“You’re supposed to rub it on the board. Not evaluate its molecular structure.”
His mouth twitched. “I know what it’s for.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve been to a beach before.”
“In a suit?”
“Once or twice.” He set the wax down with deliberate care, lining it up with the others. “You organize these by scent or by price point?”
“By whatever makes Tino happy.” She was lying—she was relentless in her inventory and display skills, but he’d never believe her. Not that she cared.
“So, no system.”
“We have a system. You just don’t recognize it.”
Everett’s gaze slid to her, dark and assessing. Her stomach did a tiny dip as she was trapped by his sudden intense interest. “I’m starting to realize that about a lot of things here.”
The words landed with more weight than they should have. She picked up a leash from the counter and began coiling it. “Must be hard for you, not having everything labeled and color coded.”
“Must be nice for you,” he countered, “not being accountable to anyone.”
Her hands stilled. “Excuse me?”
He gestured around the shop. “This. The whole beachside minimalist thing you’ve got going. No boss. No schedule. No pressure to actually build something.”
Heat flared in her chest. “I help Tino build boards. Custom work. Each one takes weeks.”
“For what? A few hundred dollars?”
“For someone’s dream,” she shot back. “Not everything’s about profit margins.”
“No,” he agreed. “Some things are about hiding.”
The words hit like a slap. Rowan straightened, the leash forgotten in her hands. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Everett took a step closer. Then another. The shop was small and he made it smaller—broad shoulders blocking the light, the scent of his smoky cologne drifting to her nostrils. Something expensive and wrong for this place. Wrong for her.
“Kelsey told me you were ranked in the top ten. Sponsorships. Magazine covers. And now you’re what? Stocking sunscreen.”
Her throat went tight. “I got injured.”
“A year ago.”
Rowan’s hands fisted. She wanted to shove him. Wanted to tell him to get the hell out of her shop, her space, her life. But he was standing close enough now that she could see the clean line of his jaw; the sharp slash of his nose; the small scar near his eyebrow that kept him from being too perfect. The way his pulse jumped in his throat when she lifted her chin.
What was happening here?
Her voice iced over. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you gave up.”
She gave a laugh then, back in control. He’d pushed as far as she’d allow. “I know when to let go.” She took a step forward, closing the gap until they were nearly chest to chest. “You hold on too tight. Must be exhausting building your empire. Controlling every detail. Firing people for being five minutes late. What happens when something breaks that you can’t fix?”
His teeth ground together. “I don’t let things break.”
The line hit her full force, the heat of his words sinking into her skin. “Everyone breaks.”
