Unfuckingreal.

Didn’t know what did it, the vulgar she was throwing at me, her fiery tone that paired with it, or the sweetness I heard underneath, but I was hooked. Every muscle in my body tightened as her voice seeped into my ear and awakened my mind.

Fuck sleep. I was no longer interested.

That feisty thing on the other end of the phone was filthy and unquestionably infuriated, ready to sink her claws into me and draw blood.

I would welcome an assault from her with arms outstretched and the biggest grin smeared across my face. I couldn’t help it. She was fucking fantastic. Passionate in her defense. Silver-tongued and ballbusting.

My ears weren’t the only parts of me enjoying that conversation.

I wanted to taste her voice. I thought about what her lips looked like as those words left her, if they were pink and wet and swollen and if she bit them while she was silent and waiting, hearing out my objections.

Strange how quickly an obsession can build.

One phone call had me reeling, and it was never even meant for me.

I hadn’t laughed like that in months, and it felt good.

The kind of good I wanted to keep feeling, and I could’ve.

I could’ve kept her going. Lied. Revealed nothing and let her lay into me as much as she needed to. But she deserved to know I wasn’t the person she was seeking out. And her response?

“Fuck you.”

Yeah. Fuck me.

How long would I be consumed by this mystery woman?

Hours, at least. That was for certain. It was eleven o’clock and I was trying to busy myself at work on Wednesday, but nothing was taking my mind off that voice.

“Would you fuckin’ relax?” I glared down at my lap, pressing my palm against the tent in my shorts.

I got hard every time I thought about her. It was becoming a major fucking problem.

My gaze lingered until the heat in my groin subsided, then I resumed the tedious task of staring at my phone on the counter. The very phone containing her number.

Fuck this. How pathetic was I going to allow myself to become today?

I pushed away from the counter with a grunt and went to the corkboard on the back wall displaying this week’s lesson sign-ups.

I removed old advertisements and sales that no longer applied. I studied the list of names, noted the instructors posted next to them, then dropped my shoulders and glanced back at the phone.

If that piece of shit devil of a device had a mouth, it would’ve fucking smiled at me.

It was winning. No contest. I knew it. Apple knew it. It was only a matter of time before I caved and dialed her up, giving in and fully acknowledging my fucked-up obsession.

I raked a hand down my face as I remembered how abruptly she ended our conversation last night. How quick she was to apologize and get off the phone.

Red flag, right there, dick.

I didn’t even get to utter a partial good-bye before she hung up and left me reeling. She wouldn’t answer me. I’m the guy she didn’t intend on calling.

I moved back to the counter, but instead of caving and grabbing my phone, I pulled the crossword puzzle off the shelf behind me and tossed it on the wood, grabbing a pen and leaning over the paper.

I read the clues. Filled in a few answers. Got pissed when I filled shit in wrong and had to write over it, all because my mind wasn’t on that damn crossword or the answers I was filling in.

Not one bit.

I had officially run out of things to distract me.

My phone vibrated and shifted on the counter, snapping my attention off the spot on the paper I was spacing out on.

I reached for it and glanced down at the text from my sister. My hand readied to reply.

And then …it hit me.

A text …a text I might be able to coax her to respond to. It was, without a doubt, the less personal approach.

Decision made, I palmed my phone and pulled up my recent calls. My thumbs moved hurriedly over the keypad.

Wild Girl. Eaten any innocent men alive today yet?

I hit Send. I felt good.

Keeping it playful was most likely the best way to go about this. My other thought, confessing how hard I came last night after she hung up on me, might’ve backfired.

She’d respond, all right. With a restraining order.

The front door chimed, pulling my attention off the phone.

Jamie, the same motherfucker who I wanted to beat the piss out of last night, drifted into the shop with a small group of women floating in behind him. He jerked his chin in my direction, greeted me with a smug grin, then turned his head and watched as the three ladies moved to congregate by a table covered in T-shirts and board shorts.

Stopping on the other side of the counter I was standing behind, he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“What up? What are you doing?”

I placed the phone down.

“Nothing. Waiting on that shipment of boards to arrive.”

Not a lie. I was waiting. The boards were set to arrive sometime today. I just couldn’t seem to care one way or another about it.

I nodded toward the window facing the ocean. “How’s it out there today?”

“Decent. A bit choppy.” He lifted his brow. “You tryin’ to get out? I can man the shop. I don’t have any other lessons until later this afternoon. I think three o’clock is my next one.”

I shook my head, stepped back, and leaned my weight against the table, crossing my arms tight across my chest.

Jamie and I co-owned Wax, a surf shop walking distance from the beach.

We opened the store a couple years back when both of us lived and breathed sand and salt water. Back when I did surf, it was purely for enjoyment. I craved the rush of adrenaline. The freedom and adventure it provided. Jamie was the same, but it was different for him. He was a local hero. A Dogwood Beach legend. He won three world championships back-to-back and was one of the most powerful free surfers I’d ever seen.

Kid was fucking talented. He split his days in the shop with me and out on the water.

“Where the fuck is Cole? Wasn’t he supposed to be back with our lunch by now? I’m starving.”

“He called. Screwed up the order and had to go back,” I replied.

“Serious?”

“Yep.”

“Idiot.” Jamie laughed.

His gaze trained on the three women in the store as they checked out some long boards.

“How difficult is it to remember a Chinese take-out order for three? He needs to get his ass out of the sun. I think that hippy organic sunscreen he uses is killing off his brain cells. No joke.”

“I don’t know. I had some chick stop in here the other day and ask what brand he wears. Said he gave her a lesson and smelled good, or some shit. She ended up getting his number before she left.”

Jamie straightened. He looked stunned.

It took everything in me not to crack up.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Shut the hell up. Cole got laid based on his love for the environment?”

I shrugged.

One of the three girls browsing around the shop came up to the counter. Her smile passed between myself and Jamie.

“Excuse me. Um …” She paused to bite at her bottom lip. “Can one of you help us reach those shirts up there?”

She pointed behind her at the wall of merchandise, allowing the tiny top she was wearing to ride up her body and reveal a pierced navel and a tribal tattoo surrounding it, making no attempt to cover herself after she lowered her hand.