Read Online Riptide by Lindsey Scheibe - Free Book Online Page B

Deal-with-the-Dad. She’s throwing out all the signs. Heck, at this point she’s gonna be asking me out. And then I’ll be stuck between a rock and a hard place. She climbs up into Esmerelda and lets me close the door.
    I trot to the driver’s side ’cause I’m playing it cool. She looks good today. I shift into drive, figuring out how to joke this off. “So who is this demure sugar mama sitting next to me? Buying breakfast. Wanting doors opened. Were you abducted by aliens last night?”
    “No. Poker players.”
    I laugh. “Yeah. Well, you’ll be glad to know I was robbed. Of like five dollars in quarters. At one point I had twenty. But since fifteen of those buckeroonies were bonus, they don’t count. These guys would crack you up, Grace. You should have seen them last night. You’d have thought I was hanging out with professional poker players. One dude even wore sunglasses the whole time. And kept a straight face.”
    Grace settles back into the seat. “Well, I’m glad you had fun with your new friends.”
    She sure as heck doesn’t sound like it. I exit her neighborhood. “I can tell. Where to after coffee, Queen Grace?”
    “Bagel Palace?”
    Grace could care less where we eat before surfing. In fact, the quicker the better. So she’s being extra sweet suggesting one of my favorite places, Bagel Palace, which can have major lines.
    “You got it.” I turn up the radio.

     
    Breakfast at Bagel Palace shakes things back to normal. When we get to the beach, I carry our boards and Grace carries the bags. We reach our spot to set up camp. I lay the boards down. Grace tosses me wax and I get to work. She shimmies into her wetsuit and zips herself. That’s weird. It’s usually my job.
    I say, “All right, Femme Fatale—you ready to bust a 360 or what?”
    “I hope.”
    I toss her the wax. “Hope? What kind of talk is that?”
    She shrugs.
    “You gotta get out there and show the wave who’s boss.”
    She grabs her board and turns around.
    I go for it. “So, who you been surfing with this week?”
    She says, “Damien’s been giving me rides. He even gave me some nice pointers on airs.”
    Inwardly, I wince. The dude’s a total douche and his reputation with the ladies isn’t the kind of thing I want Grace involved with, and it’s certainly not what Mr. Parker would want for her. Damien will just take what he can get and then walk away with her dignity and a smile. Freakin’ A. What to do …
    I zip my suit and then attach my leash. “Watch out for him. It’s cool he’s giving you pointers, but remember his reputation.”
    Grace huffs. “It’s not—”
    I back up and say, “I’d hate for you to get mixed up with that. Remember your focus: surfing and academics. Heartache’s not on the list.” As she opens her mouth to protest, I say, “Let’s kick it.”
    Then I run into the water, shins splashing salt. She laughs and follows, too competitive not to race me. The best moment of the day so far. We paddle out to where everyone else is already catching waves. Grace lags behind.
    An hour later, I’ve shredded waves. Grace has been shredded.
    She paddles over to me looking tired and pissed. “C’-
mon,” I say. “Your last try was better. You sort of pulled a 200, if that’s a move.” Then, to lighten things up: “But I have to say—your wipeouts have style. The way your body angles toward the water as your board nosedives is impressive.”
    “What is this? A bad attempt at reverse psychology?”
    I shrug. “If the board shorts fit … ”
    She squares her body and paddles toward an incoming set. In a rush to catch the wave, she hits it right and pulls a massive bottom turn before assaulting the lip. Her board goes vertical for an instant before she spins 180. And thar she blows. She bunks the rotation and crashes. A minute later she pops up to the surface sputtering.
    I paddle over, grinning. Push her board over to her. She clings to it like moss on a rock. “You’re da bomb,