The blond one shifts slightly on his board, not enough to look competitive unless you’re paying attention. I am unfortunately paying a lot of attention.
“You saying you could outsurf us?” he asks.
“I’m saying I already have. Statistically. I’ve caught at least three waves today, and you’re both in the middle of what looks like a very sexy planning meeting.”
The auburn-haired one laughs outright this time, head dipping.
The blond one gives him a look. “Very sexy?”
“You heard her.”
“I regret everything about this conversation,” I say.
“No, you don’t,” the auburn-haired one adds. The annoying thing is that he knows exactly how incredibly seductive he sounds.
A swell rolls beneath us, lifting all three boards. We turn automatically, watching the horizon. Another set is building, clean and fast.
The blond one glances over at me. “You want to prove it?”
“That depends. Are you about to make this weirdly binding?”
“Loser buys lunch,” the auburn-haired one declares.
I consider it. “Individually or collectively? I need clarity.”
“Confident,” the blond one says.
“She thinks she’s already won,” the auburn-haired one states.
“There’s a difference,” I say.
“Is there?” Mr. Blond says, slightly standoffish.
“Yes. Confidence is internal. Winning is what happens in about thirty seconds when you two realize I wasn’t flirting—I was issuing a challenge.”
His mouth curves properly then. “Cute.”
“Oh, good,” I shoot back. “You’re condescending. I was worried you might be nice.”
The auburn-haired one laughs again, shaking his head. And just like that, the air changes.
Whatever instinct told them to be wary of the stranger paddling up has been replaced by something a lot more dangerous for me personally.
The auburn-haired guy glances toward the incoming set. “Middle wave,” he says. “First one in doesn’t get counted. Too easy.”
“Afraid I’ll smoke you on the first go?” I ask.
“No,” he says, deadpan. “I just don’t want your seal entrance to become your whole legacy.”
I look at him, then grin, trying not to stare at them too long, which is difficult considering how stunning they are. Makes me wonder if they’re models for some surfer brands.
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy beating you,” I blurt out.
The blond one starts turning his board toward the swell. “We’ll see.”
And for the first time since I spotted those men on the beach, the panic in my chest loosens its grip just enough for something else to get in.
Adrenaline.
