Unraveled (Unwrapped and Unraveled 2)

"You going somewhere with that?" she asked.

"I'm not. You are."

Greta arched a brow. "Yeah? Where do you think I'm going?"

"You're going to put on your swimsuit, take this lunch out to share with Mitch and the kids, then spend the afternoon surfing."

"I am not."

Her mother put her hands on her hips, a signal she was digging in for battle. "Greta. You spend every damn day, twelve to fifteen hours of it, working. Do you think that's what your father had in mind for you when he left you this motel?"

How many times had they had this argument? "Dad knew I loved this place. I don't mind the work, Mom."

"Your life didn't end when Cody left, honey."

"I know that. My life doesn't feel over. I love what I'm doing."

"But you don't have fun anymore."

She resisted rolling her eyes. "I don't need to have fun. I need to be serious about making a living and raising my kids."

"That's a load of crap and you know it. Everyone is entitled to recreate. Your dad and I did plenty of it. He might have died too young, but we lived every moment of the lives we had together, with no regrets. Can you say the same about yourself?"

She hated seeing the tears in her mother's eyes, hated that she felt she brought them on. "My life is different than yours and Dad's."

"It doesn't have to be. I want to see you happy."

"I am happy."

Her mother inhaled, then sighed and spoke in a soft voice. "No, Greta. You're not, and haven't been for a very long time. But I think you can be." Her gaze drifted out to the surf, and Greta shook her head.

"With Mitch?" She shook her head. "Oh, Mom. You've got the wrong idea. We're just....having fun together."

"Are you? And that's all it is?"

"Yes."

"That was a quick answer."

"There's nothing between us."

Her mother came closer, grabbed her hands and held them. "I know you better than you know yourself sometimes, Greta Lynn. There's something between the two of you."

She laughed. "Yeah. He wants to buy the Crystal Sands and I don't want to sell it to him. That's what's between us."

Her mother cast a knowing smile her way. "If you say so."

"I say so. Trust me, we're just friends."

"Fine. But I'm here today and things are slow. Go surf and be a nice hostess to a man who's been showing you and your kids a good time."

Dammit. She hated when she lost a battle. "Fine."

Her mother handed her the picnic basket. "Good girl."

Twenty minutes later she was in her swimsuit, a coverup thrown over it, basket in hand and padding down the beach in search of Mitch and her kids. She paused as she found them tearing up the waves about a half mile down shore, marveling at her son's natural ability at surfing. He rode alone, high on top of a pretty good-sized wave, grin a mile wide as he cruised into the flat water, whooping for joy and grabbing his board to walk out of the surf. He waved as he spotted her.

Mitch was out in the water working with Zoey, paddling his board alongside hers, using infinite patience with her little girl who wasn't quite as sure-footed on a surfboard as her older brother.

Greta held her breath as Zoey caught the top of a smaller wave. Zoey balanced precariously, Mitch hollering instructions to her as he rode the same wave effortlessly, his gorgeous body at home on the crest as if he could ride it even without the board under his feet. Zoey bit her lip in concentration, and Greta knew how determined her daughter could be when she wanted to learn a new skill.

Greta didn't exhale until Zoey made the wave all the way into shore, and couldn't resist a tiny whoop of exclamation that she'd made it.

What would it be like to have more time to spend with her children, to watch them surf like this, to while away the hours recreating and just...enjoying life with them?

Maybe what Mitch offered wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe she was holding on to foolish dreams and it was time to think realistically. The things she could offer her children...

She couldn't imagine. She'd probably be bored. And the kids would become the idle rich. Bratty, spoiled, unappreciative of what they had. No, they were better off seeing what it was like to work hard for what they had in life. It had worked out okay for her.

"Did you see me, Mom?" Zoey asked as she ran up to her mother and threw her soaked body against Greta's waist.

"I did. You looked beautiful out there."

"Mitch has been teaching me balance."

Mitch came up just then, smiling, his wet hair slicked back, his tanned face absolutely gorgeous in the afternoon sun. He literally took her breath away, this forty-something surfer dude who could still grin like a teenager catching his first wave. "Mitch is very good at surfing."

"Aww, gee, thanks, Greta," he said with a wink.

She held up the basket. "My mother packed a picnic lunch."

"Awesome!" Jeff said. "I'm starving."

She rolled her eyes as Jeff grabbed the basket and he and Zoey went running toward one of the covered tables down the beach. "He's always starving. I fear another growth spurt coming on."

"He burns a lot of calories riding the board. He's a natural," Mitch said as they walked side by side down the beach.

"Like you always were when you were younger."

Mitch shrugged. "I had the drive in me. You could never drag me out of the water. But he wants something different."

Greta stopped. "He does?"

"So he says. He wants to be a marine biologist."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah. He's very concerned about environmental impact on sea life."

Holy shit. How could she not know this about her son? "I didn't know. He never said anything to me about this."

"It's all he t

alks about. He's incredibly knowledgeable about the topic for a kid his age."

An ache formed in the pit of her stomach, for many reasons. "I see."

She didn't say anything more because they'd reached the table. Instead, she focused on actually having some time to spend with her kids that didn't involve directing them in chores for either the motel or the house. Though they weren't really interested in talking to her, instead focused on Mitch, on talking about surfing and rehashing what they'd managed to accomplish in a few days, which apparently had been a lot.

"They're both naturals in the water," Mitch told her, singing their praises. "They learn quick, they adapt and they listen to direction well."

Greta could see the kids beam under his praise. Coming from a world class surfer like Mitch, it meant something. "I appreciate you taking time to work with them. I know you're busy."

He shrugged. "I'm not busy at all. It's the holidays. And the kids are great."

Zoey grinned. "Mitch said I have great swimming ability, Mom. Maybe I can start up lessons again."

Mitch ruffled Zoey's hair. "It's good to have goals. And hey, if you start young like you are now, you might just yet meet your goal of making the Olympic swim team."

Her daughter wanted to be an Olympic swimmer? "Olympics?"

"Sure. I'm great at freestyle and backstroke. My instructor said so until we couldn't afford lessons anymore."

Guilt poured down on her like a brick building had fallen. "Yes. You've always been a great swimmer." She plastered on a smile until the kids were done with lunch, and had run off to do something nearby. Only then did she allow her facade to crumble.

"I had no idea," she said, staring into the bottled water. "Jeff wants to be a marine biologist and Zoey wants to be an Olympic swimmer. How could I not know these things about my own children?"

Mitch slid his hand under the table and squeezed hers. "Kids are always more open about their dreams to strangers than to their own parents."

She turned her gaze to his. "My children and I talk about everything. There are no secrets between us."

"They know how burdened you are with everyday life, Greta. They probably didn't want to add to it."