Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Chad’s ass barely had time to hit the sand before Kai caught his next wave, making Chad’s ride look like child’s play. The surfer knew his way around a wave. Of course, Kai showed up, coming through the wave to hit the lip, executing a perfect three-sixty rodeo flip. His spin was so fast that Kai could have easily done a second one before the board hit the wave again.
The showman didn’t end his run there. Kai played the wave like a musician playing an instrument, easily gliding through several well executed turns, creating soaring sprays behind each pivot. Where Chad had let the wave dictate his balance and moves, Kai owned the water, slaying it to his every advantage.
Kai rode the board like a chariot all the way to the shore until he chose to step off. The hoots and hollers from everyone on the beach rivaled that of a local high school football game. Kai’s groupie-style following went insane.
Chad found himself wrapped up in it too, although he stayed put, his toes digging into the warm sand. The ebbing adrenaline left him comfortable, content, if not exhausted from the lack of sleep since he’d arrived. He gave his friend one of his loudest whistles, the kind he'd been told pierced a person’s brain, before he fell back on the sand, closing his eyes against the bright sun and enjoying the warmth on his skin as he contemplated his choices.
If this was how Kai could perform in his time off, then yes, Tristan needed Kai to headline Wilder Sports, but Chad couldn’t imagine what this sponsorship was going to cost his stepfather.
Chad jackknifed up, realizing he hadn’t videoed a single moment of the last forty-eight hours. With all these people on the beach, surely someone had. He’d work that out at the bar later tonight where lots of these fans followed Kai’s every move.
Chad dropped back on the sand, wondering how he’d ever let life get him down when places like this existed in the world.
CHAPTER 3
For Ducky, there wasn’t much better than the welcoming solitude of his apartment. He kicked the front door closed harder than he’d intended but not near loud enough to provoke his upstairs neighbor to beat her broom against his ceiling, but there it was. His neighbor, an older woman who lived alone, had been up there beating on her floor since he and Dallas had first moved in. He decided the banging must be more greeting than anything else.
“Hi, Mrs. Henson,” he called out, louder than the sound of the slamming door, to make sure he was heard.
The knocking came again. She was like the mother hen he’d never really wanted, looking out for him all the time since Dallas had moved out.
He dropped his apartment key on the counter and went for the refrigerator where his chef had left a gourmet meal prepared for him. They were currently trying to bulk him up. His trainer worked alongside his chef to get the right meal ingredients down to help enhance his changing body. A prototype of a program StreamTrainer hoped to add to their list of services next year. Tonight’s dinner contained salmon, quinoa, and asparagus in a bowl. Avocado slices and edamame waited to be added. He read the heating instructions and let the quiet of his apartment ease some of the burden of the day.
Work was too busy. Even as he thought the words, the ache in his neck and back caused him to roll his shoulders. As much as he hated to admit it, he probably did need some help—an assistant trained in information technology. Dallas had an assistant, so did Skye. Both worked hard but didn’t carry the load Ducky did. Trusting someone to have the company’s best interest at heart had been his main issue. But at this point, Ducky couldn’t monitor everything by himself.
A knock on the door had Ducky looking in that direction as if he could see who was there. He then glanced at the time, a little past nine. It better not be Greer wanting to get in a quick workout. He’d had to hang up on a jovial Greer and his brother who’d FaceTimed him after hearing about the haircut. He grabbed the bowl, dumped the avocado and edamame inside, and took the utensils, forgoing the warming, and dug in as he went for the door.
Chomping on a big bite from the bowl, he leaned in to look out the peephole. His neighbor stood on the other side, balancing a couple of dishes. With his fork in hand, he opened the door, her glare riveted to his freshly cut hair.
“I didn’t think it was you,” she said by way of greeting.
“Come in, Mrs. Henson.” He stepped back, opening the door wide. She barely budged an inch.