“There is nothing going on between me and Cooper,” I said through gritted teeth. Then, taking a long, calming breath, I walked over to the counter, leaned my elbows on the smooth boards, and asked “Where is Cooper anyway?”
Eric scratched the back of his head and yawned. “He’s a glutton for punishment. He’s out on the beach because he swears it de-stresses him.” He bent down close to me as if to share a secret. “And believe me, you stress the hell out of him.”
“Thanks for the heads up. Good luck with your . . . bitch duties.”
He sighed. “It’s not an easy job, but somebody’s got to.”
Shaking my head, I left Eric standing there grinning like an idiot. I went out to Cooper’s backyard, the way we’d gone out the day before. He was wadding toward the shore, his golden hair wet and clinging to his forehead, his board tucked between his arm and body, his expression relaxed.
The moment he saw me, though, that look immediately changed to a cocky half-smile, then surprise when his eyes dragged over the black halter top of my swimsuit. He gave me a little wave. I pressed my fist to my mouth to hide my smile and steadied myself against the outside of the deck for a moment. Then, I slowly sauntered down the beach toward him.
He met me halfway.
“Trying to get out of work by looking like that?” he asked.
“Oh, please. It’ll take a lot more than a two-piece to convince you to go easy on me.”
“Mmmm, good point, Wills. I will never, ever go easy on you.”
My body heat jumped, but I radiated perfect confidence as I stepped out of my yellow shorts and shoes. I tossed them in a pile a few feet from my board, which he must have brought out with him earlier.
“How will you torture my ass today, Boss?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Didn’t take you for that kind of actress, Wills.”
My torture turned out to be the same as yesterday, but I was determined to show him I could handle his training. I spent the next hour and a half working on my form and asking him questions about his history as we worked.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I was six so sixteen—almost seventeen—years,” he responded. He stood in front of me, tilted his head to the side, and then motioned for me to move my left foot back a little. I slid it back on the smooth surface of my purple and white board until he held up his hands for me to stop.
“How many competitions have you won?”
He pretended to think and then he asked, “How many movies have you starred in?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Too many to count.”
“Well there you have it.” He walked in a circle, examining me, and let out an annoyed sigh before coming up behind me. Placing his left hand on my hip, he touched the inside of my right thigh, moving it forward. My mouth flooded with moisture as I glimpsed down at his fingertips gliding across my bare skin. “There, perfect. Now, bend your knees.” I didn’t miss the hitch in his voice, or the way his touch on my skin felt too gentle, too lingering, for someone tasked with teaching me.
I thought of the way his hands and mouth had felt on mine that night in my living room, and I traced the tip of my tongue over my lips, dampening them, before I cleared my throat. “So why’d you move from Australia?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, which was slightly chafed from spending so much time in the sun. “Show me everything you learned, starting with getting up off your board.”
This was the first question of mine he’d ignored, so naturally, I wanted him to answer it. “If you tell me about Australia.”
“Why? Planning a visit?”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe.”
“Just . . .” He dragged his hands through his hair, a look of frustration suddenly clouding his features. “Go through the f**king basics, Wills.” The last few words were clipped and every muscle in my body went tense.
This was a different side of Cooper—a vulnerable side—and to my mortification, I realized I was kind of turned on by it. Maybe I was more masochistic and screwed up than I originally believed myself to be, but if this is what he felt when he tried to fluster me, no wonder he did it.
Keeping my eyes locked with his, I showed him everything he’d taught me over the last couple days. I lay down on my stomach, keeping my toes at the edge of the board, and then popped up, centering my feet expertly in the middle of the board.
Tilting my face up at him, I smiled despite the painful burn in my arms and ass. “Now, why’d you leave Australia?” I demanded. I stepped off the board and crossed my arms over my chest, shaking the soreness out of my legs.
“My parents divorced when I was twelve,” he said with a little shrug. “My mum was from America so . . .”
“You moved here,” I completed and he nodded. “I bet she knows how many competitions you’ve won,” I added. My mom might not pick me up from rehab, but she could easily tell you my first movie, the last, and every role in between.
But when Cooper looked up, and I got a good look at his face, I felt a lurch in my chest that had nothing to do with attraction or my own personal shame. His expression was blank and I already knew what he was going to say before the first word was spoken.
“She died when I was seventeen, Wills.”
“Oh,” I whispered. I lowered my gaze to the sand, digging my foot into it. I’d spent so much time being around other people— being other people—and I still didn’t know what to say when facing someone’s loss. “Cooper . . . I’m so sorry.”