“That’s a given.” I let the corner of my mouth slide up. “I’m talking about our plans for tomorrow morning.”
The slight wrinkle between her brows is impossibly sweet.
“We don’t have plans for—”
“Sure we do,” I interrupt.
Alex’s eyes narrow, but before she can argue with me, I say, “We get to break in my new wetsuit.”
Chapter 28
Alex
Ifigured that Tenny would live in a nice house. He’s in the middle of a multimillion-dollar contract, so I didn’t expect him to live in a one-bedroom apartment like me. The drive up to the oceanfront home is unimpressive because all the houses on the short residential street are snug against each other. His short driveway, hidden behind a gate and row of bushes and trees, leads to an unassuming three-car garage and a front door that looks more like a side entrance.
Clearly, this property wasn’t designed to entice people to gawk at it but rather for it to disappear into the dunes. Staring up at the three-story beauty while standing on the far edge of his back deck, however, is another story.
It’s breathtaking.
The bright-blue siding is accented by white trim, giving it an effortless, cheerful feel. Porches that you’d want to snuggle on wrap nearly every story except the third floor, which is peppered with private balconies. Huge windows take advantage of the expansive views without making the property look ostentatious. To be honest, I’ve never cared about gables or soffits a day in my life, but fixing my gaze on Tenny’s ginormous-yet-cozy house is the only thing keeping me from spiraling.
“Sorry,” he says, slightly out of breath.
I just keep my eyes on the house because Tenny contorting his body into a wetsuit is another thing I don’t need to focus on. It was bad enough that he answered the door barefoot, wearing nothing but snug swim trunks. That view is permanently burned into my memory, but it was the delighted gleam in Tenny’s eyes that I can’t stop thinking about—like his day was instantly better because I was here.
“Take your time.”
There’s a calm I don’t feel in my words, and I give myself a mental high five for holding it together.
Would I like to stare at Tenny’s biceps as he struggles to pull tight neoprene over his toned thighs? Abso-fricken-lutely. Do I think that’s good for me right now? No way. No how.
“Next time, I’ll do this before you get here.”
I’m unsure if there will be a next time, since I spent five years avoiding this exact situation, but Tenny spent so much time andmoney getting a custom wetsuit fitted, built, and rush-delivered that I feel like I owe him.
Though…maybe I don’t need to do this again for him to reuse it. Maybe Tenny will take up surfing and use his wetsuit on his mornings off. He could paddle out with the sunrise, catching a few good swells before having to report to the stadium.
A smile graces my lips at the calming thought.
I bet he’d be good on a board. Current convulsive wiggling aside, Tenny is a natural athlete. Graceful and strong with whip-fast reflexes. He could ride a barrel with the best of them. I’m guessing that if a wave took him down, he’d pop out of the water laughing.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I rotate toward the ocean while crossing my arms over my wetsuit.
The waves break in the distance before curling to shore—crumbly and weak. Their height is max two feet, so it’d be hard to get a ride without a longboard or foamie. My head tilts to the side, considering. I’d start Tenny on a foamie with mushy waves like this, but we’d have to get out here earlier, right after low tide. After he got the hang of it, we could progress to Croatan Beach or the surf spot by my apartment.
I never had a boyfriend who surfed before. That seems like an oversight, but it was intentional. The guys I’d dated were usually athletes of some variety, but I knew if we had to compete in the water, it wouldn’t end well. Most men’s fragile egos can’t handle being second best at anything.
My gaze drifts to Tenny as he tugs his wetsuit over his muscled arms. Somehow, I don’t think he’d be upset after being bested in the water. He’d probably just be happy to be out there.
“Have you ever wanted to learn to surf?”
“I never really thought about it,” he tells me, yanking on his pull cord to zip up the back of his suit. “It was a summer sport, and I was already pretty busy during that time.”
His dimpled smile settles the turbulent churning in my veins.
“Now that you have a wetsuit, you could surf in the offseason.”
Tenny rubs his jaw. “I guess so. Though my surf app says that the waves here aren’t very good except for first thing in the morning, so I’d have to go near your house or the beach on the other side of the inlet.”
