Exposing Ethan (Cassidy Kincaid Mystery Book 4)

to the center of the face. The breaking lip chased her, roaring in her ears. At that moment, she imagined Pete looking over his shoulder at her from the lineup, watching her disappear. Surfing a place like this would have been high on his list, despite his lack of surfing ability. Pete was always up for any kind of adventure; he longed for those experiences that so totally consumed him, even if it meant putting himself in danger.
Damn you, she thought as the wave’s shoulder softened and she carved over it, flopping down on the deck of her board to paddle back out. Damn you for risking your life for some stupid story.
Had surviving the avalanche contributed to him feeling invincible?
You promised you would never leave me, she thought as unwanted emotion twisted her insides into knots.
Back in the lineup, a group of three surfers clustered close together. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their loud laughter and jeering made her want to steer clear of them. Bruce arrived after taking a wave.
“Get a good one?” he asked, pushing upright.
“Yeah,” she said, pushing away Pete’s surprise visit. “You?”
He seemed to be keeping an eye on the pack of three surfers. “Yeah, though some asshole tried to drop in on me.”
“Am I going to have to worry about you getting beat up?”
“Please,” he scoffed, finally breaking his gaze from the trio. “I do the educating around here.”
“Is that what it’s called?” she asked, grateful for the comic relief.
He splashed her, then nodded at the horizon. “Outside,” he said, lowering onto his board.
Cassidy sighted the dark lines marching toward them. “I want the first one,” she said, and scrambled to follow him.
Within a few hours, the wave fattened with the rising tide and most of the surfers paddled in. She and Bruce kept tabs on each other, but Bruce seemed distracted. Did it have to do with the rowdy trio? Or was it the weird energy she had felt from him during the drive?
Cassidy put herself in position for a wave to ride in. One other surfer remained; the last of the trio Bruce had been slyly watching.
They sat side by side in silence, Cassidy keeping her eyes on the horizon. Maybe Bruce’s preoccupation stemmed from a run-in with these three in the past. She had been surprised to learn that occasionally, certain ethnic groups hazed him—telling him he wasn’t a “real” Asian or “to go back to the rock.”
“You’re a pretty good surfer,” the remaining surfer said. “For a girl.”
Her hackles sprang to life under her wetsuit. “Excuse me?”
A round face with almond-shaped eyes crinkled in laughter. “Gotcha. You should have seen the look on your face though.”
She frowned as the recognition took hold. “Wait. You were at Drift last night.”
“I thought that was you,” he said with a sharp nod. “I’m Bo.”
Cassidy returned the greeting.
The current had pushed them too far inside so they both lay prone to reclaim their position.
They reached the outside and sat up. Cassidy tucked her hands into her armpits and squinted at the horizon but saw no promising blips that indicated a rideable wave.
“How come Quinn isn’t here?” Bo peered behind her, as if they might spot him paddling out or lingering nearby.
Because he didn’t get home till two a.m. she thought. “He’s chicken,” she said instead, surprising herself. Why would she share something that could be used against her brother?
“Ah, so he’s smart. This place can eat you alive.”
“Today doesn’t seem so bad,” she said.
“That’s because you can surf. We get beginners out here. It can get ugly.”
Sighting a ridge of swell on the horizon, she got down to paddle for it. “Well, see you,” she added over her shoulder.
At the wave’s takeoff, she spun and paddled one, two, three and soared down the face. The higher tide made the wave softer, more sluggish, but it was still fun. As she carved her last turn, out of the corner of her eye she saw Bo drop in on the wave behind hers.
After navigating the tricky exit, she climbed the rest of the way to the concrete platform parking lot, her frigid feet too cold to feel the sharp pebbles and grit. Bruce stood at the tailgate of his SUV, his waist wrapped in a towel while five feet away, a pair of tourists gawked.
Cassidy averted her eyes and busied herself with strapping her board to the roof. Opening the passenger side door, she then used it as a shield to peel her wetsuit down both arms then her torso, leaning against the side of the SUV to tug the last of it off. Shivering in her bikini, she reached for her towel. Across from her, Bruce stood on the running board, his naked torso visible as he lashed the final strap holding down their surfboards. She had forgotten how cut his chest and arms were. She also noticed a small pink pucker halfway down his rib cage. A scar?
He leaned in to grab his pile of clothes, his gaze meeting hers. Realizing she had been staring, she busied herself with folding up her wetsuit, her cheeks suddenly hot.
“I think I’ll finish changing in the restroom,” he said.
“Aw, and spoil the fun for your friends?” she asked, nodding at a young couple posing for a selfie with Bruce’s SUV in the background.
“Nothing to see here,” he joked, then disappeared down the row of cars.
Cassidy quickly pulled on her t-shirt, then snuck her wet bikini top from underneath it, then repeated the quickie move with her shorts, using the towel around her waist like a skirt. The only problem was getting her bra on without being obvious about it, or having it get twisted up on her damp skin. She looked around, hoping to see the tourists moving on, but to her dismay, they were still posing. I guess I’ll just skip it for now. She carried her wet items and towel to the back.
“You going to be at Drift again tonight?” a