Page 3 of Crashing Into You

And she’s fierce, too. I watch in growing amusement as she follows the girls around the shop, her frustration obvious as she cleans up after them. They are being brats, I guess. I almost laugh out loud when she shuts them down about getting a discount.

Then I decide to give her a hard time as well. Maybe it’s the hangover, or maybe it’s something else. Her blue eyes widen when I speak to her, but then she frowns when I mention the poster.

That’s interesting. Women usually fall all over me when they find out what I do. I don’t need or want a discount, but something about this girl makes me want to get a reaction out of her. But it’s not the one I expected.

When she calls me an asshole I laugh, surprise bubbling through my chest. Her cheeks are pink, her hands covering that kissable mouth, and I find myself wanting to pull them away so I can see her. She’s fucking adorable, as well as correct. We are kind of being assholes.

I watch her as she wraps whatever I’m buying, paying without even really noticing how much it is. She keeps glancing at me from under her long lashes, pink still on her delicate cheekbones. “Thank you,” she mumbles, pushing the bag towards me.

My fingers brush against hers as I take the bag, and my shorts feel tighter all of a sudden. What the fuck is going on? I’m about to ask her out when I remember the two girls and realise what a dick move that would be. Still, as they drag me from the shop, still giggling, I make a mental note to go back there again. Alone.

“Where to now, ladies?” I sling an arm around each of my companions’ shoulders as we continue along the street, but turn for one last glance at the shop. The girl is in the front window, pinning up more garlands, her shirt pulling tight across her as she reaches up.

Yeah. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.

ChapterTwo

Claire

“I’m home!”

My voice echoes around the open-plan living/dining area of my home. No one answers. Not surprising, really, seeing as I live alone.

I put my bag on the long dining table and head into the kitchen area, switching on the kettle. It might be hot outside, sun still streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the ocean, but I like to wind down after work with a cup of tea.

Wild, right? I’m a regular party queen.

I don’t mind a drink, actually, but don’t make a habit of it. I am going out tonight, but need a few minutes first.

What a day. It ended up being pretty quiet for the rest of the afternoon, but I’m still recovering from calling a customer an asshole. And not just any customer, but the guy from the actual poster in the store.

Oh god. I stir my tea, remembering how he laughed, how he watched me as though I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. And how hot he looked doing it. I really, really hope he doesn’t complain to Anna. I like my job, even if I don’t necessarily need it. It makes me feel like part of the community, though I haven’t been here long.

I take my tea outside. The wooden decking is warm under my bare feet, and I sigh with relief as I sink into the soft cushions on the sunlounger. I sip my tea and take in the view. I never get tired of it. The ocean is silver-blue, the dark green coastline undulating like a snake, Lorne a distant cluster of buildings cradled in one of the curves. There are surfers out at the nearby point, riding the waves as though they can walk on water.

I live on the Great Ocean Road. Well, below it, to be completely accurate. A driveway lined with tall eucalyptus winds from the road down to a flat open area cut partially into the cliff, which is where my house is. It’s long and low, built of timber and glass, wrapped around with decking to capture the stunning views. An infinity pool runs along one edge of the decking, a hot tub set into it, and the jagged cliff tumbles away beneath it, a crooked pathway lined with Ti-tree leading to the beach below.

It’s my parents’ dream house.

Shame they’re not here to see it.

I finish my tea and head back inside. I check my phone before I start getting ready to go out, just in case. I’m meeting a couple of friends at the Inlet pub. I could have gone straight from work and met them for dinner, but just felt like I needed some space.

No more worrying texts, thank god. I guess he hasn’t managed to find another number yet. Instead, there’s just a message from my friends, letting me know they’re already at the pub and to get my ass down there. I’m really looking forward to it, I realise. I need to vent, blow off a bit of steam, and these girls are the best for that.

I head into my bedroom and through to the ensuite, turning on the water in the big walk-in shower. As I step under the warm spray, I try not to worry about the fact I might get fired. I do a good job, Anna knows that. It’s not that big of a deal. And Bryce didn’t seem like the type to make a complaint anyway. I hope.

As I soap my body, I think of him. The way his green gaze followed me, the way his T-shirt was tight around his shoulders and chest. The way his mouth curved.

Too bad he’s a surfer. He was pretty hot, otherwise.

Bryce

The ocean here is silver-blue, the water cold even on the warmest days. There’s nothing between us and Antarctica except for Tasmania and the small islands around it, and I swear sometimes there’s ice in the waves.

It’s perfect.

The shock I feel as I duck dive under the first wave, emerging to shake my head like a dog, takes me out of whatever bad mood I might be in. I keep paddling out towards where the waves start to lift and curl before they break.