Holy hell. Was she seriously coming on to him? He’d been busting his balls all goddamn day to keep his distance. Now she was flirting with him, practically begging him to kiss her. And she wouldn’t close that last breadth of distance either. Little tease… Nope, she stared up at him with those oceanic doe-eyes, waiting for him to step off that cliff. Well, if he was going over the edge, he sure as hell wasn’t doing it alone.

Autumn did something to him he couldn’t explain any more than he could control. And the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her again. Bottom line, he didn’t trust himself with her. He wanted something from Autumn he knew damn well she wasn’t prepared to give—even if she didn’t realize it—and quite honestly, she was playing with fire.

He hadn’t expected her near-death experience to bother him as much as it did, or to evoke such an instinctively protective response, much like that morning-after fiasco they’d had over her little One and Done stunt. Sure, in that story she’d been just a kid, doing something stupid to impress some boy—and she’d nearly died because of it. Had she always been so impulsive and reckless? Considering her story now and his experience with her that first night, he’d be willing to bet the answer to that question was most assuredly yes.

Perhaps he should give her what she was asking for and scare her straight. Would she finally learn her lesson? He doubted it. This woman was thirty years old. It was unlikely she’d change now. Autumn was a complete enigma—a dichotomy of bold yet vulnerable, courageous yet uncertain, and fuck him if she didn’t play both sides of that coin like a pro. It made him wonder if Autumn Harris had any idea who she was. On the outside, she was put-together, self-assured, and maybe even a little frosty. But the more time he spent with her, the easier it was to see that beneath the surface, was a woman struggling to break free from her past, and those old demons had a tight hold on her.

He knew all about breaking free, and the courage it took to make that happen. Maybe it was for that reason he respected the hell out of her. And because of that admiration he wouldn’t—couldn’t—take advantage of her like this. But as he stood there telling himself all the reasons he needed to back away, her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, threading through the longish strands and curling them around her delicate fingers as she stared up at him with blatant desire reflecting in her eyes.

Those eyes… He could get lost in them. Who was he kidding? He could get lost in her. His chest tightened uncomfortably, a subtle ache blooming there that sent a jolt of alarm skittering through him and tamping down the lust firing through his veins. He could not get emotionally attached to this woman. Not only was she leaving in three days, but he and relationships did not mix.

His lifestyle, his career…it just wasn’t conducive to them. Unfortunately, he’d learned that lesson the hard way and it was one he didn’t care to repeat. Not to mention he was hardly ever home, traveling from one end of the world to the other for surfing competitions. Balen having the week free to spend with Autumn was pure luck. In fact, he was flying to Half Moon Bay for the Titans of Mavericks competition the day after she was scheduled to leave.

And all this castigating was a moot point anyway because Autumn had no idea who the hell he was, and if he did tell her the truth, which he had no intention of doing, he was pretty sure that would be the end of their good times pretty damn fast. Unfortunately, his reputation preceded him and Balen didn’t think it would take very long for Autumn to find out about his less than stellar choices of late. If she’d been willing to bail on him over the misunderstanding about Monica, then he was damn certain she’d be done with him over this. And maybe that made him a selfish prick. It was a role he’d been playing so long he’d lost sight of the man he once was. Regardless, Balen wasn’t ready for it to end. It didn’t matter that he knew it couldn’t go anywhere. He just wanted more time with her.

“Balen, is something wrong?”

How long had he been standing here staring at her while he waged this internal war, those gorgeous lips a few scant inches from his, just waiting for him to break and lower his head, sealing both their fates because, now that he’d had a taste, he wanted all of her.

“Can I be honest?”

“Please do.”

There was no mistaking the tension that stole over her or the note of hesitation in her voice as she untangled her fingers from his hair and slowly lowered her arms. He caught her before she could step back and looped his arms around her waist. He was glad she didn’t try to resist.

“If I kiss you, Autumn, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to stop. I know I startled you yesterday when things got…intense. And I don’t want that to happen again. So if it seems like I’m holding back, it’s because I am.”

She looked surprised by his honesty. At least he told her the truth about something, right? She certainly deserved it. Especially since there was so much else he wasn’t being upfront with her about.

“I appreciate you being honest with me, Balen. I despise lying. After what I’ve been through, it’s just not something I can forgive. Trust is difficult for me. I think you know that. And I know it doesn’t make any sense, but even though we haven’t known each other very long, I feel like I can trust you. You had the opportunity to take advantage of me the first night we met and you didn’t. When you sensed I was uncomfortable with the pace things were going yesterday, you stopped, and I have no doubt that you would do so again if I asked you to. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not worried. You don’t scare me.”

Well, at least that made one of them, because what he was feeling was scaring the ever-loving hell out of him.

* * *

“Do you come here often?”

Autumn pulled a grape off the bundle and popped it into her mouth. She lounged on the blanket across from him, lying on her side, head propped up by her hand as the sun dried all that glorious crimson hair in waves he ached to dive his hands into. She was a sight that would take any man’s breath away. She couldn’t know the control it took to sit here with her, watching the sun kiss her goosebumps when he wanted to be the one licking her flesh and melting them away.

“Not a lot.” Balen took a gulp of Merlot, wishing he had something stronger. He’d packed them a light lunch of cheese, crackers, grapes, and a bottle of wine. Needing the distraction, he diverted his attention to the scenery behind her. “Are you familiar with Greek mythology?”

“Not really.”

“You’ve heard of Aphrodite?”

Autumn nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “I think everyone’s heard of her.”

“Well, Cyprus is called the Island of Love because it’s known in Greek mythology as the birthplace of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love. This pool is called the Baths of Aphrodite. Legend says this is where the goddess would meet with her lover Adonis.”

She turned to look behind her, taking in the view. “I can certainly see why. This place is so… I don’t know, but there’s something almost magical about it.”

He chuckled. “Personally, I’d love to try surfing that waterfall.”

Autumn laughed, craning her head a little farther to follow his gaze to the twenty-foot drop. “You’d break your neck.”

“I’ve surfed waves taller than that before.” He wasn’t sure why he said that or what part of his egocentric male pride felt the need to impress her, but apparently it wasn’t done because he added, “A good wave will top out over forty feet.”

“Are you kidding? That sounds dangerous.”

He nodded. “It can be. I lost one of my best friends to a maverick last year.” The loss was still a fresh wound. At the mention of Robbie, grief reached up and gripped his heart. If he’d only listened to Balen and not gone out to the point. If Balen had only swum faster, he might have reached his friend in time. If only…

Autumn laid her hand on his and gave it a gentle squeeze, pulling his thoughts from that day and back into the present. “I’m sorry, Balen.”

Her sincerity touched him, and it was surprisingly comforting. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. He never talked about that day, about Robbie, or what happened beneath those tumultuous waves, so why was he bringing it up now? Best not to give it too much thought.

“What’s a maverick?”

Hearing her ask that question was a reality check of how different their worlds were. “It’s a place in Northern California off the shore of Pillar Point Harbor. There’s a twelve-week window during the winter months where the waves are record breaking. We call them mavericks. The last few have been El Niño years and the surfing has been some of the best I’ve ever seen. People come from all over the world to surf those waves.”

“How long have you been surfing?”

“I started when I was ten, so fifteen years.”

“Have you had any close calls yourself?”

He shrugged. “A few. I think groms are more dangerous than the waves, though.”

She smiled at the name. “What’s a grom?”

“That’s what we call an inexperienced surfer. I had some guy snake my wave last year and slam into me. We both went down and once a maverick gets ahold of you, it doesn’t want to let go. He almost drowned, and so did two other guys trying to rescue him. It was the closest I ever came to it myself. Some people have no business getting out on those waves, but you can’t tell ‘em. Everybody’s looking for that next high.”

She watched him intently, occasionally taking a sip of her wine. “Is that why you do it? Are you an adrenaline junkie, Balen Kroft?”

He laughed. “Nah. It’s a rush, I’m not going to lie. But surfing…it’s about so much more than that for me.”

“Like what?” She shifted the blanket, scooting a little closer, her focus solely fixed on him, but not in a star-struck fangirl way. She was genuinely interested in understanding him, like she cared about what he had to say. He didn’t have these kinds of conversation with women. They were more interested in hearing how many championships he’d won, or discovering if the rumors about the size of his cock were true, than caring to get to know the real him.

“For me, surfing is like touching the hand of God. It’s becoming a part of something so much bigger than yourself—mastering something you have no control over. It’s about discipline, endurance, and patience. The tides are like this living, breathing force that can carry you or crush you. The ocean is an untamable beast. It’s always had a hold on me that I can’t begin to describe.”

“You’re not scared you’ll die?”

He could see her trying to understand this obsession, and he supposed for someone who hated the water, his infatuation with it probably bordered on insanity. “I fear not living more than I fear dying.”

She nodded thoughtfully, seeming to agree, or at least understand his logic. Taking a slice of cheese and cracker, she casually asked, “What do you do for a living?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied her from across the blanket, trying to decide what to say. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he absolutely didn’t want to tell her the truth either. There was a fine line of honesty here somewhere—just like that sweet spot in a cresting wave. He just needed to find it and ride that bitch right out of this conversation. Popping a grape into his mouth, he stalled by chewing thoughtfully and then swallowed it down with another swig of wine before casually saying, “I surf.”

Her expression remained unchanged, as if she were waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, she said, “That’s it? You surf?”

She couldn’t possibly look more unimpressed. And although this was exactly the response he’d been hoping for, he’d have been lying if he said it didn’t sting his pride a little bit. “Is there something wrong with that?” It was an effort to keep the offense from his voice.

She shook her head. “No, there’s not. I was just wondering if you had a job, that’s all.”

“I do have a job.” Despite his best effort, his tone took on an edge of indignation. And he worked damn hard at it too. Just because he got paid a shit-ton of money to do something that he loved, didn’t mean it wasn’t work.

“It’s just that…” She let her thought trail, obviously not wanting to offend him, but it was a little too late for that.

“It’s just what? Finish what you were going to say.”

She laid her hand on his and brushed her thumb over his knuckles, giving it a placating squeeze like one might if they were about to give someone bad news. “You can’t go surfing through life.”

Wanna bet? He had a multi-million dollar contract, a home on the beach, and a fat bank account that begged to differ. He was tempted to tell her that, but he wanted Autumn to like him for who he was, despite her believing he was a beach-bumming vagabond surfer. And proving her wrong wasn’t worth the risk of all this blowing up in his face.

“Don’t you get tired of being poor?”

Well, that was a presumptive leap. “Money doesn’t buy happiness, Autumn.” He knew that better than anyone. She didn’t strike him as a materialistic person. Then again, maybe he was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misjudged a woman and then paid the price with his heart.

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed. “But it sure as hell makes life a lot easier sometimes.”

Spoken like someone who knew from experience. “Did you grow up poor?”

She shrugged, breaking his stare to pick at an interesting piece of lint on the blanket. “We struggled,” she admitted, finally glancing back up to meet his stare.

The idea of her being in need shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did—a lot of people struggled financially. He’d grown up so poor, he and Connor spent most of their time barefoot because their parents couldn’t afford to keep them in shoes. His first surfboard had been a dumpster salvage he’d pieced back together with duct tape. And still, looking back, those were the best times of his life.

He’d give everything he had to go back to those days, back to that little two-bedroom house three blocks from the beach—to have his parents alive, to be ten years old again with Connor tagging along behind him...

His dad always used to tell his mom, “We may be poor, but we’re rich in love.” Those were the days when Balen believed in ideals and dreams. Since then, his world had been shattered enough times the pieces were too small to put back together. It was just easier to stop believing in things like love and happy endings. He’d watched his parents’ fairytale get blown to shit seven years ago when a drunk driver slammed into their car New Year’s Eve, killing them both, and he’d lost his own faith in love with Monica’s betrayal. One thing he knew with absolute certainty, there was no stopping life’s mavericks—they always came. He’d learned a long time ago that the world was one giant riptide.

“And what about now?” he asked, ready to talk about her for a change, but she was so damn evasive. “Are you still struggling?”

Autumn’s laughter held no humor. “I’m doing okay, I guess. My divorce was expensive and ugly.”

“What do you do for a living?”

* * *

“I write greeting cards.”

Balen’s brow arched, a grin tugging at his top lip.

Why was he smiling at her? “What’s so funny? Does that surprise you?”

“A little. You don’t exactly strike me as the mushy greeting card type.”

She wanted to ask him what that type was, and why specifically he felt that she didn’t fit the bill, but then decided maybe she didn’t want to know.

“Lay one on me.”

“Excuse me?”

“A greeting card. I want to hear one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah.”

“All right.” His smile was goading, the challenging glint in those amber-flecked eyes—irresistible. “There was no way I could fit all those candles on your cake, so I just set it on fire.”

His smile widened and that sexy dimple made an appearance. “I was going to send you something sexy for your birthday, but the postman told me to take the stamp off my ass and get out of the mailbox.”

He started to chuckle and the deep throaty sound filled her with satisfaction as well as something hot and achy.

“All right. Let me hear something sappy.”

Sappy, huh…? Digging deep into her bag of bullshit, she stared deep and meaningfully into his eyes and recited one of her most popular romantic cards. “There’s a special bond between you and me, a special bond no one can see. It binds us close and keeps us strong, always reminding us where we belong. Should a tiny thread ever break, a new one will form in its wake. It will ever hold us near and fast, for a love like ours was built to last.”

She was halfway through her recitation when the playful smile on his handsome face became serious. The intensity in his eyes nearly made her forget the words to her bestselling card. The way he studied her, made Autumn feel self-conscious as she finished her poem. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable. Silence stretched between them for several heartbeats.

“Wow, Autumn…” Balen scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “That was…beautiful.”

“Yeah?” She shrugged, brushing off the compliment. “I’m completely full of shit.”

He seemed surprised by her response. “You don’t believe the things you write?”

She looked him square in the eye and told him the God’s honest truth. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t believe in love.”