Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
* * *
Herschel had gone for a long run, come back, and done a good stint on the exercise bike. He’d even, God help him, looked at some home decorating shows on HGTV and then shaken his head at the preposterous designs some people liked. He just couldn’t get excited about home décor without Mila Davenport around. And he couldn’t get her out of his head.
Finally, he got into bed with his laptop. Pretending he was just going to check the news headlines, Hersch found himself on Google, doing a search on Mila Davenport. Obviously, he already knew a little about her—she’d been a champion surfer and on the cover of a sports magazine—but there were lots of old videos of her on YouTube. He was drawn to them and clicked on one where she’d just won a big competition in Australia. He lost his breath at her amazing feats on the water, but also by how beautiful she was in interviews afterward. She was so natural, so glorious and free. Fearless was the word that kept coming to his mind. She gave a big but humble smile as she received her medal and some pretty hefty prize money.
He watched another video, utterly entranced by the way she moved in harmony with the ocean. He even forgot for a moment how much he hated the damn water.
From the moment he’d met her, he’d found Mila gorgeous and sexy, but oddly, he found her more appealing now than he would have found her younger self. This more mature version was intriguing to him, and the fact that she’d gone through something difficult and triumphed only intensified her allure in his eyes. Yes, she’d been a goddess riding those waves, and maybe her smile wasn’t quite as carefree, and she didn’t look out at the world with the certainty she once had, but he thought her twisted path made her more interesting and probably more compassionate.
Sexy thoughts clouded his mind as she told an interviewer about her amazing ride, until his attention was suddenly brought back to the screen as right on camera, a guy, obviously another surfer, confidently strode toward Mila and gave her a huge kiss. He was over-muscled in a really show-offy way, and if that blond, streaky hair was natural, Herschel would shave off his own moustache and eat it.
In fact, Hersch felt his right hand clench into a fist. He wanted to punch the guy’s lights out. He watched, glued to the scene and unable to look away, like it was a car crash. The surfer dude made sure that the minute he’d finished that inappropriate on-camera kiss, he kept the attention on himself by slinging an arm around Mila and turning to face the interviewer. He was stealing Mila’s thunder, and Hersch hated it. What a jerk. No one should ever eclipse Mila like that.
Finally, he flipped to the next YouTube video, and there he encountered the story about her injury. He couldn’t help but watch the ride. It looked terrifying—the massive wave curling over her, the way she stood on the board as though she owned the waves, ruled the ocean. The sky behind her was a perfect blue, the sun a blazing orb that made a dazzling spectacle of her long blonde hair. Her body was so confident, so strong, and yet lithe and supple. Her strength was incredible. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the wave turned on her, huge and roaring, curling in a way that made him sick to his stomach, and she succumbed to its power and size. He felt physically ill watching her body swallowed whole by that wave, her board tossed into the air above her and then disappearing too. He was glued to the screen, watching in what felt like slow motion for her body to reappear, but it never did. The announcer, who had been going on about her perfect form and the great ride and relaying some of her stats, gasped, and then his voice changed as he relayed the fall. The camera moved away from the ocean and followed a medical team as they rushed from the beach to her aid. They, too, seemed so small and helpless against the backdrop of another huge wave that loomed in the background.
Hersch held his breath. Although he knew that she’d come through this accident and was alive and well, he couldn’t help but fear for her safety. From what he could understand, the wave had taken her off course and slammed her onto a reef on her back, and she was left floundering, unable to swim back to shore.
Nausea struck Hersch so suddenly he put his head between his knees. His body began to shake as the memory of being swept out into the ocean took over. He practiced the deep-breathing techniques the medics had taught him. In through the nose, out through the mouth.