Poseidon (Contemporary Mythos Book 5)

When his eyes locked with mine, a breath hitched in his throat. There was a subtle glint in his gaze, but he was quick to mask it, flashing a pearly white smile instead.

“I don’t think so. Do I look familiar to you?” I shielded my eyes with a hand from the sun.

He ran his fingers through his spiky blonde hair. “You’re right. We couldn’t have met. How could I forget a face like yours?”

“Does that line ever work?” I smiled and dug my toes into the sand.

He grinned again and turned his gaze away, squinting. “Once upon a time, maybe.”

His eyes had me in a trance, confusing me. Where had I heard that voice before? I took notice of his bare chest—clad in only a pair of blue board shorts, the sun glowed against his tanned skin. Carved bulky muscles and one of the most prominent six-pack abs I’d ever seen in my—

“Are you picking up garbage?” He asked, snapping me from my ogling.

I jolted, and my hand tightened around the poker like a javelin. “Hm? What?”

“You’ve got a trash bag. Either you’re picking up garbage on the beach, or you’re collecting cans. Something tells me it’s the former, but call it a hunch.” He smirked before subtly biting his lower lip.

Clearing my throat, I thrust the handle of the poker in the sand. “Trash. Yes. I try to do it every week.”

“Voluntarily?”

“Yes. I run an ocean conservation charity. While I clean up the beach, I also look for donations.” Digging into my pocket, I pulled out a business card and held it out to him with my head held high.

His smile brightened once he looked at the card. Dragging a hand over his smooth chin, he lifted his eyes to mine. “I’m an athlete, you know.”

I swiveled the poker in the sand and put my other hand on a hip. “Well, good for you. What do you play?”

“The waves mostly.”

“The—” I frowned and looked at the vast Gulf waters behind me, then back to him. “Are you a swimmer?”

He interlaced his fingers in front of him. “Guess again.”

I tapped my finger against my cheek and slowly narrowed my eyes. “No. You’re not—” I let the poker stand by itself, supported in the sand, and crossed my arms. “Don’t tell me you’re a surfer.”

He chuckled and threw his arms out at their sides, making his biceps flex. “What’s wrong with surfers?”

Tread carefully here, Cory.

“Most of them seem to be conceited, grungy, and think they own the ocean.”

“Most of them. So, not all, then?” His grin spread wide, further accentuating his broad jawline.

“Yet to be determined.”

We went silent, staring at each other with curious intent in our gazes.

“I’m an athlete too,” I blurted in a horrible attempt to end the silence.

“Oh?” He folded his burly arms. “Let me guess.” Tapping his finger against his lip, he looked up as if he were thinking but snuck a peek at my expression. “Figure skater.”

“No.”

“Gymnast?”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to list every sport known for petite athletes?”

He laughed. “Why don’t you tell me? You can’t say you’re an athlete, then leave me hangin’.”

I chewed on the inside of my mouth. I’d dug the hole I was presently in. I might as well wave my hands for a rescue.

“eSports,” I clipped.

He leaned forward, bringing our faces closer. “eSports?”

I lifted my chin. “Mmhmm.”

“Care to explain what in the name of the Seven Seas, that is?”

“Videogames. Tournaments and such. You win money, prizes, and I have a Glitch account where I stream a couple of nights a week for a little extra cash.”

Admitting this always went one of two ways—especially with men. Either they were intrigued that a “woman” played games beyond Mario and The Sims, which always made my blood boil. Or they thought I was weird.

“Videogames? Really? I never pegged you for the type.” He leaned back with a snarky grin.

“You’ve known me an entire five minutes and think you know my type?”

He cleared his throat. “Call it a—sixth sense.”

“Simon, bruh, come on. Those waves ain’t gonna surf themselves,” another surfer across the beach yelled at the man in front of me.

Simon. Surfer.

“Simon? Are you Simon Thalassa?” I pointed at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged.” He held up a finger at the other surfer, keeping his focus on me.

No wonder his face looked familiar. Nearly every sports channel featured him and his insane surfing abilities.

“I thought you meant you surfed for fun. You never said anything about being a legit pro.” I felt even shorter somehow knowing that information.

“Does it make a difference to you?” He smirked. “Does me being a pro put me higher or lower on your mental totem pole?”

“Yet to be determined,” I whispered.

His eyes sparkled, and he flipped my business card between his fingers. “Now that you know my name, care to give me yours?”

“Cory. Well. Cordelia, but everyone calls me Cory.”

His smile melted into a warm, gooey upturn of his lips. Nothing snarky or coy about it. “Cordelia. Jewel of the sea.”

I squinted curiously at him. “That’s right.”

“Well, Cory. As a professional athlete, I can stick all kinds of sponsors on my surfboard, wetsuit. You name it.” He flicked my business card with two fingers. “You get me a high-res logo of your charity, and I’ll add it on.”

My jaw dropped. “But you don’t know anything about it. How do you even know it’s legit?”

“Something tells me you’re good for it. And if not, well, you get to make an ass of me.” He snickered. “It was nice meeting you, Cory. Hope to run into you again.”

My mouth remained open, at a loss for words. He was halfway down the beach when I finally managed to blurt out, “Where do I send the file?”

He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Google me. I don’t exactly have anywhere to store business cards in this suit.” He gave a lopsided grin, touching over his bare chest and shoulders.

I stifled an eye roll but couldn’t help the smile creeping on my lips. A mysterious man was swept into my path by ocean winds and misunderstood identity. It was a thing of fairy tales.

After ten minutes of picking up trash and trying not to let Simon catch me staring at him surfing, I wrapped it up for the day. When Meg texted asking me to come over, I was relieved. She acted far too aloof during our dive, considering she and Emma had been together so long. I knew to give her space. She’d come to me when she was ready, and that was tonight.

I stood in front of her door armed with a six-pack of Yoohoo and a family-size package of Twizzlers. She liked what she liked. I’d expected her to look like she’d been crying, hair disheveled, and a balled-up tissue in her hand. When she opened the door, what I saw was far worse. Dark bags were under her reddened eyes, and dried tears streaked her cheeks. Her nose was red and puffy, and she’d bitten down her nails to the stubs. She wore a suit with the jacket thrown in a ball on the floor.

“Meg?” I said in a hushed tone.

She grabbed my hand and yanked me inside, swiping the Twizzlers in the process. I kept quiet, waiting for her to talk.

“I came home, Cor, ready to binge-watch Wynonna Earp for the umpteenth time and fantasize about a relationship like Wayhaught, but then—” She blew out a breath, ripping the Twizzler bag open like a starving raptor. After shoving one in her mouth, she hung it off her lip and continued. “Emma called. Asked to meet up so we could ‘talk’.” She made air quotes.

I leaned against the back of her couch, watching my best friend pour her heart out to what had to be anything but a happy ending.

“So being the lovesick idiot that I am—”

I opened my mouth to disagree with her, but she threw her palm in the air to stop me. My mouth snapped shut.

“I thought she wanted to reconcile. Tell me she freaked out with how long we’d been dating. Not that I gave her any reason to think I needed her to put a ring on it or something. I just—” She shoved the rest of the Twizzler in her mouth and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I got dressed like it was a date, only to get to the restaurant. She might as well have been in pajamas, Cory. Pajamas.”

I winced.

“Basically, she called me there to tell me we have to break all forms of contact. This dude she’s seeing doesn’t want us to be friends. I mean—and she said she didn’t feel right telling me over the phone.” She grabbed one of the Yoohoos and twisted the cap, quickly becoming frustrated when she couldn’t open it.

I crossed the room and gently took the bottle from her hand, opening it on the first try with a warm smile.

“It was that quick, Cory. Two years down the drain, and now I’m supposed to not even talk to her.” Tears welled in her eyes as she brought the chocolate drink to her trembling lips.

“I’m so, so, sorry, Meg.” I side hugged her.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around me, resting her chin on top of my head.

“Know what the shittiest part is?” She chuckled. “Dating again. I hate it. Thought I was done.”

I squeezed her tighter. “You’re a catch. It won’t take you long.”

She pushed me back, narrowing her eyes at me. “Wait a minute. That tone in your voice. What happened after I left the beach?”

Was I that obvious?

I shifted my eyes. “I picked up trash.”

“You’re not telling me everything. Why?”

“Meg. Seriously. It’s not the time to talk about it. Right now, it is about you.”

Her face fell. “You know me. Do I really want to spend this entire night wallowing in self-pity? Why the hell did I call you over here?”

A nervous grin spread over my lips. “To bring you your favorite snacks, listen, and offer any and all hugs?”

“Spill.” She crossed her arms.

“Do you know the surfer, Simon Thalassa?”

“Are you kidding? He’s the best in the country. The way he trails his hand through the curl is like he’s talking to the water itself; I swear.”

“He sort of walked up to me when I was poking garbage. Asked if we’ve met.” Those insanely green eyes haunted my memories.

“Wait. Had you? Met him before?”

“Of course not. I’d have told you.”

She curled the Twizzlers and Yoohoo into her arm and pulled me to the couch. After forcing me to sit, she sat across from me, widened her legs, and leaned forward. “So, what’d you say?”

“I told him no.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re supposed to be distracting me. It doesn’t help in the slightest when you’re giving simplistic answers.”

“I’ve never met him, but something about his eyes and that voice…they’re familiar somehow.” I sighed and slid until my butt hit the back cushion. The couch’s height made my feet dangle, unable to touch the floor.

“Intriguing,” Meg said, nodding.

“Anyway, it’s seriously not a big deal. We talked, he offered the charity group to be a sponsor on his surfboard and—”

She flailed her hands around. “Wait, wait, wait. He offered what?”

“Sponsorship. Said if I send him an image file, he’ll slap it on his board. What’s the big deal?”

She jumped up. “Cory, it’s a huge deal because he is a huge deal. We’ll probably be swarming with donations. I mean drowning in them.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. And if he mentions the group on camera…” She turned on her heels, bending backward with a cackle. “We’ll have to hire a PA to handle the overflow.”

I stared at my dangling feet, wiggling them. “I hadn’t given it much thought, I guess.”

“You must’ve made quite the impression.” She flopped on the couch next to me.

“I don’t know what it was, but every time he looked at me, it was like he was comfortable. Like he truly knew who I was.” I tucked my legs underneath me after toeing off my shoes. “Which in turn made me feel comfortable around a complete stranger.”

“I’m sure the good looks didn’t help at all, huh?” She elbowed me with half a Twizzler hanging from her mouth. “Not that I’m an expert, but from what I’ve seen of him on TV, he seemed the type a lot of you straight gals would dig.”

I chuckled. “Yes. He’s hot.”

“When are you going to send him the file?”

“Tomorrow. The next day. I’m not in a rush.”

Meg rolled her eyes and dramatically dropped her head on the back of the couch. “If you don’t send it tomorrow, I’m doing it for you. The sooner he has it, the sooner it can get on the board, and we can be rolling in donation money.”

She was right. But sending him the file meant opening another line of communication. I wouldn’t say I disliked him per se based on our first encounter, but the unexplained familiarity made me uneasy.

“Fine.” I yanked the remote from the end table. “Want to watch some Wynonna?”

“You’re a saint, Cordelia.” She held out a Yoohoo.

After cuing up one of Meg’s favorite episodes, I screwed off the cap and we clanked our bottles together. We stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, watching so much of the western sci-fi show I’d be dreaming of the cast for the unforeseeable future. With my head leaning back on the cushion and Meg’s head in my lap, we fell asleep.

Instead of dreaming about Doc Holliday like I imagined I would be, I woke up submerged in the ocean. But I wasn’t drowning. Breaths came in and out of my lungs as naturally as they did on land. Dolphins circled me, begging me to play with them. I reached for one. White silk floated over my arm from a dress wrapped around me. One dolphin swam past my fingers, wiggling its tail from my touch.

I smiled to myself and turned, gazing up at the sun casting light rays through the water’s surface. Pushing my feet, I started to swim up, but a strong hand wrapped around my wrist. I closed my eyes before opening them to gaze over my shoulder. A man with long flowing blonde hair, and a full beard, peered at me—a gaze of blazing…emerald.