Free Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) by GJ Walker-Smith Page A

going to need medical attention at some point.
    He barely looked up as I got to the door. As a precautionary measure, I went no further than the doorway.
    “Adam,” he said ominously. “Gabs is still in bed. It’s early.”
    It was freakishly early, barely after seven. And if she was still in bed, I was on my own.
    “I’ll come back later then.” I replied, making no attempt to leave.
    Alex continued scrubbing a block of wax across his surfboard, which was laid out on the workbench. “When did you get here?” he asked.
    “Last night.”
    “I knew you’d show up sooner or later,” he said. “I was just hoping it would be later – when she’d come to her senses and forgotten your name.”
    His attitude was nothing less than I expected or deserved. I wasn’t even going to try defending myself.
    “Are you going to try talking Charli into going back to New York?” he asked. “Is that why you’re here?”
    “No. I wouldn’t do that. I have a couple of weeks off. I just wanted to see her.”
    Alex didn’t reply. In fact he didn’t say anything. I almost wished he’d just thump me and get it over with.
    “What do you know about surfing, Adam?” he asked finally.
    “Not a whole lot.”
    He glanced up at me and smiled – and not in a good way. “Maybe it’s time you learned.”
    “I’ve seen the size of the waves this morning,” I replied. “I came here for coffee, not a near death experience.”
    “Relax, Boy Wonder,” he taunted. “I won’t let you die.”
    Nothing about him sounded believable.
    Abandoning the board, he grabbed one of the wetsuits hanging from the rack behind him and thrust it at me. “How tall are you?” he asked sizing me up with his eyes.
    “Six, two.”
    He turned to the wall and grabbed a board. The thing was huge – at least eight foot.
    “I know it looks big but it’ll float,” he explained. “Even if you don’t.” He followed up with another evil smile.
    “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came here.”
    “I know that, Adam. But things don’t always work out as you plan, do they?”
    * * *
    We left my car at the house and took Alex’s ute. At least I’d left evidence of my last known whereabouts. We ended up at the beach below the cottage. We were the only ones there. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. Alex had hardly said two words since we’d left the house. I didn’t know if that was good or bad either. He became a little chattier when he hit the sand, but only to bark instructions.
    “This is a long board,” he said pointing at it. “That means you can’t cut through a wave. If you think you’re going to have trouble getting over it, turtle roll.”
    He’d already lost me and he knew it. “Grab the rails and flip it over,” he elaborated.
    “The rails?” The man was speaking a different language.
    “The edges.”
    “Okay.”
    “Paddle straight into it. If you approach at an angle, you’re going to roll. Rolling is bad. Stay perpendicular to the oncoming wave, then turtle roll if you need to.”
    “You just said rolling was bad.”
    “Rolling is bad.”
    Unless there’s a turtle involved . This was going to end in tragedy, but I figured he knew that already.
    “What happens if I wipe out?”
    He dropped his head and laughed blackly. “Oh, you’re going to get massacred, Adam. No doubt about it.”
    “Great.” I drew out the word. “Any advice that will keep me alive would be appreciated.”
    He looked pensively out to sea. “If you wipe out, relax and let yourself sink. Waves are powerful, but they don’t have nearly as much pull below the surface. Just let yourself sink and you’ll pass safely underneath it.”
    I glared at him, horrified. “This is what you do for fun?”
    He turned his head, looking straight at me. “Every day of my life.”
    The instructions didn’t stop once we were in the water. Somehow I managed to paddle out past the breaking waves. Alex was already there, sitting on his board,