“Yeah, but not until two.”
“All right. Help me carry these bags to the far end of the beach.” He nods south, where one of the cliff’s rock faces juts into the ocean, rounding out the cove. “My girls are going to paddleboard for a while, and you and I can work on that god-awful bottom turn of yours.”
Fuck. I really don’t feel like getting critiqued by Leo GrahamandLivia Costa-Ramos when there are other people around. “I don’t think?—”
“Oh, so you do have an attitude problem, then?” He raises a brow. “You’re going to let a seven-time World Champion and anOlympic gold medalist critique you—and then argue with them about their notes?”
“Nope.” I pop the end of the word as I grab the bag at his feet and toss it over my shoulder.
I assist him in blowing up the inflatable paddleboards and putting together the oars as the girls continue their conversation with Liv. Once we’re finished and they meet us at the end of the cove, Leo kisses his wife before turning to me. “You met her briefly when you were younger, but this is Darby.”
“Nice to meet you.” I extend my arm to shake her hand, and she returns it.
It’s fucking uncanny how much Willow looks like her mom. Aside from the difference in eye color, and some aging around her eyes and mouth—smile lines, mostly—every other feature could have me confusing them for sisters. Their hair and lips. The way their noses crinkle when they smile.
“I’m so happy to have you staying here, Weston,” she says softly, and I wonder if she’s ever considered voice acting for Disney princesses. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”
I nod, but the look her husband flashes me tells me I should avoid inconveniencing this woman at all costs.
“And I know you’ve met Willow already.” There is an edge to his voice that slithers down my spine in an uncomfortable way.
“Yeah,” I breathe, but it kind of gets stuck in my throat—because when I look at her, she’s pulling the white dress she wore down to the beach over her head, and I’m greeted with miles upon miles of fair, exposed skin. She’s covered by a total of three pink triangles—one at the center of her thighs, and two over her chest. All of which could fit into the palm of my hand. I never noticed how athletic she was before, but she’s outrageously toned. I assumed she wasn’t an athlete because it doesn’t seem like she surfs competitively, but there is no waythat body isn’t the product of some kind of intense training. I rarely notice anyone’s body, but I’m afraid I’ll nevernotnotice hers again.
“You look good.”
The dress falls at her feet, and when my eyes track back up her body to her face, hers are wide—horrified, in fact—darting back and forth between her father and me.
Fuck. Did I say that out loud?
The aggressive clearing of Leo’s throat answers me, and I’m terrified to look at him.
“I just meant...” I stumble over my words, backtracking. “Because Monday you...” I don’t know if her parents know she was crying on the beach at six in the morning.
“I’m feeling better. Thank you.” She smiles, and her cheeks are as red as I imagine mine are right now.
“Great.” Leo claps me on the back harder than necessary, spinning me in the opposite direction. “Let’s get to work, kid.”
“Do you thinkyou’re comfortable enough to be here alone for a little while? My daughter is only in town for one more night, and I want to see her before she leaves.”
I glance up from where I’m folding T-shirts at the register, finding Everett peering down at me over his sunglasses, hands on his hips. He’s a menacingly large man—broad chest and wide shoulders, tattoos running from his neck to his hands, the faded ink only making them look cooler and more intimidating. His salt-and-pepper hair is grown out and feathered behind his ears, his short beard the same color.
When his lips form a flat line, he appears well and truly frightening, but I’ve heard him laugh before. I’ve seen himinteract with his wife. I think he’s soft-hearted, but he does kind of look like he could kick my ass if he wanted to.
“I think I’ll be fine,” I say.
Working at Heathen’s is easy enough. All their merchandise is pre-populated in the register, which is simple to operate. When it’s slow, I fold clothing or dust shelves. When people come with questions about surfing or boards, I’m expected to be an expert—and that’s not a problem for me either. Plus, it’s four o’clock on a Friday afternoon, so it’s slow as hell.
I’m just lucky to have an official job. I’m on payroll, I pay taxes. It’s something I can put on my resume, in addition to assisting Carter, that will help overlook my record. It’s something I can show for myself other than being a failed surfer, in the event I end up failing again.
“Great.” Before I can register the movement of his hand dipping into his pocket, a bundle of keys is in the air, flying at me. When I reach out and catch them, Everett smiles. “Good reflexes.”
I shrug, slipping the key ring into my back pocket.
“Close down around seven. Make sure you lock both the back and front doors, and the office upstairs. If you need anything, text me.”
“Have a good night.” I wave him off, turning back to the T-shirts on the counter.
His footsteps shuffle over the tile when the bells on the front door chime. “Hey, kid.”
