming by the bar, surrounded by her usual assortment of hopeful suitors—the woman was a man-magnet. Summer smirked. Brooke deserved it. She deserved everything that came her way, no matter what. Didn’t make it any easier to cope with being so far behind her friend, though. Not when Summer had finally admitted to herself she was just as good.

  Crossing her fingers by her side, Summer fought the urge to wring her hands in nervousness. If it happens it happens. She let out a breath and, feeling like an idiot, uncrossed her fingers. Nothing she could do about it now.

  Numbers filled the board, and the announcer kept up his chirpy reporting.

  Next to her name was a seven. Good but…no cigar.

  “Sorry, hon. But like I said, you had a good solid set. Everything you’ve surfed has been solid here. Nothing to be ashamed of. And if they’d counted your last wave, you probably would have made it.” T.J.’s voice was all care and compassion, loud enough that everyone around them would have heard. He even dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Bullshit. She rocked it, dude. She’s better than you give her credit for, and you know it.” Ashton’s voice was hard…even a little bit angry on her behalf?

  Summer looked between the two of them as the reality of what had just happened hit home. “I didn’t make it.” She managed to shrug her way out from under T.J.s arm without it looking obvious.

  “Not this time. Chin up. I’ll see you later,” T.J. said and gave her a salute as he walked away.

  A numb sensation started spreading up from Summer’s feet. That was it. The end. No more life as surf royalty. No spot in the competition.

  She flicked a glance at Ashton.

  “It sucks. No way to sugar-coat it.”

  Huh, Summer realized that was what she needed. Not pleasantries, not the disappointment she’d get from Maya or Brooke, but someone to realize just how much this sucked and how it was going to hurt. Bad.

  “We’ll get this photoshoot out of the way quickly, and then you can concentrate on where you’re going next,” Ashton said.

  The photoshoot. Damn. She open
ed her mouth to say…something, but Ashton held up a hand and motioned towards the commentator who had started talking again.

  “Most of you will have noticed the killer ride one of our ladies managed in that last heat. Summer Roberts ripped out probably the best 360 I’ve seen this week, and that’s saying something. You will also have noticed she didn’t make it into the final.”

  Summer blushed. Just what she had been hoping for, a public announcement that she was too distracted to nail her best wave inside the heat’s time frame.

  “Happily, there’s some good news to come. After her impressive showing yesterday outside the heats, solid form in all her recorded events, and that insane style on her last wave, the WSL team want to show a little faith. Summer Roberts isn’t in the women’s final here in Brazil, but she will be going to Bali next. I’m stoked to announce she’ll be the wild card entrant in the main event. I hope you’re ready to smash it, Summer, ’cause you’ll be up against everyone, men and women, and it’s the first time we’ve had a woman wild card at the open event. Congratulations! Someone buy the woman a beer!”

  “Oh my God, oh my God.”

  Summer felt Brooke behind her even before she heard the exclamations but couldn’t bring herself to turn around.

  “Shit, girl. Didn’t you hear what the man just said? Out of the way, big brother, Summer needs a beer.”

  Summer let herself be dragged away from Ashton into a throng of well-wishers spearheaded by Brooke. Never before had her body been so anesthetized out of the water. It was as if she were floating, lost at sea but stuck on dry land.

  “Earth to Summer, how about a smile?” Brooke’s prompting was gentle, but when she swung her eyes toward her friend, Summer realized that she needed to snap out of it pronto. A fair few cameras were pointed her way, no way did she want people thinking she was sour about missing out on the final, not with this sort of insane good news on her side.

  No matter the grin she plastered on her face, though, she couldn’t quite bring herself to let the reality of what had just happened in any deeper than the top level of her skin.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. Time to reel in the insanity. Lead on, Brooke.” Ashton was suddenly at her side and Summer looked at him gratefully as she followed him and his sister out of the competitor’s tent and off the beach back to their hotel room.

  When she opened the door to her and Brooke’s room, Maya was already inside.

  “So, we’re off to Bali. Did I tell either of you recently how awesome you are?” Maya gushed as Summer collapsed onto the tiny couch in the corner of their room, the couple of beers rushing through her system giving her a slight buzz she wasn’t used to.

  “This photo shoot…” Summer started.

  “I was just going to tell you about that,” Maya jumped in. “I called the client with the bad news good news, and they’re beyond happy.”

  “Happy I didn’t make the final?”

  “Happy that this is turning into an insanely good news story scenario. Underdog-battles-against-all-odds sells like you wouldn’t believe. I sent them a couple more pictures from Ashton’s portfolio, and they decided they didn’t need any more proof. Figure you should shoot the next part of their campaign in Bali, seeing as you’re going to be the golden girl over there anyways. You leave tomorrow to get a head start before the rest of the competition crew get there. Sorry, babe,” she said to Brooke. “But I’ll be here to cheer you on when you smash through the women’s final.”

  Summer felt her heart sink again. “I didn’t make it. I didn’t make the final at all.” Then she paused. “They didn’t do this because…”

  Maya looked at her aghast. “Because of what? Because of T.J.? Don’t you dare even think that.”

  Brooke piped up. “Suck it up, girl. I know it blows you didn’t make the final. But who cares. You’re going to Bali. And after that, we’ll take it on head-to-head like we’ve always planned.”

  “Exactly.” Maya nodded. “So we focus on what’s next. Your new sponsor wants to release a shot the day you go into the wild card competition. You leave day after tomorrow.”

  Summer hadn’t thought her head could spin any faster. “That soon?”

  “I know, right? You can thank me in your will when I make you rich and famous. Actually, you can thank me any time you like. It’s all the way to the top now for my two favorite girls. You can nail the women’s competition for me, Brooke, and you can give the boys a run for their money, Summer. Do you have any idea how much I am going to milk this?”

  “What about Ashton? Are you okay with this?” Summer said. She turned to look for him and realized he’d got her to the door then melted away.

  Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s getting a great contract out of it. He’ll be back on the circuit in a heartbeat, and this will replenish his pot of surf cash I’m sure he’s been eating into since the accident.”

  “That’s what I mean. It’s Bali. The scene of the accident. Shit must get real for him when he’s there. I mean, his leg looks fine, but is he okay now? Like really okay?”

  Since when do you care? Summer checked herself. Why did she suddenly care? Because she wanted him operating on both barrels while she made her way to the top then threw him into the dust? She smiled. Maybe.

  Brooke jumped in. “He’s a big boy. And it’s been three years. Time for you to focus on you, no?”

  Of course it was. Except… Except her body flared with sensation whenever he was around. Still, she was in charge now. Whatever happened, in all parts of her life, she was going to be in control of it.

  “Maybe it’ll be the final chapter of him coming back to the real world or something,” Brooke said.

  Faced with the enthusiasm of the other two and the prospect of a trip to Bali, somewhere she’d always wanted to go, Summer let herself get caught up in the excitement and even succumbed to checking out the hotel Maya had booked online. The initial disappointment of not making it into the women’s final was still there, but it was tempered by a thundering surge of anticipation, charging like a herd of Indonesian elephants through her. She was going to smash the waves in Bali, wipe away T.J.’s smug smile, and maybe even break a little piece off Ashton’s heart, like he’d done to hers.

  Maya’s phone buzzed with a message, and the woman’s eyes widened as she read something. She breathed out in a long sigh. “I can’t believe he would do that.”

  “Who?” Brooke asked offhandedly. They were both used to Maya being nailed to the computer or her phone every minute of the day.

  “T.J.”

  Summer’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “I don’t know if you want to read this. I can’t believe he did it. That reporter must have gone after him like a dog with a damn tasty steak.”

  Brooke grabbed at Maya’s phone and scanned it a moment.

  “The fuckin’ asswad.” She breathed the last word out with serious conviction.

  “Is anyone going to tell me what he actually said?”

  Maya cringed. “It’s not that bad. Or rather, it’s not bad for you. Brooke’s right, it makes him look an ass if you ask me.”

  “Give it.” Summer took the phone and scanned.

  It’s great she’s made it, sure. I mean she was always going to get there eventually. She had a great teacher.

  What about that 360? It’s not a move we see from you very often, T.J.

  Yeah. I don’t do it all that often. It’s a bit flashy for the waves I’m usually tackling. It’s all well and good to pull something like that when you know the rest of your set isn’t cutting it, but that’s not what careers are made of. Not really. But don’t get me wrong, it’s great that Summer’s getting a bit of attention now she’s trying to break out on her own. She sure looks great out there in that bikini.

  “Looks great in a bikini? What magazine is it? Can we ring them? Tell them T.J.’s never pulled off a 360 in his life? Oh my…the guy is a total…” Summer reread the blurb. “What a
re we going to do? I should say something, right? But something calm and professional that withers his balls into tiny little marbles. I should—”

  “Shush. Just for now. Shush. The best form of attack here is probably to say nothing. This is just what that reporter was hoping for. You coming out swinging is gold for them,” said Maya.

  “So, what do I do? Let him get away with it?” Summer found it hard to let the boil of anger gentle down into a simmer.

  “No. Show him that he’s wrong. Show everyone that he’s wrong, starting with nailing this shoot in Bali and then hammering him in the open event.”

  Summer felt her lips thin but forced her mouth to relax. No point taking it out on Maya. She’d agreed to play nice with T.J., but this meant war. Rather than smooth T.J.’s smug smile away, she was going to nail it to his ass, and Ashton was going to help. She just needed to work out how.

  Chapter Seven

  The breezy white curtains brushed against Ashton’s leg as he walked into the hotel room in Bali, but he barely looked up from his phone. He’d scanned the article Brooke had sent him on the way over. Brooke was right. The T.J. interview was a crock. If Summer had been a dude, Ashton would have expected fists at dawn.

  All the more reason to leave her the hell alone, then. She wanted a real life, she’d told him, a solid relationship and a full-on professional surf career. Seemed that she’d want the full happy ever after love package, too; marriage, kids, the whole deal. And good for her. But he didn’t fit in that package. Not even the smallest bit.

  Clenching his fists, he tried to stop the sensation that kept returning to them. The spark that had come from touching her. That filled his veins if he let himself think about her. Stop. It. He was going to take her photos. Move on. Get his life back on track. Not get caught up in the heat of a moment that wasn’t likely to last. Not be the guy that brought misery into all the lives he touched. He. Could. Not. Be. That. Guy. Again. That guy who once broke up with one of his sister’s friends by FedExing her a card because he was a cocky, smart-ass surf king. Messy didn’t really cover the weeks it had taken him to wash the surf wax out of his clothes when his last ex had caught up with him, or the groveling he’d had to do to his sister for forgiveness.