Break of Day (2 page)

I raised my eyebrows. He laughed again.

“Okay, fine. A richer man,” he corrected. “And,” he added, waving a finger, his voice overly serious, “I would donate every penny of that newfound wealth to splash research. So someday scientists could figure out a way to stop those bad waves from happening to good people.”

He shot me a teasing grin and I couldn't help a small smile in return. Now that I had distance between the ocean and myself I was able to relax a bit. The former sharp terror dulled to a lingering ache.

“Well, thank you,” I said sheepishly. “For the rescue, I mean. Now the News 9 powers-that-be can assume I'm only a tiny bit crazy. Instead of a full-on candidate for strait- jacketdom.”

“Please.” Asher waved me off. “Have you ever been to a TV newsroom wedding? By the end of the night they'll be so blind drunk they won't remember their own names, never mind your little surf-and-turf snafu.”

I snorted. “Maybe I need to start spiking drinks just in case . . .”

“That's my girl!” He held up his fist and I reluctantly bumped it with my own, my face flashing fire all over again. It was tough to be a redhead on the best of days. But this guy seemed to have “making me blush” as his superpower.

“Just do me a solid and skip my drink, okay?” he teased. “I have to give the best man toast later on and will need to keep my ability to speak in complete sentences if I'm somehow going to muddle through it.”

“That's right! The toasts!” I exclaimed. With all that had happened during the ceremony I'd almost forgotten I still had a few maid of honor duties left. Reaching into my dress's pocket I pulled out the paper I'd been working on the night before, studying it with critical eyes.

Asher gave a low whistle. “Wow, you came prepared,” he noted, looking impressed. “And here I was just thinking of winging mine.”

Before I could stop him, he reached out and plucked the paper from my hands, unfolding it and scanning the words I'd written. Once again I felt my cheeks heat as I stood there, awkwardly, not sure what to say.

“It's just a stupid little thing I whipped up . . .” I stammered.

He looked over at me. “This is really good,” he exclaimed, as if he were surprised. I didn't know whether to be pleased or insulted by that. He handed the paper back to me. “I'm going to sound like a total tool in comparison.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm sure you'll do fine. It's not rocket science, you know.”

“Well, obviously not for you,” he muttered. “I, on the other hand . . .”

“Asher Anderson! There you are!”

I looked up, just in time to see a vivacious blonde, wearing
a dress cut far too low to be considered proper wedding attire, practically throw herself on top of Asher. As one did, I supposed, if you were a hot blonde in a low-cut dress. As she kissed him soundly on both cheeks, he simultaneously tried to peel her off his body. I stifled an unexpected grin at the annoyed look on his face.

Maybe it wasn't so good to be the king all the time.

“Hey, Jess,” he said, his voice measured. “I didn't realize you were on the guest list.”

“Of course!” the girl—Jess—cried, almost indignantly. Then she giggled. “Okay, fine. I'm totally crashing. But how could I just leave you here, all by your lonesome, with all these bridesmaids wandering around, looking to hook up?” She gave me a derisive look, obviously lumping me into the aforementioned category. “Just consider me your plus one,” she cooed. “Now come on, let's go raid the buffet. Those lobster tails are not going to just eat themselves, you know.”

“Okay, okay!” Asher said holding up his hands in surrender. He gave me an impish shrug, then mouthed
sorry
before turning back to his little girlfriend. “Just hands off the tux, okay?”

She grinned. “You saying that only makes me want to rough it up more.”

And with that, she practically dragged him across the lawn, toward the main house. I watched the two of them go, surprised at the shimmer of disappointment I suddenly felt flutter through my stomach. Which was completely stupid, of course. I mean, it wasn't as if I had wanted him to stick around or anything. Sure, he was funny and nice. And he'd made me feel better about everything that had happened with his silly jokes. And yes, he was incredibly easy on the eyes and my body was still humming a little from his touch.

But that was where it ended. Where it had to end.

Because he was Asher Anderson. And I was . . . well, me. We may have been paired for the wedding, but in real life? We might as well have come from different planets. No matter what happened tonight, tomorrow I would cease to exist in his world. That was just reality.

Besides, if he had known what had truly freaked me out back on that beach? The real reason I was so scared of those waves? He wouldn't be interested in talking to me anymore anyway. In fact, he'd probably be the one to run away screaming.

I sighed, my mood sobering again as I turned back to the ocean, forcing myself to stare out into the water, watching the waves beat up the shore. I bit my lower lip, feeling my pulse kick up in my veins all over again.

Piper! Where's your brother?

Where the HELL is your brother?

Some people thought the ocean was beautiful. Peaceful. But to me, it was nothing more than a graveyard.

D
ude! What was that all about?” I demanded as Jess dragged me toward the main house where the wedding reception was taking place. “I was in the middle of a conversation there.”

Jess turned to me, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, you're the one who asked me to play wing girl, remember?” she reminded me, tossing her bleach blond locks over her shoulder. “Save you from all those Stage Five clingers? In fact, if I remember right you even offered a cash reward for a job well done.”

I groaned. “I asked you for protection from clingers, yes. That was Beth's maid of honor, for Christ's sake.”

“Beth's maid of honor who was totally clinging to you during the ceremony,” Jess pointed out. “Like, literally, I'm pretty sure you were the only thing keeping her standing upright at one point. And if that's not Asher Anderson DEFCON One, you need to refresh me on the definition.”

She had a point. Under any other circumstances I would have been entirely grateful for her quick and effective extraction. Why, I could think of some weddings where I was stuck talking to some obnoxious gold digger or another for
painful hours, unable to drag myself away. Which was why I'd suggested Jess “pop in” immediately after the ceremony in the first place. More often than not I found myself in need of her services at these sorts of things. A girl who wanted nothing more from me than friendship and maybe a ride to the beach every once in a while.

Which in my world was a very rare unicorn indeed.

But in this case . . . I stole a glance behind me, back to where Piper was still standing, still staring out into the sea. I'd actually kind of wanted a few more minutes to talk. Which was so unlike me, but there it was.

I'd met the girl briefly at the rehearsal dinner the night before. Mac told me she worked at News 9, but I was pretty sure I'd never seen her there. After all, she was nothing if not memorable with those crazy corkscrew curls and big, doelike brown eyes, framed by sooty lashes. Pair that with the generous dusting of golden freckles on her skin and her cute button nose and it had been all I could do not to break out into a full-on rendition of “Tomorrow,” Orphan Annie–style, in hopes of watching her pale skin flush bright red. I had always dug redheads for this reason. They usually wore their emotions on their sleeves. Nice for guys like me who were terrible at picking up the passive-aggressive cues most women liked to throw down in droves.

But during the ceremony? Her skin hadn't turned red—it had turned stark white. Like so white that for a moment I thought she was going to go all iZombie on me and start eating people's brains. Or at least pass out right where she stood. I'd never seen anyone get so freaked out over a simple wave before. I mean, sure, she was probably embarrassed more than anything—yelling
shit
in the middle of a wedding ceremony would do that to the best of us. But the thing was, she didn't seem embarrassed—at least not at first.

She seemed scared to death. As if she'd seen a ghost or something, rising from the water.

I realized Jess was still staring at me, an amused expression dancing on her face. “Look, I was just being a gentleman,” I told her. “No big deal.”

She snorted at this. I couldn't blame her either. While I was a lot of things,
gentleman
didn't exactly top the list. Nor did
superhero
or
knight in shining armor saving damsels in distress
for that matter. Hell, in most cases I was probably more likely to be voted the asshole that the damsels in distress needed to be saved from.

I found my gaze flickering back to Piper. What was it about her that had suddenly made me go all caveman down there? I mean, sure, she was cute. She was hot, too. Especially in that dress she was wearing. Which by the way was so not fair. I mean, bridesmaids dresses were supposed to be hideous, right? Obnoxious colors, too many frills? They certainly weren't supposed to cling to every curve, accentuate a perfect ass. God, there was one point during the ceremony where she'd asked me to let her go and I literally couldn't step away. Not unless I wanted the entire guest list to know just how much I liked her in that dress. Or at least how much a certain part of me did.

Which was totally obnoxious, I know. I did mention caveman, right? I mean there she was, scared to death, ready to bolt, and I was thinking about what it'd be like to pull her into the water and strip her bare. Grab that supple ass and pull her to me, grinding up against her, those luscious breasts of hers squashed against my chest. I imagined licking her, tasting the salt on her skin as the water splashed against us.

“Wow.” Jess let out a low whistle, effectively interrupting my fantasy. “I have to say, you're suddenly looking a little stalkery there yourself, bro. Maybe I need to go offer
her
my services instead.”

“Don't even,” I warned, flashing her a scolding look, mostly to hide my blush. Since when did I get so carried away by some chick? “You work for me and don't you forget it.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, pushing it in her direction without bothering to count it. She raised her eyebrows, looking down at the money.

“I'm pretty sure we agreed on twenty bucks,” she reminded me.

“Consider it a tip,” I said, pushing the money at her again. “After all, I know how big an acting job it is for you to pretend you find me attractive.”

“While it is, indeed, true I find the cock between your legs a huge turnoff,” she said with a smile, “I'm not your charity case anymore. Greta is making bank down at the bar these days. And I'm finally living the life I should have always been accustomed to.”

I turned to her, frowning. “So what, that's it? You're content to be a kept woman from here on out?”

“Certainly not,” she declared. “I'm aiming for full-on trophy wife.” She gave me a maddening grin and I couldn't help but laugh. Girl was too much.

“Well then,” I said, “it's good to know at least one of us has their priorities in order. But just keep the cash, okay? Hell, even a trophy wife needs a little pocket money from time to time. The kind that doesn't come with strings attached.”

After all, I knew all too well about strings.

Jess caught my expression. “Uh-oh,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “Let me guess. Mommie Dearest has been on your jock again.”

I snorted. “I'm pretty sure she's set up permanent residence at this point.”

“You do know you could just walk away, right?” she reminded me, throwing me a pitying smile. “I mean, you don't have to live under her thumb. You don't have to play her games . . .”

I frowned, scrubbing the back of my neck with my hand. I hated when she said things like this. When she made it seem so black-and-white. So easy. And to her it was, I guess. Because to her it was just a matter of money. She had no idea the true strings attached. No one did.

And as far as I was concerned? No one ever would.

And so instead, I forced a laugh. “Walk away?” I repeated, making my voice sound incredulous. “And what? Miss out on the mansions, the money, the Maserati?” I shook my head. “Yeah, that would be a definite no-go, captain.”

She rolled her eyes. “Man, I can only pray that someday I
have first world problems like yours, Anderson.” She punched me lightly on the arm. “Now what do you say we get the hell out of here? River texted me just before I got here and said there's a killer swell going on right now, just off of Black's.”

I paused, tempted. Surfing sounded pretty damn good right about now. The feel of fiberglass beneath my feet, the roar of the waves in my ears. The chance to push all these troubling thoughts aside and become one with the water. I was pretty sure I could get away with it, too; just give some stupid excuse and take off—no one would really care. In fact, they probably expected it of me.

But then I found myself glancing over at Piper, who was now talking to Beth. She had had every reason to take off herself—after what had happened on the beach no one would have blamed her. Unlike me, she'd actually had a real excuse to bail.

But instead, she'd stayed.

And suddenly I wanted to stay, too. I wanted to talk to her more. Maybe find out what had really freaked her out. Make sure she was really okay.

I turned to Jess. “Sorry,” I said. “I've got to give a toast.”

Jess laughed, glancing over at Piper. “A toast, huh?” she teased. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Hey, baby, you want to toast and chill?”

“Har, har. I'm the best man, remember? I have duties!”

She giggled. “He said
duties
.”

“Oh my God, are you five?” I laughed. “Seriously, just get the hell out of here. I will find you later, I promise.”

“Sure you will. At five
AM
when you call me looking for a ride home to avoid the walk of shame.”

“You don't have to pick up the phone.”

She held up her hands. “What can I say? I've always had a soft spot for billionaire breeders.” She reached over and gave me a hug. “Have fun,” she told me. “And call me if you need me. I'm serious.”

“I know you are,” I assured her. “And I appreciate that. More than you know. But I'm pretty sure I'll just be giving a toast tonight. And then I'll be heading home.”

“If you say so, bro.”

And with that, Jess took off toward the parking lot. I watched her go, a smile playing on my lips. She was something, my friend. I loved the hell out of her. Even if she was completely off her rocker half the time.

Even if she had no idea what my so-called “first world problems” were really like.

I rose to my feet, ready to head back to the ceremonies. Maybe I could find a quiet corner and work on my speech. I had planned to just wing it—like I did most everything else in life. But Piper's speech had been really good. I mean, really heartfelt and sweet. I was going to look like a total douche, following her. At the very least I needed to scribble something down. Something—

A golf cart cut me off, then stopped in front of me. I looked up, my face sagging as I saw who was inside.

Speak of the devil. Mommie Dearest in the flesh.

I had been hoping all her charity duties would have forced her to miss this little shindig. But luck was clearly not my lady tonight.

“Hi, Mom,” I said reluctantly, watching her climb out of the cart. She was dressed in full-on wedding finery, as if she were the mother of the bride herself. My mother did not, as she'd said on many occasions, “do garden party casual.” If there was a party—garden or otherwise—she'd attend dripping in diamonds or she wouldn't be attending at all.

We should all be so lucky . . .

“Baby!” she cooed, as if she were surprised to see me. I watched as she made her way toward me, her high heels immediately sinking into the soft lawn. She looked down disdainfully, as if the grass itself were to blame for her own inappropriate choice in beach wedding footwear. Then she clomped over to me, holding out her arms. I reluctantly gave her a hug.

“Hey, Mom,” I said. “I didn't know you were going to be here today.”

“Why, of course I was!” she exclaimed, looking offended
that I would even suggest otherwise. “How could I miss the wedding of two of our finest employees?”

By
finest employees
she meant cash cows. And she wasn't wrong in that respect. Beth had practically put the station on the map the year before, breaking a huge story about an Internet hacker who had released confidential CIA documents online. Overnight News 9 had gone from number three to a solid number one in the ratings and Mom had been leveraging the advantage ever since.

That was her superpower, after all.

“You looked very handsome up there,” she said, reaching up to fix my bow tie, which didn't need fixing, thank you very much. “And very sweet of you to come to the rescue of that poor girl. What was her problem, anyway? She practically ruined the wedding with those theatrics.” She huffed.

“She just got startled, that's all,” I said with a frown. “I hardly think it ruined the wedding.”

My mother sniffed, letting me know she disagreed, but thankfully couldn't be bothered to get into a full-blown debate. After all, why pick on a stranger when she could go after her own son?

“So,” she said, giving me a pointed look, proving me right, “will you be making an appearance at the station this week?”

And here we went.

“Sure,” I said. “Seems likely. It is where I work, after all.”

“Is it? Sometimes I wonder.” She gave me a pointed look. “Especially after hearing from Richard that you taped your forecast three times last week so you could skip out before the show and go surfing.”

I scowled.
And . . . thank you, Richard
.

“It was an accurate forecast, wasn't it?” I protested. “I mean, it's not exactly like the weather changes here much.” Hell, I could have probably taped a week's worth of broadcasts and no one would have been the wiser.

Mom gave an exasperated sigh. “For the thousandth time, Asher, if you don't want to do the job, let me hire a producer to do it for you. They can do all the research and forecasting. All you'd have to do is show your handsome face on TV.”

I shook my head. We'd had this discussion a hundred times. But there was no way I was going to give in. Let her cut off my balls and put me on a leash.

“Or I could just quit?” I suggested, waggling my eyebrows at her. “Maybe you'd like that?”

Her face clouded. “Do not even say that. You know what that would do to your father. Not to mention the community. They've depended on the Anderson family to forecast their weather for the last thirty-five years. This is your legacy, Asher. What your father worked his whole life to give you. It's time you start acting like you care about that. That you care about him.”