“Barby at the weekends, no crocs, but . . . I learned to surf.” My voice is quieter because I miss it. And it begs the question, do I miss it as much as I would miss Valentine Nook again? “I got pretty good at it. Went every morning before work, in fact.”
His eyes skate over me, assessing, appraising. I don’t know if he’s trying to picture me on a surfboard because it feels more than that. It’s slow, deliberate, holding for a beat too long around my hips, and back up. By the time his eyes finally meet mine, there’s heat emanating from beneath my skin, and my cheeks are flushed.
If I’m not mistaken, for the first time ever that I’m aware of, Hendricks Burlington has checked me out.
“I’m impressed,” he says eventually, raising his bottle to me. “What was the school like?”
“Like Valentine Prep, but bigger.” I smile, and the memories of the children running around in the sunshine help me hold my composure. I imagine them breaking from school and heading straight to the beach for a surf. It’s still the height of summer there, and hereit’s dark at four. “I liked it a lot.”
“I’m glad you did.” His smile pulls up, but it’s more pensive than happy. “You worked hard to find a good school.”
He looks away again, back at the stand, and tosses the screwdriver he’s still holding over and over. The energy between us feels like it’s on the verge of turning tense again, or maybe we’re already there.
“So secret valentine, huh?”
Hendricks looks at me, bemused. The screwdriver stills. Yes, that’s much better.
“What?”
“I believe your son outed you.” I waggle my brows, for no reason at all. “Who is it? Annabel Stenson, Lauren MacCauley—or was she just Miles’s? Maybe Polly?—”
“Stop it, Stor. Don’t do that.”
I shrug, wishing it hadn’t been niggling at me since Max brought it up.
Hendricks sips his beer again. “What about you, anyway?” It’s casual, too casual. “Any blasts from the past? Old-school buddies who’ve recently shown their face?”
I peer at him over the rim of my bottle and shake my head. “Nope.”
“None?”
I shake my head.
“Oh,” he replies, which is enough for me.
It doesn’t take a Mensa membership to know he’s talking about Sam Pelling.
I have no intention of letting him know that Sam messaged me on Facebook to say he’d heard I’d returnedand asked me to meet, because I never replied. If there’s even the slightest chance that Hendricks and I might move into something more than friends, I’m not going to jeopardize it.
But the fact he’s brought it up adds to the warmth still circling deep inside my belly.
“Yeah, going to Australia really helped me cull my friendship group,” I quip. The ones from Valentine Nook anyway. I still kept up with some uni friends now and again. “I’d been waiting for the right time to do it, and the opportunity presented itself.”
He’s laughing as he pulls his phone from his pocket. Whoever’s name is on the screen wipes all amusement from his face, and before he answers, he turns his back.
“Sienna?”
CHAPTER 19
Hendricks
“Don’t normally see you in this early.”
I smile sheepishly at Claudia. “Couldn’t sleep.”
She raises an eyebrow in response. She’s not buying the bullshit I’m selling this morning.
It’s not bullshit, though. Not totally anyway. I woke up exceptionally early after a fitful night. The quality of my sleep has gradually worsened since Saturday, since Sienna called and the countdown to seeing her again after years of no contact began. Because I still don’t know what she wants.
