Everett’s nose wrinkled. “Wash your hands after, please. We better head out. I have an early morning.”
“It’s not even sunset. Can’t we stay a little longer?”
“Sorry, Kels. I’ve been out since six and still have things to do.”
Rowan watched the girl struggle but give up. Her shoulders dropped. “Okay.” She disappeared into the shop to get her stuff. Bagel twitched his nose and hopped after her. Everett seemed to be waiting for Rowan to make a sarcastic comment, but she remained quiet. As Kelsey came back out, Brie and the girls gave a whoop and grabbed their boards.
“It’s almost sunset. Let’s ride them in!” Brie shouted. They raced over the beach, kicking up sand—a flash of brown limbs, bikinis, and joy. Kelsey gave them one last longing look, then walked to Rowan.
“Thanks for letting me help today,” she said quietly. “Sorry if I bothered you.”
Rowan gave her a quick hug. “You don’t bother me. Listen, I want to set you up for surf lessons with my friend Pamela. She’s a great teacher.”
Kelsey gave a small smile. “Thanks, but no. I’m not meant to surf. I don’t want to try again with a stranger.”
Everett spoke up. “Surfing can be dangerous, anyway. There are better ways to spend your time than chasing waves for no reason. They have a tennis court close. I’ll book you a few lessons so you’ll be fresh when you get back home. Nice to meet you, Rowan. Have a good summer.”
His dismissal was clear. Rowan bristled, fighting the impulse to lose her temper and tell this infuriating man all the things he didn’t know. But Kelsey was already walking away. The previous happy energy was now gone, like the air out of a balloon. With every step, Rowan watched her shoulders drop a bit more, until she disappeared.
Dammit. This was not her problem or her fight. Kelsey would find her way. Maybe she’d make a few friends on the island. It was only temporary. In a few months, she’d be back in New York, at her prep school, and Hawaii would be a distant summer memory. Just like Rowan.
The ache in Rowan’s knee pulsed with the tide. Old habit had her shift weight to her right leg, foot digging into the cool top layer of sand to find steadiness. The breeze carried brine and charred pineapple. Someone’s Bluetooth speaker went tinny and then mercifully died.
The lanterns threw soft circles of light that couldn’t compete with the orange smear of the oncoming sunset.
“Ro.”
She didn’t have to turn to know. The syllable slid down her spine, the husky tone familiar. She turned anyway and felt her throat do that strange catch—like going under and forgetting to exhale. Lea stood a few yards away, hands shoved into the pockets of cutoff jeans. Brown hair was twisted in her usual braids. Barefoot, dusted with sand, her easy posture contradicted the air of wariness that emanated from her. Eyes the color of polished slate surveyed her, mouth unsmiling. As if she was afraid to give too much away.
Rowan noticed her T-shirt proclaimed Luana Boards was her new sponsor. Irritation rose. As Tino’s competitor, it was a shitty move. She’d expected more of Lea, but then again, she hadn’t seen her in months.
It had been easier to let her go. They weren’t in the same world anymore.
“You staying for the cleanup crew?” Rowan tried, because deflection was a muscle she’d built up to a perfect carve.
Lea glanced at the trail where Kelsey had vanished. “Who’s the girl?”
Rowan shrugged. “Just a tourist kid.”
“Uh-huh.” Lea took a step closer. The distance between them tasted like a rip. “She’s got that look. I caught her staring at Brie and everyone when we were out.”
“What look?”
Lea’s mouth softened, just for a second. “The first time you smell a board and your whole chest goes weird. The first time the ocean calls you by your name.” She met Rowan’s eyes. “What’s her story?”
“Her dad’s staying for the summer. He’s building some luxury hotel,” Rowan said. It came out flat. “She wandered into Tino’s. Asked about surf lessons. That’s all.”
“And you told her no.”
Rowan’s stomach tightened. “I told her I don’t teach.”
“I heard,” Lea said. She tipped her head toward the tables where the remnants of the party lingered. “You turned down a kid who wants to surf. You?”
Rowan blew out an annoyed breath. “I’m trying to get her to take lessons from Pam. She’s perfect with beginners.”
“Unbelievable.” Lea spread her hands, palms up, all that clean, strong surfer’s confidence honed by years of balancing on knife water. “You used to stay out with the groms until their lips were blue. You’d coach them through standing, wipe out with them on purpose so they wouldn’t be scared. You used to love teaching groms. What happened to you?”
It shouldn’t have landed like a punch, but it did. Air left Rowan’s lungs. She gripped the hem of her T-shirt, fingers pinching into the cotton.
