He nodded, angling his board to face her. His gaze flitted down her body. “How’s the patch working out?”
“Well, I’m no longer freezing in this five-inch vicinity anymore, so I’ll chalk that up to a win.” Her fingers glided over the new purple neoprene high up on her thigh.
His eyes rested where her hand was, then roamed up to her face, like he was checking to see what else might be amiss. When he seemed content that she was in one piece, he looked to the horizon. “Well, if you need anything more, the shed has supplies. You can help yourself.”
It was a kind offer. A month ago, she never could have imagined calling anything Will Darcy did kind. But since then he had moved from snob to decent human being, and she wasn’t sure how to react. It was easier when she thought she hated him. Now, it felt like they were almost friends.
Then he started paddling away.
“Hey! Where are you going?” she asked.
He turned to look at her from over his shoulder. “I can surf by the sandspit over there. Give you space.”
She blinked. The thought that he wouldn’t surf with her hadn’t even entered her mind. “Why don’t you just stay here?”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
She shrugged. “As long as you don’t steal my waves.”
A small, unpracticed smile tugged at his lips. “Technically, they’re my waves.”
“Technically, it’s a public beach.”
He chuckled. “All right. Then what do you suggest?”
She scrunched up her nose, considering. “Rock, Paper, Scissors.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You know, Rock—”
“I know the game. I just haven’t played it since grade school.”
“You clearly didn’t grow up with four sisters and only one car. This is how all my family’s problems are solved.”
Another chuckle. Deep and low, so she felt it in her belly.
“Okay, then.”
She smoothed back her wet hair, and lifted a hand. “Ready?”
“No cheating.”
“How exactly would I—”
“You just admitted you’ve had years of practice. Maybe even entered tournaments. I could be getting hustled.”
“You in or out?” she asked, trying to feign impatience, her board bobbing beneath her.
He frowned. “In.”
“Okay. Rock, paper, scissors,” she said as her fist hit her hand three times with each word. “Shoot!”
He looked confused for a moment but followed her lead.
“Paper beats rock,” she said triumphantly, flourishing her flat hand. “I win.”
She didn’t stick around to see if he would challenge it, just sprint-paddled to the break as a glistening wave approached. She positioned her board and stood, fighting for balance, riding low, and managing to steer to shallow waters. It was a perfect ride.
