“Balen called again.”

“You didn’t answer it, did you?”

“No,” Summer sighed, flopping on the couch beside her. “But you should.”

No, thanks.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t talk to him.”

No, Summer didn’t understand, and that was partially Autumn’s fault for not explaining it to her. But it hurt too much to talk about, and what was the point? It wasn’t going to change anything. There was nothing her friend could say or do to lessen the gnawing pain in her chest. It had been so much easier to hold onto the anger, but as the days passed, the emotion faded to heartbreak and that was much harder to endure. She had fallen in love with a man that didn’t exist, and it didn’t matter how many times she told herself this, it didn’t make those feelings any less real.

That week she’d spent with Balen—his fantasy—his lie—had been her reality, and she’d lost her heart to the homeless, beach-bumming surfer. How could she ever get over that? Despite Summer’s misconceptions, she wasn’t avoiding Balen’s calls to be spiteful or mean. There honestly wasn’t anything he could say to make things better, because as much as he wanted to apologize, or try to explain and rationalize his actions, when it was all said and done, he was still a womanizing playboy riding the high of a surfing career that made him millions.

He’d never walk away from that kind of a life, and she didn’t belong in that world. There was no future for them. Even she could see that. As hurtful as it might have been, she’d meant every word when she’d told him that if she’d known the truth about who he really was, she never would have gotten involved with him.

“It’s obvious you love him, Autumn. I mean, look at you. You’re a wreck.”

Yes, she did love him, but that wasn’t the point. She’d loved Alex too once, and look how well that turned out for her. She’d learned a long time ago that love did not conquer all. Clinging to fanatical idealisms would only give her false hope for a future that was never meant to be.

“That’s it. You need an intervention.”

“A what?”

“An intervention. As your best friend, I cannot continue to sit by and watch you do this to yourself. You’re miserable, Autumn. And you’re too damn stubborn to see that you’re in your own way. Come on.” Summer hopped off the couch and grabbed Autumn’s arm, hauling her to her feet. For a little thing, she sure was stronger than she looked.

“Stop it, Summer. What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you out.”

“Where?”

“To the spa. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks. One of the things I’ve always loved about you is your uncanny ability to make me feel good about myself.”

“And I’ve always loved how your sarcasm sounds so sincere. Come on.” Summer planted her palms on Autumn’s back and herded her toward the bathroom. “You smell like Doritos and cheap wine. Besides, I’m a firm believer that if you look great on the outside, you can’t help but feel good on the inside.”

Autumn reluctantly dragged herself down the hall. There was no point in putting up a fuss. When Summer was like this, she was a force to be reckoned with, and honestly, Autumn didn’t have the energy to take her on.

“Take a shower and we’ll go get mani/pedis and Brazilian waxes—my treat. Nothing says makeover like a bare snatch. It’s like wiping the slate clean.”

Autumn rolled her eyes. If only it were that easy. But before she could comment that bald was not always beautiful, and she’d prefer to keep her fire strip right where it was, thank you very much, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Summer volunteered, bounding back down the hall.

Autumn was about to close the bathroom door when she heard Summer snap, “What the hell do you want?”

The response was muffled, but the husky voice was definitely masculine. Curiosity had her backtracking to the living room and she was surprised to find her neighbor standing in the hall with a brown paper-wrapped package in his hands.

“Like I said,” Cullen repeated with exaggerated patience. “I was grabbing my mail and the carrier couldn’t fit this into your box.”

“I see. So now you’re Mr. Helpful. A week ago, you leave me outside to freeze to death. Then you attack me. And now you’re delivering the mail?”

His top lip twitched, not quite pulling off a smile. The man’s dark brow arched in wry amusement, his silvery-blue eyes making a bold head-to-toe sweep of her feisty friend. No doubt about it, Cullen Morarity was a gorgeous man. If Summer was fazed by his dangerously handsome good looks, she’d never let it show. There were many things she loved about Summer, but that girl wasn’t without her flaws—one being that if you got on her shit-list, it wasn’t easy getting off it. If Cullen had a thing for Summer, he certainly had his work cut out for him.

“Look, do you want the package or not? Because I have better things to do than stand in the hallway getting dressed down by some self-righteous midge—”

“Midge?!”

Oh, boy…here we go. That was just about the worst thing he could have called her. Summer was super sensitive about her height. At barely over five-foot, she’d been teased about being small all her life. But what she lacked in stature, she more than made up for in spitfire.

“Listen, Rambo—”

Cullen busted out laughing, the throaty masculine sound echoing through their apartment.

“What the hell is so funny?” Summer demanded.

The guy shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he was standing here having this conversation. “Lady, you have no idea. Just take the damn package, Smalls.” Cullen shoved the box at her and turned, heading down the hall. His door slammed so hard the pictures on Autumn’s wall shook. Summer seconded the bang and spun around to find Autumn watching her with amusement.

“What?” she grumbled, coming over to set the package on the end table.

“You don’t think you’re being just a little hard on the guy? I mean, he did drop off a package. He was just being nice.”

“Ha! Cullen Morarity is not nice! Did you forget he almost shot me?”

“Did you forget you were breaking into his apartment?”

“By accident, Autumn.” Summer rolled her eyes and huffed. “We’ve been over this.”

“All right.” Autumn held up her hands in surrender. “I’m just sayin’, you guys got off on the wrong foot. And if you’re going to be living here for the next six months, it might not be a bad idea to try to make nice with our new neighbor. That’s all.”

“He called me short!”

“Honey, you are short. Accept it. Embrace it. Own it.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said when they wouldn’t let me on the cheerleading team in high-school. That’s also what you said when I was nearly trampled at the pep-rally both junior and senior year.”

“You want to know what I think? I think you like Cullen.”

Summer looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “You’re way off base, Autumn. Seriously, I thought you knew me better than that. Cullen Morarity is the opposite of my type.”

Which might be exactly what Summer needed—someone to give her a run for her money. Her friend was used to men falling at her feet, treating her like a princess until she grew tired of them and moved onto the next unsuspecting chump. It’d be interesting to see how she handled someone like their surly next door neighbor, someone who didn’t seem keen on putting her on a pedestal.

“Cullen and me? Not happening.” She set the package on the table. “Come on. Let’s get going.” She grabbed Autumn’s hand and tugged her toward the door, the aromatic Doritos and cheap wine forgotten. “Time to get beautiful, Beautiful.”

* * *

“Welcome to the Titans of Mavericks International Surfing Competition!”

Balen stopped waxing his board long enough to throw back the last of his Captain Coke and set the glass on the table as the MC officially kicked off the competition.

“You about done? The competition is going to start. Probably shouldn’t be drinking.”

Connor was right, but it was the only thing that could dull the pain in his chest that was making him feel like he was having a heart attack. Balen canted his head and fixed a hard stare on his brother. The waves crashed behind him, sending sprays of salty water high into the air. The mist cooled the humidity, lifting some of the oppressive heat bearing down on him. No question, the mavericks were angry. But that was okay, their mood matched his own surly temper and he welcomed their wrath. As the water beat against the rocks, Balen waited for that familiar rush of adrenaline to flood his veins, the thrum of anticipation that always got his heart pumping.

But the call of the wave didn’t come. Maybe that was because the ocean no longer owned him, an alarming realization that had robbed him of many a night’s sleep. No, that honor now belonged to Autumn Harris. She possessed him—heart and soul—and there was no point denying it or wasting any more time hoping things were different. That woman was his surf and he could only pray to God she didn’t pull him under, because he’d created one hellacious riptide and he was going to have to swim like hell to get out of it.

Damn, how had something that started out so innocent turn into such a clusterfuck? This question and many more plagued him during what had become the longest week of his damn life. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to follow Autumn to Montana and bang her door down until she agreed to talk to him.

But he knew Autumn. She might have disagreed, but he did, and she needed some time to cool down and get over the anger she had every right to be feeling toward him. And as much as it’d sucked, he’d needed to do some re-evaluation and soul-searching himself. In his journey of self-awareness, Balen had come to some painful realizations and it wasn’t without careful consideration he was prepared to make some life-altering decisions that would probably not be very popular with Bradford or his sponsors.

But first and foremost, Balen knew he needed to tell Autumn the truth and prove to her that she was the most important thing in his life, and then—if he was lucky—she would find it in her heart to give him a second chance to win it back.