Riding His Longboard - Sienna Blake Page 0,4

about you. We haven’t seen you in what, two months?”

“Three,” Rhys supplied.

“Three long months since you took that winter surfing trip to Indonesia,” he said, then took a long pull of his beer.

I’d spent July, August and September—the winter months in Australia—thousands of kilometers and a few seas away, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Thankfully, I was saved from Heath’s nosy questions when a hot redhead in a tank top came by our table.

“It is you,” she said in a throaty voice and a giggle that made her breasts bounce around in her tiny little top. I tried to look her in the face, but my eyes kept drifting to her cleavage. She didn’t seem offended. “I’d know that face anywhere. You’ve been staring at me all day.”

“I’m sorry?” I choked out, inhaling a little of my beer in surprise.

“Staring at me from the Gossip Today website. You’re on the front page. Are you really dating Rihanna?” she said, leaning over until I could see the edge of a tattoo that must have encircled her nipple.

“Uh, no. No, I’m not,” I said, thinking that this would be the type of woman I would have brought home for a one-night stand a few months ago—hot, ready and looking for nothing more than a good lay. “I’m actually taking time off from dating for a while. But Simon up there at the bar says he is looking for love and he is especially interested in redheads.”

What I said was true, but Simon was only into redheaded men. I figured by the time she figured that out, I’d probably already be home in bed. I started to make a joke about how I’d owe Simon one for taking the lady off my hands, but Heath was straight back on topic.

“After Indonesia, you come home, you’re cranky, you can’t surf for shit, and, boom, you suddenly have a baby? Do you mind filling in the details?”

Damn. I wanted to tell Heath to shove off, but all I saw in his brown eyes was concern. I knew he wouldn’t care if I was a terrible surfer and came home with twins, he just wanted me to be happy.

“I don’t really want to talk about…” I started.

“Another pitcher,” Pam said as she expertly shoved a plastic pitcher half the length of the table and into Rhys’s waiting grip. She’d been waiting tables here since before I was old enough to drink and had never missed a shift as far as I knew.

“We didn’t order this,” I said.

“I know. That table of giggling women did,” Pam said and pointed to a table of forty-somethings drinking pink drinks and wiggling their fingers at us. “I’d normally make you pick it up from the bar yourself, but they gave me a 200 percent tip. They said they’d make it 400 percent if I could talk you into autographing one of their boobs.”

“Sounds like a good bargain. Will both boobs get you 600 percent?” Rhys asked her with a grin.

“I’ll tip you 600 percent if you tell them I’m unavailable,” I said before groaning and hiding my face in my hands.

“I remember when you used to be fun,” Pam snarked as she put down a pitcher and some nachos in front of a group of drunk men next to us.

“So do I,” I grumbled under my breath, then turned back to my mates. “I just can’t talk about it yet. Indonesia was…bad. Really bad. One of these days I will totally lose my shit over it and need to curl into a ball and tell you all about it, but I don’t have that luxury right now. Now I’ve got to focus on my career and…”

Before I could finish that thought, a blonde I knew from Perth crossed the bar, well, more like shimmied across the bar, in a tiny black dress and shoes that were so high, even I knew they were called “fuck me pumps.” Rhys and Heath stared at her open-mouthed when she came up to our table and sat in my lap. Not the usual way of butt-first, but instead straddling me, her little dress riding up on her hips as she lowered herself right over my cock, which quickly tried to escape my zipper.

“Hi, Joel. Long time no see,” she whispered in my ear before giving me a long, slow kiss on the mouth. “I wondered if you’d be here. I’m just in town for the night and I thought you could