Charm Stone

Chapter One It wasn't every day that Josie Griffin got to rip the back end. Parker's Inlet wasn't exactly known for its monster wave action, but it was known for monster spring storms. Yesterday's had been a doozy, which was why she was here at dawn, paddling back out to take advantage of the poststorm wave surge, despite the frigid water temperatures. Life always seemed simpler from the top of a surfboard. Waves juiced up, crested, and pounded home. If you were lucky, you squeezed the juice, and if you weren't, the juice squeezed you. Which pretty much summed up life as far as Josie was concerned. All you had to do was keep from getting your juice squeezed too often. Pressing her belly to the board, she maneuvered her dad's newly designed shortboard as new sets built up behind her. She grinned with the sheer joy of having the whole Atlantic to herself. At least that's how it felt. Even in peak season, this part of the beach was usually deserted. It was a distance from the hotels and hard to get to through the dunes and high sea grass. But it had the best break around and today, in addition to the high surf, the wind was perfect, straight off the coast. So she'd left a message on her dad's machine and hiked in. She probably should have waited for him, but the siren call was too strong. He'd understand. He'd been answering that call since before she was born. After spending weeks on graphics for some particularly fussy clients, she welcomed a day of hooky, even if she was helping her dad out at the same time. He'd be happy with her report on the new design, she thought as she caught the outside and pushed to her feet. The nose was perfect, the board mindless. One of his best yet. She was grinning fiercely as she ripped her board across the shoulder, playing it before dumping out and heading back for more. Life doesn't get any better than this, she thought, then shivered and laughed. Well, it could be eighty degrees instead of sixty, and this could be the Pipeline in Hawaii or Australia's Gold Coast, instead of Parker's Inlet. But for South Carolina in May, this was pretty damn good. Timing it just right, she pushed to her feet once again, then dragged her fingers through the wall of water building behind her and shot like a bullet just under the edge of the curl. She tucked again and swerved to her right, squeezing as much out of the wave as she could. She caught another shoulder and juiced it out a little more, thinking this would only be better if her dad was out here with her. She loved watching him tackle the surf. She was still learning technique from him even after all these years. Her mind wandered off down memory lane . . . and she never saw what struck her board and sent her flying. She was smacking the water before she realized her board was no longer beneath her feet. The heavy undertow pulled her down, rolling her and dragging her against the bottom. The ride ended with a solid crack to the head courtesy of her surfboard, before depositing her in the surging foam near the shore. She caught her breath and took stock. It wasn't like her to lose focus like that. Even in relatively small waves like these, losing concentration could have deadly consequences. Especially when surfing alone, but she spared herself that lecture. Instead she scraped at the seaweed and sand coating her wet suit, then tugged the hood off and brushed her hair loose. Scooping up some water, she rinsed the grit off her face, gasping again when the salt water stung her forehead. She must have taken a pretty good hit. She gingerly felt along her hairline. "Great. Just great," she muttered as her fingers encountered a growing bump. Her face felt scraped up as well. She tried to piece together what had happened and remembered the thump just before she went flying. Her board had slammed into something. She scanned the water. "So what inKauffman, Donna is the author of 'Charm Stone' with ISBN 9780553584578 and ISBN 055358457X.