Forbidden Depths

Chapter 4: Buzzkill

(Asher's POV)

If you had told Asher Aquino that when he walked into Charm Bar, he'd spot a woman who made his heart skip a beat, he would've said to lay off the tequila. But here he was, standing on the opposite side of the table from a woman with eyes like honey and who moved with the grace of a gazelle with legs to match hiding under her long black dress.

Growing up near the ocean, and never being more than a bicycle ride away from it, he'd seen a lot of attractive women, and to be fair, men as well. Yet there was something about the way this woman took up the pool cue and hit a beautiful break reeled him in.

Which was funny because she wasn't his type. He dated super tan surfers who popped bubblegum and had that 'mermaid' vibe. She didn't have much of a tan, and she looked like she'd never seen a surfboard in her life, much less caught a wave before.

Yet…

His feet had him at the pool table and his hands held a pool cue before he even knew what happened.

“I guess that makes me solids." The handsome dark-haired man, still dressed in his surfing rashguard from his last private lesson, just said the cheesiest line he'd ever said.

Barlow, the bartender, and his good friend just snorted at his lame pick-up line.

When she looked up at him, and their eyes locked, caramel into evergreen, his breath hitched. Something deep within Asher's chest broke and trickled open, warming him even though he wasn't cold before.

“Yeah, I guess it does." Her alto voice lilted over the table at him like waves at low tide.

It wasn't just one feature that drew him in, though he liked her round, expressive eyes, it was…her attitude. Her demeanor?

His ex, Eva, was arguably the more conventionally 'hot' stereotype. He knew that she still held his broken heart in the palm of his hand despite breaking it by ending their relationship six months ago.

However, she was just some tourist, and he was bored of only talking to Barlow or the other surf instructor, Orlando, every night.

So, why not have some fun?

The mystery woman with freckles like stars swooped around the table to line up another shot. Asher didn't see how she'd make it, but she banked the white ball off the table and sunk another stripe.

“Oh man, I'm in trouble," the green-eyed man chuckled, raking a hand through his hair.

He had played pool before, sure, but he knew that she could probably hit every striped ball into a hole before he'd get a turn.

“How so?" She looked up at him through her eyelashes. Was she trying to be coy with him?

“You're obviously a pool shark, and me being a surfer…well, you're gonna eat me alive." Asher grinned, chuckling a bit without even meaning to.

The blonde-haired woman blinked as if snapping out of a trance and backed away from the table. Oddly, he sort of wished she was more of a redhead even though he usually went for blondes.

But now he feared he said the wrong thing because she looked down at the floor.

“I'll go easy. Here, take a shot." Her voice got a bit quieter and dimmed, sounding bummed out and defeated.

A flame flickered to life in his chest.

“What? No, that's not what I meant. You're good at this, really good. Show me everything. I don't care if I don't get a chance at all," Asher explained, urging her with his hands to line up another shot.

Her expressive caramel eyes snapped back to his, and that warm feeling tingled in his chest again.

“Oh, well then…you asked for it." The spark ignited back in her honey eyes, and an easy smirk slid across his face.

“Damn straight I did," he replied, watching her go to her tiptoes and sit on the pool table.

The long-legged tourist slid the pool cue behind her back for one of those sexy behind-the-back shots. So, she was a bit of a show-off, huh? Usually, that wasn't his vibe, but tonight, it sent a trickle of warmth down to his groin.

She primed the cue a few times, and the way the white ball sounded hitting the blue stripe ball into the far corner pocket made him smile.

“Yes, so don't blame me, you brought this upon yourself." The mysterious blonde woman smiled.

The green-eyed surfer whistled long and low, god, this woman's dazzling smile could stop traffic.

Oh yeah, he was in trouble.

She lined up another shot and the white ball ricocheted off a stripe and went to the middle of the table.

“Your turn." She grinned.

He looked at the table for the ball he'd least embarrass himself to hit into the pocket. Luckily for him, the green ball was sitting right in front of the side pocket.

Asher leaned over and lined up what he thought was a good shot.

“Okay, Annie Oakley, watch this." He winked and adjusted, pulled back, and let it rip.

With a loud c***k, the green ball went in, but so did the white ball.

She laughed, an easy, bubbly laugh that he'd like to hear again.

“Good try, but you just used too much power," she explained, getting the white ball out of the pocket.

“You're trying to tell me I'm too strong?" Asher flexed for fun.

He didn't lift heavy at the gym every day like Orlando did, but he hoped his 'gun show' wouldn't disappoint her.

Wait, since when did he care if he impressed her? She was just some tourist! Hell, her boyfriend was probably going to rock up any minute and try to punch his lights out for flirting with her.

“You're strong enough…" her rich alto voice trailed off, “but you don't use your full strength doing…whatever you do for a hobby all the time, right?" She winked back at him, and his heart stopped in his chest.

“Surf. Well, I'm not just a hobbyist, I'm an instructor and lifeguard" he clarified, knowing that just saying those words usually turned women into puddles around him.

“Oh, with your outfit I was hoping scuba," she said, lining up a shot and sinking it.

“Scuba? Nah, I'm way cooler than a play-pretend astronaut who just swims around underwater." Asher laid it on thick, lining up his A-game.

The beautiful, freckled pool shark made a face.

“Hmm, well it's a shame because astronauts are cool, and I love scuba and think it's fascinating." She lined up another shot, sinking the last stripe.

He heard a chuckle behind him. Of course, Barlow had been watching them from behind the bar this whole time. Asher flipped him off quickly and the olive-skinned local mouthed back at him, 'You got no game'.

Well, yeah, he knew that.

Asher would take this fact with him to the grave, but he hadn't been with any woman since he came back to his half-empty apartment in California. That was probably the worst day of his life. Eva had moved all her stuff out with no explanation, except an i********: story saying she was 'flying solo'.

Not only did he not even get a break-up text, he found out after her 700,000 followers.

“Way more interesting than someone who just stands on a board and gets eaten by sharks," she quips back, and Asher's dark eyebrows raise to his hairline as she sinks the black eight ball.

She absolutely smoked him.

It was the hottest thing he'd seen in months.

“Well, I do have to say, sometimes you're the shark, and sometimes you're the tuna. I guess tonight I'm the tuna." Asher shrugged, his heart dropping a little bit in sadness knowing that the game had finished so quickly.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you definitely smell better than tuna." She smiled again and maybe he had a chance.

“Would you like to play another round? I can buy you a drink," Asher offered and it looked again like he had startled her out of a bad dream.

“Uh, no. I'm kind of jetlagged, and I've had a really…really exhausting day. I'm gonna go, but it's not…you. You cheered me up. Thanks for playing with me" She wringed her hands together with a far-off, fragile look in her eye.

Oh, she wasn't interested.

“It's all good. Glad I could cheer up a truly terrifying shark like yourself." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes because he really wanted her to like him. He held out his hand. “Asher."

She paused just a moment before reaching out, to shake his hand. The way her fingers felt in his, slim but powerful, smooth but worn, made him want to lace his larger fingers into hers and pull her toward him.

Maybe the rest of her felt as natural as this.

“Seeley. Nice to meet you." Their eye contact made his mouth dry out, but her reply confused him.

Asher quirked an eyebrow. “Seeley like the…seel?" He had to make sure he got that right.

“Yep," she said without explaining it any further and she waved and walked out of the bar, and most likely, out of his life.

“Dude, that is the first real laugh I've heard from you since you got here," Barlow razzed him from behind the bar and Asher rolled his eyes.

“I'm in paradise, doing a job anyone would give their left nut to have for more than enough money, and you say I'm not happy?" Asher challenged grinning ear to ear.

The man behind the bar wearing an 'Andre the Giant' shirt he stole from the dark-haired surfer.

“Bro, you gotta get some or it's gonna stop working. Your ex ain't ever coming back," Barlow drolled and Asher just stuck out his bottom lip.

“Plus, you know my family owns Seacret Divers and this bar, right? If I hear you clowning on divers again, I'm making you pay full price for your drinks," Barlow warned, scratching his short afro.

Asher flung a hand at him dismissively. “Surfers rule, drivers drool. I'm heading out early. Gonna work on the boat some. Catch you tomorrow." Asher stuck his tongue out, and the tall lanky bartender pulled a face.

“What are you, five?" he called out as the dark-haired surfer left, heading toward the dock where he anchored his bluewater catamaran sailboat.

“Ash! Ash! Someone's messing with your boat!" Kai, the precocious eight-year-old he paid to keep an eye on his catamaran when he wasn't around came whipping down the road.

He helped Kai and his family do maintenance on their boats from time to time, and his help making sure drunks stayed off his boat was almost better than the cameras he installed.

“Thanks for the heads up!" Asher took off at a sprint.

The fifty-footer had been in his family for two generations, and he was going to protect his home. Sure enough, noticed a man making a move as if he was about to board it.

“Hey! That's my boat, man," Asher called out to the intruder, picking up a wrench.

The guy turned and it was Colton. His boss.

“Colton? What are you doing here?" Asher asked, suddenly very confused then checked his phone to see if he missed a text from him.

He hadn't.

“Just thought I'd drop by. Let me aboard?" Colton slurred, drunk as a skunk as the dark-haired surfer caught up with him, dropping the wrench.

He just wanted to clean the galley was a mess and fix the leaking sink in the master bathroom.

“Another time. The place is a wreck, go back to your superyacht, man" Asher pointed up and away to a sleek silver wedge glistening in the moonlight.

“C'mon, we're friends right?" the blond insisted and tried to shoulder past the brunette onto his boat.

The green-eyed man wouldn't call them friends. When they went to the same prep academy, Colton and his friends called him, and everyone else on the wrestling team 'gay' like it was an insult.

“Colt, seriously what's up? Why are you here on Little Tucunia anyway?" Asher blocked him, crossing his arms. He really didn't want to deal with this right now. He knew he should just let Colton on since he got him this job after his professional surfing career went up in flames, but he just wanted some space.

“My girlfriend, Lucy. Caught her cheating on me and heard she ran off here to Little Tucunia," the blond billionaire explained, crossing his arms.

Asher felt bad at first but then felt confused.

“Wait, so if she cheated on you, why chase her? Wait…do you think she's on my catamaran?" the surfer asked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion because none of this was making any sense.

“No, jacka*s." Colton pressed a finger deep into Asher's chest as if he was a lesser man.

He wanted to wrench it off and push the blond into the pitch-black ocean, but he restrained himself.

“She also was a gold digger. I came by to warn you about her, but why would I? It's not like you're rich, or at least aren't anymore." The blond wrinkled his nose like the brunette smelled bad, but Seeley said he smelled nice, so he was doing it to illustrate a point.

A point that he smelled like a failure.

“Look, man. You're drunk, I'm tired, let's not do this," Asher deescalated, and Colton bit out a bitter chuckle.

“You're such a buzzkill. FINE. I have to go prepare for a VIP arrival anyway. Ciao, Ash," Colton sneered, turned, and walked away in his designer shoes and tailored outfit.

Asher's gut plummeted. He didn't blame Seeley for wanting nothing to do with him because Colton was right, he was just some washed-up pro surfer with a half-renovated sailboat.

He needed sleep.