Free Riptide by Lindsey Scheibe Page A

of her butt? Really?
    Then she grunts and I hear her unzip her suit by herself.
    I peek around. She flinches, and it drives me nuts she’s not letting me help her. That dude really knocked her around. I kind of hope Damien needs to provide a little extra persuasion to get him to leave. Never thought I’d be on the same side as him.
    The lifeguard lets out a low whistle. “That’s one hell of a bruise. The cut’s not too bad. At least you don’t need any stitches.”
    I half turn and take a look. Damn. How’d she get the bruise? The lifeguard digs around in her first aid kit, then blocks my view with her body. Her arm is moving like she’s wiping the cut. Grace doesn’t make a sound.
    Then the lifeguard pulls out a bandage.
    I give Grace a thumbs-up. She bestows a tiny half smile.
    The lifeguard applies the bandage. Then she says, “Wait a bit to make sure your cut isn’t bleeding before you get back in the water. And take care of yourself. I’d say you’ve got enough injuries for the week.”
    Grace nods, cheeks red.
    The lifeguard looks at Grace and then at me—hard—like I had something to do with the jerk-off running over her. She says, “You’re sure you’re okay?”
    “Yeah,” Grace says.
    The lifeguard shrugs. “Take care of yourself.”
    I put my arm around Grace. “Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”
    We walk over to the boards. Grace bends toward her board. I make a quick block.
    She puts her hands on her hips. “I got a little cut on my butt, not my arms.”
    “You get five points for rhyming but that’s not enough for me to allow you to carry your board, ma’am.”
    She raises a brow. “Cheap points.”
    “Cheap rhyme.” I wink. “Take a load off. Those waves aren’t going down anytime soon.”
    I take her hand, an electric moment, and pull her over to a beach towel. We plop down.
    I say, “How’d you get the bruise on the top of your butt?”
    She frowns. “How about respecting a girl’s privacy? You weren’t supposed to look.”
    “Temptation won.”
    She digs her toes in the sand, classic Grace. “I fall on my surfboard all the time, detective.”
    I tug her ponytail. “Well, maybe you need to be more careful, Womanista.”
    She shrugs and stares at the ocean. I watch her, waiting. Then she looks at me and smiles like nothing bad happened today. “Let’s grab a snow cone—it’s on my dad.” She looks so cute as she holds her hand out for mine. I let her pull me up and we run over to the snow cone stand.
    Thirty minutes later, we’re in the party line. The guys give Grace mad props for coming back out.
    Buzzy whistles. Then he says, “You really get sliced?”
    I say, “Is the Pope Catholic? Yeah, she did.”
    Grace laughs.
    “Girl, you’re boss .” Damien says. He puffs his chest and surveys the ocean. “Whatever wave you want … it’s yours. You cherry-pick it.”
    Some other guys pipe in with “Hell yeah.” Grace eats it up. And I love that everyone is being cool. Although I hate that Damien comes off as her protector. You’d think he owned the Pacific. I have no problem helping Mr. Parker keep guys like him away from Grace. In fact, I’d say it was in everyone’s best interest. I’m starting to see the good side of making a deal with Mr. Parker. Grace needs someone to field guys for her.

     
    After driving around aimlessly for about an hour after dinner, I finally pull into an empty parking lot by Black’s Beach. Between the stress of watching out for Grace and wondering what I can do to help Little Hien, I’m scrambled.
    Esmerelda’s engine cuts out with a rattle and a hum when I shut her down. I jump out of the cab and get set up in the bed of the truck. I wad a beach towel into a ball, and lie back on it. There are hundreds of stars out tonight. Twinkling. Sometimes I come out here and talk to PoPo, Ma’s Papi , but tonight I need to talk to someone I haven’t talked to in a long time. Jorge.
    It never felt weird talking to PoPo. But