Fighting for Love(6)

By: L.P. Dover



Garrett nodded and opened his car door. “Will do. I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.”

After starting his car, he sped out of the driveway and was gone. It was close to the end of week, and once the fight this weekend was over I’d begin another hectic schedule of training and preparing for another fight. I worked hard for what I had, and as soon as I earned my first real paycheck I did buy things that I never dreamt I could acquire.

I had a five bedroom house with a total of fourteen rooms altogether, including my own movie theater. There were two swimming pools, one outside and one in, with a swim up bar that I had fully stocked when I threw my parties. My five car garage housed all of my toys, ranging from my Ducati 1198 on up to my Aston Martin DBS.

However, nothing could outshine the first car I ever bought; it was a 1977 electric blue, Ford Bronco Ranger convertible. I had a lot of good memories in that car, but there was one memory that no matter how hard I tried I could never forget. It was the reason I fought so hard to become what I was today. I had everything I could ever want, but of course, money couldn’t buy you everything. There was something missing, and it had been for over ten years.





TAKING THE DAY OFF FROM work was the best thing I could have done for myself. I had never felt so refreshed in my life. It just so happened that Caleb was free for the day, so when I texted him about meeting me at the beach he immediately replied back with a yes.

I might as well give the guy a chance, I thought to myself. What did I have to lose?

When I got home, I found a note from Jace on the kitchen counter saying he had an audition for a lead role in some kind of romance film that would be filmed in North Carolina. He’s landed some good roles in the past, but never a lead part. I hope he gets it.

After I changed into my new pink and black bikini, a pair of denim shorts, and my favorite hot pink tank top, I was ready to go. My bag was packed with towels and magazines just in case my time with Caleb turned out to be not as fantastic as the night before when we were both feeling the love from the alcohol. Being around someone sober was way different than being tipsy.

Since I didn’t live far from the beach I usually just walked, and thankfully, by the time my toes sunk into the cold, gritty sand, the sun finally decided to clear away from the thin layer of clouds and beam down on me. It was a perfect June day; usually it was foggy at this time of year, but for some reason the sun decided to show its lovely face and put some color to my skin.

Laying two towels on the sand, I dropped my bag down on one since the wind would probably blow it away if I didn’t, and sat down on the other. East Beach wasn’t exactly the ideal place you’d come to swim because of the brutal riptide currents and the fear of drowning, but it was absolutely one of the most beautiful beaches around. There also weren’t a lot of tourists at this time of year, which was perfect for me because I never liked crowded beaches to begin with. However, I did love to watch the surfers, and I was determined to write one of my ten page spreads on one of our famous locals, Logan Calder. He was amazing out there on the waves.

I wasn’t the one who made the decisions as far as who got picked for the articles, but the next pitch to my boss would definitely be to recommend Logan. He was already out there on the water paddling around on his board with a couple of other guys that were almost as good as him … almost.

“Surfers, huh?” a voice called out behind me. “I might as well turn around now because I know I can’t compete with that.”

Immediately, I recognized the sound of that deep, husky voice; it was Caleb.

Snickering, I glanced over my shoulder and taunted back, “Hey, I can’t help it that I like surfers. Why don’t you get out there and see if they’ll give you lessons?” Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a white button-down shirt that hung open to reveal a perfectly nice set of chiseled abs, Caleb strolled toward me with a huge grin on his face.

Chuckling, he sat down on the towel beside me once I moved my bag out of the way. “Screw that,” he exclaimed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the ocean and all, but me trying to balance my weight on a board in that type of rough water? Not happening. You’ll probably take pictures and put them in your magazine.”

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