Title: Surfer Girl

Series: Good Sports, Book One

Author: Alex Winters

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/13/2024

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 24400

Genre: Contemporary, Romance, contemporary, lesbian, sports, surfer, beach town

Sophie Velasquez is staying at her parents’ beach house for the summer when a strange new sound wakes her up on the first day in town. She’s just graduated college and, with the whole summer ahead of her, had been planning on sleeping in. But all that changes when she finds a sexy surfer girl using their boardwalk shower after a little dawn patrol in the ocean. Suddenly, Sophie is bound and determined not just to learn how to surf—but how to win the sexy redhead’s heart.
Jessie Baltimore has been showering at the deserted beach cottage for months when, suddenly, a sexy young homeowner interrupts her daily routine—with a fresh can of iced espresso energy drink, that is. Rather than kick her off the property, curvaceous Sophie asks for surfing lessons instead. Jessie is all too glad to comply, hoping a morning in the surf will lead to a little afternoon delight—all summer long.

Surfer Girl
Alex Winters © 2024
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Sophie

Sophie Vasquez thought she’d set the sprinklers for early evening, not early morning. So why were they coming on just after sunrise? And why the hell was she up so early on her first day back in town?
She lay in bed for a moment, forearm over her eyes to shut out the morning light, before she realized she wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon. The sprinkler must’ve been right outside the guestroom window. She heard it hiss and splash as she sat up from the futon, the wrought iron base beneath the thin mattress creaking wearily as she shifted.
There was a perfectly good queen size bed in the master bedroom, but that had always been her parents’ bed and, despite the fact they wouldn’t be joining her this summer (thank God!), Sophie still felt funny sleeping in their room.
Maybe if she had, she thought ruefully, the sprinklers wouldn’t have woken her up at such a godawful hour. It wasn’t that she was a late sleeper, per se. It was just she’d been hoping to sleep in after getting into town so late the night before.
She should have stayed on campus with a friend, but now that she’d finally graduated with her BA in Liberal Arts, all Sophie wanted to do was leave school in her rearview mirror and hole up in the family beach house, licking her wounds and plotting how to avoid the next, inevitable chapter in her preordained life.
She sighed, shaking the gloomy thoughts from her head. The transcripts, the low GPA, the disappointment, the inevitable dustup with her stepfather when Sophie announced she didn’t really want to pursue her graduate studies after all, the stony silence, the subtle insistence, and the inevitable acceptance that life would just be easier if she succumbed. What was another two years of college, anyway?
That was for later, though. Much later. For now, on her first day back in Siesta Beach, Florida after four long years matriculating in Atlanta, all Sophie wanted to do was to sleep for twelve hours straight, order some takeout from Chopstix, her favorite strip mall Chinese restaurant, raid her parents’ liquor cabinet, and binge-watch her favorite supernatural lesbian series, Vampire Vixens from Venus. Instead, she was up at the ass crack of dawn, fretting about how to set the sprinklers to come on later for future mornings.
Stretching like a cat after a midday nap, Sophie stirred from the futon and ignored the pile of clothes spilling out of her duffel bag like an overstuffed taco. Bras and panties and socks and baby doll tees overflowed from the center after she rifled through it to find her favorite sleep shirt, only to realize it was still in the car with the rest of her things.
Like the inevitable fight with her family, that could all come later too.
Frustrated, whiny, and wanting someone—or, at least, some inanimate object—to blame, Sophie slipped two fingers between the curtains, gently easing them aside to scowl at the offending sprinkler heads, as if one good side eye could silence them and somehow manage to salvage her sleepy morning and send her straight back to Dreamland. Instead, Sophie’s eyes grew wide, her heart racing and sleep suddenly the last thing on her frenzied, frazzled mind. Just outside, atop the rustic back deck, sagging and warped from years of weather and wear, a comely young surfer doused her alabaster skin in her makeshift boardwalk shower.
Sophie marveled at the sight as she followed thick rivulets of water down the surfer girl’s body, lean and glistening under the water’s gentle tendrils. She wore a crocheted bikini, chocolate brown and periwinkle blue against pale, freckled skin. Her eyes were closed as she slid her head beneath the spray, water dancing across her sandy shoulders and rippling off the bow holding her bikini top in place.
Sophie inched to the edge of the windowsill, the wood pressing against her aching loins, and slid the curtain open an inch or two more to steal a better view. She tried to ignore the sexy stranger’s small breasts, the long lean waist, and even longer legs as she stood on tiptoes to get the most from the weak water pressure above her head, combing her fingers through her wet auburn hair. But she failed. It was like a scene from a movie, one only Sophie could see.
The world shrank around her, zooming in tight on the window in front of her face, the curtains on either side of her, the dust bunnies on the hardwood floor beneath her feet and the soft, scruffy field of grass leading to the sagging walkway where the lone surfer showered, unaware she was being ogled by a desperate college grad just yards away.
The rising sun cast the athletic redhead in golden hues and dramatic shadows as Sophie licked her lips and made a split-second decision that would alter the course of her entire summer, one way or the other. She drifted from the windowsill, bare feet skittering across the wooden floors, and sprinted down the short, narrow hallway into the kitchen, heart pounding from the heady blend of anxiety and anticipation.
Not being a surfer herself, despite growing up in scenic Siesta Beach, Sophie had no idea how long it took a surfer to shower after a morning spent frolicking in the waves. Instinctively, however, she imagined it was far less time than she would need to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Panicking, the minutes ticking down, her spike of courage flatlining with every wasted millisecond, she opened the fridge to find a single tallboy can of Joltz, her favorite brand of iced espresso energy drink.
Her mother must’ve left it after spending last Christmas at the cottage with her second husband, Roy. Checking the expiration date, Sophie exhaled loudly to find she still had a few months left to go. Still, she cursed herself for being too lazy to stop at Bob’s Bodega on her way into town and stock up on something vaguely more…enticing.
If only she’d made the five-minute detour on her way back into town the night before, she might’ve had something a little more surfer-friendly to offer the sexy interloper. Organic gluten-free guava juice, for instance. Or perhaps even a pomegranate and kiwi smoothie blend in one of those fancy, hipster glass jars. Still, she reasoned that a cold can of iced coffee was better than showing up empty-handed.
Finger combing her curly black hair, fixing on a tempting (she hoped) smile, Sophie was about to breeze straight outside when she caught her reflection in the double French doors leading out to the deck. Unable to find her favorite baggy sleep shirt the (late) night before, Sophie had lazily unzipped her yoga hoodie and wriggled out of her capri pants before climbing into bed in nothing more than a skimpy pair of panties and the soft ribbed tank top she’d worn beneath the jacket. No bra, and she could practically feel the ocean breeze on the soft swell of her ass cheeks poking out from her skimpy boy cut panties.
Fortunately, her mom always kept her favorite silk kimono hanging from the edge of the dark wood Asian screen in the corner. She used it as a beach cover-up mostly, or as a robe in the mornings. Sophie dragged it on over her skimpy sleep outfit and hustled to the door. Breezing through at last, she approached at a cautious pace, still managing to startle the redheaded surfer who’d been reaching for her lemon-yellow board.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, using the board to cover herself as if she was naked. Sophie laughed at the quick blush that rose to her pale, adorably freckled cheeks. Holding her hands up as if approaching a wild animal to feed it, Sophie wriggled the tall drink can like a white flag of surrender.
“It’s okay,” she said, adopting a soothing voice and hoping the sexy stranger wouldn’t notice the vague, husky tone of desire layering her vocal cords. The surfer shook her head as if no, it was definitely not okay.
“I-I didn’t know anybody was staying here,” she sputtered desperately, fingers clinging to the surfboard like a safety blanket. “It’s been vacant all year, so…”
Sophie nodded, inching closer—but not too close. “I just got in late last night,” she explained. “I heard the water this morning and saw you out here and, well, I…I thought you might like something to drink…”
The redhead lowered her board slightly, as if literally letting down her guard. “I’m so embarrassed,” she said, voice a hoarse croak of misery.
Sophie nodded toward her blushing cheeks, offering a wry, hopefully comforting smile. “I can…see that.”
Alas, it only made the mystery girl blush all the more. Not that Sophie was complaining, mind you. She had never seen anything quite so adorable in all her life. They remained at a quiet impasse, the two of them standing on the weathered walkway leading to the beach but still a safe distance apart.
Sophie leaned her hip against the wooden railing to make it clear she wasn’t coming any closer before setting the can of iced espresso on the top ledge. “Are you coming in from a session?” she hazarded, trying to remember what surfers called what they did out in the waves. “Or just going out?”
The redhead lowered her board a little more, until it rested along the opposite railing. “Just coming in,” she explained, before sliding a stray lock of wet hair behind one still blushing ear. Nodding toward the leaking shower head, she explained, “My apartment complex doesn’t have an outdoor shower. Since no one’s ever here, I usually stop by and rinse off before I head home. I’m sooooo sorry, it’ll literally never happen again.”
Sophie’s heart danced a little flutter to think she might never look out her window and see clear water caressing the curves and ridges of the redhead’s supple body again.
“Honestly,” she said, trying not to sound so desperate. “It’s no big deal. If my mom and stepdad were here with me this summer? Sure, maybe. Roy is pretty anal about things like that. Most things, actually. Like grades and GPA and grad school and weight and gym memberships, but…I digress.” Sophie shook her head at her sudden trauma dump and struggled to get back on track, offering a goofy grin. “But it’s just me for the rest of the summer and, honestly? I could care less.”
She grinned anew.
That’s the understatement of the century!
Surfer Girl still looked uncertain, long fingers wriggling at her side as if she might reach for her board and dash back out into the waves for a quick getaway.
“I’m Sophie, by the way,” she said, suddenly remembering her manners and extending a reassuring hand.
The redhead smiled, grabbing it strongly and pumping it twice before letting go. Somehow, Sophie knew immediately she’d never forget that first electric touch, soft, pale skin against her own flushing hands. “Jessie.”
Sophie had always liked girls with boys’ names, especially surfer girls with boys’ names. Especially surfer girls with boys’ names whose bodies looked like Jessie’s. She nodded, pushing the can of Joltz just a little closer. It slid along the weathered railing, leaving a soft, damp trail of condensation in its wake.
“Here, go on, take it.”
Jessie looked at it, eyes hungry as she licked her lips. “Are you sure? I mean, when I saw you bolting out here just now, I thought it was to kick me out, not give me breakfast.”
Sophie waved the thought away. “Don’t all homeowners offer you breakfast when you trespass on their property?” For once, Jessie skipped the blushing and went straight to giggling. Sophie thought it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies, and smooth jazz. Visit him social media to see what stories are brewing up next!

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