Chapter Text
They both flopped unceremoniously on their respective beds, face first. It had been a long, long drive, but at last, they had pulled into Todos Santos, their midnight arrival adding 2 to the small beach town's population.
"Was the Jeep always that uncomfortable or am I just getting old?"
Jack's question got swallowed up by the pillow and Izzy's laughter did the same. "Both," she mumbled. "Why did we come all this way again?"
"Because we're here to get away, and Ricardo said if we wanted a real surfing experience, this was the place to go."
"I think the intent was for you to bring him, too."
Jack rolled her eyes at the memory of the man with the sparkling eyes and sly smile. Any other time, she might have considered it. Briefly. God knows Izzy wasn't the only one whose bed had been empty for longer than she could remember, but this trip was about her friend, six months off of a hard divorce.
“Maybe you should’ve brought him,” Jack said. “Pretty sure he wasn’t picky.”
Izzy turned her head and let out a laugh. “Yeah, but I am.”
Jack snorted her disbelief. “Sure. We’ll revisit that comment in a week. In the meantime, you’re getting your own room first thing tomorrow.”
“The sock on the door won’t pass?”
Sitting up with a groan, Jack rolled her eyes. “I’m not getting stranded at 2 in the morning.”
“Maybe you should find yourself an island lover.”
“Oh, god. Why do you have to say it like that?” Jack threw a pillow at Izzy. “Besides, it’s not an island, it’s a peninsula.”
Izzy waved off the deflection. Standing, she stretched and yawned. Padding her way to the bathroom, she said, “Tomato, tomahto. Wouldn’t hurt you to get lucky.”
The second pillow hit the bathroom door that closed a split second quicker than Jack could throw.
…..
“And that’s the other reason you’re getting your own room,” Jack whispered to Izzy who was sprawled out and snoring. She didn’t mind, though, at least, not the ‘sprawling’ part. It gave her a chance to get out into the early morning, quiet and alone, nothing but the wind, the water and her board. It had been years since she’d last rode, and the psychologist in her knew she was still clinging on to the idea that she could never have that life again- life before Afghanistan- a life that had included surfing every day. Even now, she felt odd wearing a two-piece instead of the rashguard top she normally wore at the beach to keep inquisitive eyes from the scars on her back. But maybe this trip wasn’t just for her friend after all. She caught herself pulling the cover up tighter and forgave herself.
Baby steps.
The wind and the salt water forgave her, too, welcoming her to the quiet beach. There was no one else around to welcome the sun coming up, and she lifted her face to greet it before dropping her towel, phone and cover up onto the fine sand. She patted her board like an old friend and the two of them made their way into the water. Her toes clenched into the wet sand and she revelled in its coolness, waited for the water to lap over her feet. The walk into deeper water was measured and remembered, and she let out a little yelp when the ocean reached her breasts. A few deep breaths summoned up the courage to drop under the surface, submerging herself, becoming one with the water again, until she bobbed back up, exhaling an exhilarated gasp. Now accustomed to the temperature, she laid flat on the board and began leisurely paddling out towards the incoming waves, making sure to choose the calmer tides as a test run. Three minutes out and she decided it was ‘go’ time. Flattening her hands on the board, she pushed up, brought one foot underneath her, then the other and stood, knees bent, smile wide. The wave came up behind her and she rode the edge, shifting her weight from one side then to the other, racing the wave to the beach. When the inertia ran out, she flopped back into the ocean and let the tide carry her the rest of the way.
…..
As the sun rose higher and the beach got fuller, she felt satisfied she had pushed herself to the limit. She had quickly moved to the stronger tides and bigger waves and it felt like old times. She knew she had caught the attention of more than one beachgoer and figured that was her cue to find Izzy. Quickly drying herself off and throwing on the cover-up, she checked her phone.
I’ve been up for hours! Where are you??
Jack rolled her eyes and dialed the number.
“Hours, huh?” She could almost see the hand wave.
“Well, it seemed like it. I’m hungry.”
The petulance made her laugh. “There’s a restaurant a block from the hotel. On the corner. Give me 20 minutes.”
“If I’ve been swept away by a local boy because I’ve waited so long, don’t come crying to me.”
Jack could only shake her head, tuck the board under her arm, and make the trek back into town.
…..
Had she been 2 minutes longer, Izzy’s threat might’ve come to fruition, based on the sly smiles she was getting from the waiter.
"You don't wait long," Jack said, slipping into her seat.
Izzy shrugged. "You were right; it's time for me to move on." A shadow swept across her face, no doubt at the memory of her divorce.
Jack reached across the table to squeeze her friend's hand. "I'm not judging. You have all the right in the world."
Consoled, Izzy cheekily informed her, "That's why I got my own room this morning."
"Thank god. Your snoring!"
"I do not snore!"
Jack laughed. "Yeah, okay. So what's on the menu? Besides the waiter."
On cue, he arrived at their table. "Would you ladies like some more time to order or have you found something you'd like?"
His smile went to Izzy, and Jack groaned.
…..
"Oh, why did I order all that?"
Both women were sitting back, letting the meal digest. Jack balanced her coffee cup in her palm and soaked up the morning.
"Because you let Alejandro talk you into it,” she replied. “And if he talks you into anything else, go to the pharmacy first.”
Izzy’s eyes opened wide in mock horror. “Is this where you give me the birds and the bees talk, Mom?”
“I’m just saying, play safe.”
Izzy relented with a murmur. “So, we know what I was doing all morning, how about you?”
Jack shrugged. “I went surfing.”
The cup stopped halfway to Izzy’s lips. “You what?”
“I brought my board, didn’t I?”
“Well, yeah,” she replied, “but whenever I ask you to go surfing, you find a reason to turn me down.” Before there could be a protest, she said, “I get it, Jack, I do.” She knew the history more than just about anyone, and because of that knowledge, she smiled broadly. “I’m so proud of you!” As if seeing Jack’s outfit for the first time, she arched an eyebrow. “In that?”
Jack knew exactly what she was getting at, knew how rare it was to have her back bare. “Yes, in this. There was hardly anyone there, and definitely no one who knew me.”
“Well, look at us.” She reached across to touch her cup with Jack’s. “Two women, moving on!”
Jack returned the toast. “To moving on.”
“Great,” Izzy said, downing the drink. “Now, let’s go shopping.”
“Thought you already saw something in the window you liked.”
Izzy couldn’t stop the smirk from forming. “Very funny.”
“Am I wrong?”
Ignoring the question, she glanced around. “Shit, I forgot my wallet at the hotel.”
“That’s convenient.”
“But I left yours in Bodhi’s glove box.”
“Even more convenient.” Jack sighed, pushing out her chair and standing. “I’ve got to strap the board on anyway. Left it outside. I’ll tell Alejandro to keep you occupied while I’m gone.”
…..
The cobblestone streets washed an old world feeling over her soul that she loved. Though tourists were starting to creep into the area over the years, the influx of money hadn’t changed the feel of the place, and for that, she was grateful. It felt like a second home from the moment she stepped out that morning, and she felt a peace she hadn’t had in ages.
Her heart was still light when she got to the top of the small incline and saw him standing beside the Jeep. Tall and broad, about six feet high and nearly half that across the shoulders. She knew it was an illusion caused by the white T-shirt he was wearing, but he looked big, in an authoritarian sort of way, like the drill sergeants back in Fort Benning. But it was his eyes that stood out above all else, even under the pulled down brim of his baseball cap, even among the shaggy hair that peeked out and the scruff that nearly took over his face. She had never seen eyes so blue, so piercing, so… laser focused on her.
“This your Jeep?”
He skipped the preamble and got right to the point. She would have appreciated his directness had it not been so blunt. Though she could see the problem immediately, she chose to go on the defensive.
“Sure looks like it.” He muttered something in Spanish that caught her attention, and in a reply that was also in the local language, she replied, “I suggest you choose your next words carefully, Cowboy.” He must not have been accustomed to someone volleying back his snark, because she saw him fight the tug at the corner of his mouth, though his raised eyebrows gave him away. His eyes went ocean blue and she wondered how she could keep them that colour. He seemed to have won the battle with himself, because his next question was just as terse as the first.
“So you can speak Spanish but you can’t read it?” He jerked his head in the direction of the No Estacionar sign that was right in front of the Jeep's grill.
As captivating as his eyes were, she narrowed hers at his gruffness. "I can, but I just assumed the sign was a relic. Like the truck I'm blocking in. You know, kinda giving it all that Old World vibe." She waved her hands around, like she was pulling in said vibe. She tried not to laugh at his expression. Tried and failed. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to touch his arm in apology. "A friend of mine actually parked it here. I'll move it. Let me just get this strapped on."
She hoisted the board onto the rack and was surprised when he helped her with it.
"Tell your friend he's going to get you into trouble around here."
Her laughter softened to a grin. Though she didn't correct his assumption of her friend's gender, she did remark, "Oh, I'm pretty sure I can do that all by myself." Making sure the ties were tight, she then slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. "It was nice talking to you." She raised her hand to wave and winked when he did the same.
…..
He caught himself just as his hand came up and he mentally head slapped himself. Jesus, are ya 12? he asked himself, though he couldn't quite look away even as the Jeep turned down the street. He had seen enough California tourists in his nearly two decades in Mexico, but there was something about her, all her East Coast hustle with her sass and her smile. Her bronze came from the sun, her laugh came from somewhere easy and soft and… And get your head outta the clouds, Gunny. His silent admonishment got him moving, even if the image of a certain stranger stayed with him.
…..
"What are you grinning about?"
Jack had returned to the restaurant and was in the process of paying the bill when Izzy asked the question. Smiling at the girl at the counter, Jack replied, "Nothing. Just ran into a local. You need to learn how to read Spanish. Or at least what 'No Estacionar' is."
Ignoring the second part to focus on the first, Izzy purred, "Ooh, a local."
Jack could only shake her head. "Not like that. American. Now that I think about it, he sounded like he was from Pennsylvania."
"Your old stomping ground. Maybe you two know each other. "
"The state has over 12 million people. Pretty sure we don't know each other."
Izzy leaned in and wiggled her eyebrows. "Maybe you should get to know each other."
"Oh, my God. Are we going shopping or are you going to matchmake all day?"
"You're right, I can matchmake whenever I want. I'll only get so many opportunities to use your credit card." Izzy snatched it out of her hand before she had the chance to pull it back.
…..
To her credit, she enjoyed window shopping more than actually buying, so Jack's card was safe. The friends walked up one side of the cobblestoned street lined with shops and down the other, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the handmade items, pointing and laughing at some of the more obvious tourist traps. Outside a store appropriately called The Surf Shop, Izzy's eyes lit up.
"You should buy a new surfboard!"
"Pardon?"
She nudged Jack's shoulder. "Come on. You went out surfing for the first time in forever. New page, new board." She pulled her into the shop before there could be any more protestations.
The store was big and bright and they were greeted by The Beach Boys over the speakers. It was so cliché, intentionally so, that Jack couldn't help but burst out laughing. The sound caught the attention of an older man, black hair streaked with grey, his teeth white against his dark skin. The small but wiry gentleman weaved through the small cluster of customers to get to the new arrivals.
"Welcome to the best surf shop in Todos Santos," he greeted, hands in prayer against his linen shirt.
"I'm pretty sure you're the only surf shop we've seen," Izzy replied with a smile.
He shrugged. "Perhaps no one wants to bother when they know Mario's is the best." Turning to Jack, he raised his chin. "You're here to buy a board."
"No," Jack said, just as Izzy said, "Yes."
"You haven't surfed for quite some time, but you're slowly getting back into it," he theorized. "And you're finding it's like riding a bicycle, but now you need to ride a new one. Especially for the competition."
Jack frowned at his astuteness but also at his suggestion. "Competition? No."
"Competition, yes," he repeated, his charm easy and natural. "I saw you this morning." When Jack inhaled sharply, he gently touched her arm. "I mean no harm by it, I assure you. You're not the only one who gets out before the birds. You're good. You're very good. Rusty, but that didn't take long, did it?"
There was something in his manner that put her at ease, and she relaxed her shoulders. "No."
"So for the tournament, you need a new board."
"I'm not-"
"I think I have just the thing," he went on as if he didn't hear her.
Recognizing a sales pitch when she heard it, Jack said, "And how much is this board going to cost?"
"So you are going to buy one?" Izzy asked, her voice filled with excitement.
Jack shushed her with a look before telling the shop owner, "Let's hear it."
"Oh, I don't know how much he'll charge. Will depend on the mood the grumpy bastard is in." He issued the damning praise with a bright smile.
"Wait," Jack said, "so you're not going to sell me a board from your own shop?"
"I know. Loco, right? But I have the feeling you need a very special board. And that can only mean one craftsman."
"Sounds like Mr. Myagi," Izzy whispered. "Wax on, wax off."
Ignoring her now that her interest was piqued, Jack asked, "Where do I find this craftsman?"
"Come with me," he said, waving them to the counter. "I'll draw you a map."
…..
The map consisted of some hash lines and Xs, marking spots like 'The Fish Hut' and 'The Rock with the Single Tree', and it took them 20 minutes to walk from the beach to the path that disappeared through the trees and rock until it opened up to a whole new cove.
"I'd be in awe if I didn't just spend the last hour trekking through the jungle in flip flops."
Jack dismissed the complaint. "You're such a princess."
"Okay, Army Barbie. Ow!" She rubbed her shoulder where she got a hard backhand.
"This is gorgeous," Jack said, soaking up the sights. It was a small cove but the sand was white and the water was a different blue than it was at the town's beach. There was just enough cover from the natural terrain to keep it private, and had they not just walked there, Jack would be hard pressed to believe the haven was only 20 minutes away from the tourist area. Two simple buildings sat back from the tide; one looked like a workshop and the larger one was evidently the living space, complete with a small covered porch.
Izzy wasn't as sold on it. "We're not going to get kidnapped and thrown into a human trafficking ring, are we?" She protected her shoulder just in time to avoid another backhand.
A young man came out of the workshop and jumped back at seeing the women. Jack held up a hand.
"Sorry. We were sent here by Mario. I'm looking for a new board. Apparently." She added the last bit, still trying to figure out how she got talked into it. "I've heard you're a real craftsman."
He let out a laugh. "I appreciate the words, especially from such a pretty lady, but I think you might mean someone else."
"Mig, what's takin you so-"
Jack saw the man step out of the same building, and the cloth between his hands stopped when he saw his visitors.
"Of course," she said under her breath but loud enough for Izzy to hear. Seeing the questioning eyebrow, Jack filled her in. "The local I ran into this morning."
Izzy's eyes went from Jack to the man. "Mmmm," she softly purred. "Not bad. In an Ernest Hemingway Old Man and the Sea sort of way."
"Can I help you?" he asked.
Taking the initiative, Jack stepped forward and extended her hand. "Jacqueline Sloane. This is my questionable friend, Isabel Monet."
He looked down at her hand, then back to her face. "Gibbs."
Izzy narrowed her eyes. "Is that a first name? A last name? A nickname?"
Without looking away from Jack, he said, "Just 'Gibbs'."
"Well, 'just Gibbs', we just trekked through a mile of Amazon rainforest to get here because we heard you were The Guy to make her a surfboard."
"Is that so?" he asked, still looking at Jack.
"The bit about you being The Guy? That's what we were told. The part about the rainforest? I've been through worse with less."
"Ex-Army," Izzy helpfully supplied.
A private smile sketched across his mouth. "Right."
"Miguel Rodriguez," the young man introduced himself, "since I'll be waiting forever for Gibbs to do it. So what kind of board are you ladies looking for?"
Izzy pointed at Jack. "Just this one. I prefer the margaritas that come after the surfing."
Miguel tilted his head at Jack. "A board for you, then."
Gibbs butt in. "You couldn't afford me, ex-Army."
She blinked at his dismissal, then asked, "Living the high life on the Navy retirement package, huh?"
He didn't respond to the shot across the bow, but Miguel couldn't resist.
"How did you know he was in the Marines?"
Jack smirked at her accuracy. "Because there's only one kind of person who ever says 'Army' that way."
His lips twitched at the statement, but rather than reply, turned away and went back into the workshop.
"Go, go," Miguel quietly urged her. "He didn't say 'no'." To Izzy, he said, "I could make you a drink, if you like."
"I like." She gave Jack a not-so-gentle push. "Go."
…..