Authors: Robyn Grady
He
blew out a long breath. ‘My shoulder injury seems pathetic compared to what you’ve
gone through.’
‘It
was hard at first.’ She thought more. ‘Confusing, really. But I was walking six
months later. These days, people who don’t know about the accident can’t tell.’
‘How
do you feel when you go into the water now?’
She
tugged the blanket up around her neck. ‘I haven’t been in since.’
‘There
must be a part of you that wants to?’
Her
stomach muscles knotted. Odd. She could recall that day, her injury and
recuperation, and be as close to okay with it as a person could be. But the
thought of going back in the water …
Shuddering,
she drew the blanket higher still.
She
didn’t want to push herself that far. She simply wouldn’t feel safe. But
fearless Alex Wolfe didn’t need to know that. Tonight she didn’t want a pity
party, then a pep talk.
‘One
day I might,’ she said lightly, then added more truthfully, ‘I bought an
apartment on the esplanade so I’d be close to the sound and smell of the ocean.
Hasn’t enticed me yet.’
He
lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her inside wrist. ‘You must have had
good people there for you afterward.’
‘Unfortunately
one of them wasn’t my boyfriend.’ When Alex’s brows jumped, she qualified, ‘Fiancé
actually. We’d planned to be married.’
A
growl rumbled in his throat. ‘Please don’t tell me he dumped you because of the
accident.’
‘Scott
was a surfing pro with titles like me. We both lived for the water. At the time
it seemed we lived for each other. We surfed the world’s hot spots together. We
were both totally dedicated to our sport. But after my accident, things
changed.
I
changed. Scott didn’t have
too deep of an insight into how my injury had affected me … affected every
aspect of my life. Truth was he wasn’t much interested in spending the time or
the effort to try to understand. Seemed if we couldn’t surf together,’ she
explained, ‘we had absolutely nothing in common.’
She
cast her mind back and felt that same twinge of regret and awareness she’d
acknowledged back then.
‘Scott
came to see me less and less often,’ she went on. ‘When he did visit, we had
little to say. Our relationship had been that superficial—more about how I
looked hanging off his arm at events than anything.’
She
didn’t add that he’d never touched her again after her injury, although from
Alex’s keen expression she wondered if he’d guessed.
Alex’s
voice resonated in the semi-darkness. ‘So he broke it off.’
‘I
did. When I realised how separate we felt without the ocean bringing us
together, seemed there was only one choice.’
Alex
grunted. ‘I hope he and his surfboard are happy together.’
She
gave a wry grin. ‘I’m sure they are. And I’m not bitter about that. I had
friends who were fabulous through the whole thing. My parents, and Gran, of
course … even when I was being a pain and down on myself,’ she admitted.
When
he brought her close and grazed his lips over her crown, she closed her eyes
and absorbed his masculine smell as well as his strength.
‘You’re
being too hard on yourself,’ he murmured.
She
didn’t bother saying she knew that she wasn’t. But she’d survived—and
flourished, in some ways, at least. Tonight with Alex had helped even more.
‘I
needed something else I could put my heart and soul into,’ she said. ‘Turned
out to be something that I ended up believing in a thousand times more than
collecting sports awards.’
‘Helping
others recover from their injuries. And you’re wonderful at it.’
Her
heart swelled. ‘You really think so?’
‘I
know I’ve given you a rough time but I appreciate everything you’ve done. In
fact, I think I’m in need of a little therapy right now.’
Alarmed,
she studied his eyes for signs of physical pain. They had been pretty energetic
beneath the sheets. ‘Is your shoulder hurting?’
‘Higher.
A little ache—’ he tapped his lips ‘—right here.’
Relaxing,
she laughed. ‘I can fix that.’ She came forward and her kiss skimmed his
bristled jaw. ‘How does that feel? Or maybe I should try this technique.’ Her
tongue slid down to the beating hollow at the base of his throat.
He
rolled her over and murmured against her parted lips, ‘Libby, I’m aching all
over.’
THAT
morning he and Libby ate breakfast at a local Manly café.
With
the waves washing on the beach and traffic, both pedestrian and motor, passing
at a leisurely weekend clip, they took an outside table and enjoyed the perfect
autumn sunshine while ordering—fruit and toast for the lady, a full breakfast
with bacon, eggs, fried mushrooms and tomatoes for him. He’d worked up quite an
appetite, Alex realised, setting his napkin on his lap and considering
something sweet to finish with … not that he hadn’t enjoyed ‘sweet’ all night
long.
There
had been a sour note, however, when Libby had told him about her so-called
fiancé. She had to know she was better off without that dolt. What kind of a
man would commit himself by giving a beautiful girl a ring and then—
The
fork stopped midway to Alex’s mouth.
What
had happened to Libby’s engagement ring? Was that why she wasn’t into jewellery
now? Bad memories of a lying solitaire?
Alex
stabbed more egg on his fork.
He
hoped she’d dropped it in an express post bag and sent it back to that son of a—
‘Do
you eat like that every morning?’
Snapping
back, Alex assembled a smile. ‘Today I was famished.’ Before he brought the
fork to his mouth again, he added, ‘That’s your fault.’
‘We
didn’t get much sleep,’ she admitted beneath lowered lashes as he chewed and
set his cutlery aside.
‘Sleep’s
overrated.’
‘Why
sleep when you can race, right?’ She slanted her head and a waterfall of
silvery blond cascaded over her shoulder as she leaned back. ‘How did it all
start? You mentioned taking your father’s cars out and earning yourself a
reputation.’
Needing
time, Alex patted his mouth with the napkin. The subject of his father could
get tricky. Plainly put, he didn’t like to discuss it. The topic caused his
insides to crawl and made him ashamed that his last name was Wolfe. Still, if
Libby had the courage to open up and come clean about her slug of an ex …
Alex
cleared his throat and sat back.
Guess
he could share a little more.
‘The
first time I took off,’ he began, ‘I wasn’t quite fourteen. My father …’ Alex’s
throat tightened and he grunted, remembering too well. ‘William was being his
usual obnoxious self. I needed to escape so I lifted his favourite sports car
and tore off. That’s the moment I knew what I wanted to do. How I wanted to
live. I felt at home with the top down, the wind on my face, racing away as
fast as four wheels could take me.’
Like
it was yesterday, he recalled the thrill of that first time pitting himself
against the curves and dips in the road, against the bona fide danger of excess
speed. It never got old.
‘And
your father never caught you?’
Before
he could contain it, Alex flinched. In time he hid the subsequent shudder. No
wonder he’d rather not speak of those days. Preferred never to think of them,
full stop.
Reaching
for his juice, he resumed his more casual mask. ‘Eventually he caught me. By
that time, sneaking out with one of his cars had got to be addictive … a
regular event. He used to spot a scratch or dent now and then.’
The
beatings that followed had been worth every minute he’d got to spend behind the
wheel.
Libby’s
glistening eyes said she didn’t know whether to be amused or shocked. ‘You’re
lucky you didn’t kill yourself. Or someone else.’
Of
course she was right. Thank God he’d hooked up with someone who had taught him
early about respect—for himself, for cars, as well for others on the road.
‘If
it’s any compensation, my joyrides got me expelled at the end of summer term ‘91.’
Her
face fell. ‘Oh, Alex …’
‘They
also got me noticed by a gang who loved fast cars as much as I did.’ He smiled.
Good times. ‘I bought myself a souped-up dirt bike and competed with the other
guys in weekend meets. That’s where I got a taste for winning. We had our own
races organised in the back streets on quiet weekends.’
Her
smile was wry. ‘Sounds like a wild crowd.’
‘There
were some parties,’ he admitted, taking a sip of his drink. Given that last one
… He set down his glass and pinned back his shoulders. ‘Probably too many
parties.’
But
that was a whole other story and one he refused to broach with Libby now. With
anyone
any time
.
A
touch on his arm had him glancing up to find her worried gaze.
‘Alex
… you okay?’
He
shook off the image of Annabelle after that night and pasted on a smile. ‘Fine.
I’m fine.’
‘Did
you ever get in trouble with the law?’ she asked.
‘There
was one night,’ he said carefully. ‘A police man took pity on me. Said he’d
look the other way if I put my so-called talent to good use rather than playing
the lunatic. He gave me the name of a racing buddy of his. A mechanic in
Oxfordshire.’
Elbow
on the table, she set her cheek in the bed of her hand. ‘And he took you under
his wing?’
That’s
when life took its first good turn.
‘Carter
White became my coach in life as well as on the track.’ Alex’s chest grew warm
the way it did whenever he thought of the difference that one man had made. ‘When
I first went to his shop, I wanted to jump in the first car I could and tear up
the road. But Carter taught me to value my skill and the vehicles I drove. He
also made me promise to catch up on classes I’d missed after I was expelled for
truancy.’
‘I
thought you said you were expelled because of joyriding.’