“I showed up today for your surfing lesson. I’m doing my best.”
Rowan saw Kelsey struggle to communicate. Her heart ached watching her try to put feelings into words when her hormones were probably kicking her in the teeth. “I know. Sorry.”
A muscle jumped in Everett’s jaw. She felt a bit sorry for him, but seeing Kelsey jumbled up, not able to truly speak, made her chest hurt. What was she doing stuck in the middle of this? And why did she care so much?
They were all saved from awkward silence when the food came, first fast, then slow—the way good kitchens do. The calamari were crisp and tender, thick rings and little tentacles dusted in paprika. Small plates dropped in waves. The seared beef tenderloin looked like a steak got dressed up for a royal ball with the pat of foie gras perched on top like a fancy hat, full of velvety richness. Shrimp sizzled with clouds of garlic and chili rising in the air. Everett broke off a piece of bread, dipped it, and took a slow bite. She watched him eat and tried not to be distracted by those full lips and the interesting expression on his face as he took in the flavors.
Everett chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then nodded. “I approve. The bread could be thicker.”
She couldn’t help the words that popped out. “You want to make the dish less interesting?”
He tilted his head. “I want structure.”
His cashmere voice contradicted his steel spine. She had no problem with structure. It was needed to teach surfing, but eventually, chaos would come for its price. Most wanted to touch the chaos and go home tidy.
She’d tried that once. It hadn’t worked.
Rowan pushed the thought aside and focused on the real star of the table. Two canoe bones roasted, fat shimmering, with a bright green scatter of parsley and lemon zest.
She began to eat fast, then slow, mirroring the kitchen. Paper-thin slices ofjamón de bellotaglistened on the plate, the salty, nutty flavor exploding in her mouth. A pan of saffron-stained rice arrived studded with shrimp, mussels, clams, and smoky chorizo—like someone had scooped up a piece of the coastline and served it sizzling. One by one, she sampled each plate, taking time to savor each bite.
When she looked up to wipe her chin, she found Everett watching her, gaze narrowed as if studying her for a later exam.
Rowan took another sip of her cocktail and tried to ignore it.
Kelsey tried thejamón de bellotawith trepidation, but stuck to the deal. After a few bites, she brightened. “Okay, that’s not bad!”
“It’s ham,” Everett said, deadpan.
“It’s new,” Kelsey pointed out.
Everett took a slice. “Eat it slowly. It’s meant to melt,” Rowan said.
He gave her a long stare. “You’re giving me instructions on eating now?”
“Only because you chew like you’re negotiating a merger.”
Kelsey giggled. Rowan grinned and reached for the bones, scooping marrow with a tiny spoon, letting it melt. Butter and lemon zest and parsley danced on her tongue. She made a small, involuntary sound in her throat. Everett’s eyes darkened and then shuttered. His throat worked when he swallowed, a tight little movement she pretended not to track.
Kelsey’s voice ripped her from the intimate moment. “Rowan, did you always, like ... eat things like this? With your dad?”
Rowan’s fork paused above the paella. She kept her eyes on the food, the one thing she knew how to talk to. “We ate things. He would try one weird thing at every place. Sometimes he hated it. The point was trying. He used to call it ‘expanding his ocean.’”
“Did he also surf?” Kelsey asked.
There was something about the frankly direct question that eased the tightness in her chest. “Yes. He was well known on the circuit and began teaching me when I was young. We were originally in California, but we moved here when I was five. To chase the waves, he told me.”
Kelsey propped her chin in her hand, fully attentive. “Wow, so cool. I can’t imagine surfing so little. Was he a good teacher?”
“The best. He knew when to be patient and when to push. We had a harder time of it since he was my dad. I always wished he’d treat me like other students but looking back, I’m not sure why I expected it. Family is different. He had a bigger investment.”
“Did you always want to surf?” Everett asked curiously.
“Yes. I can’t remember wanting to do anything else. I can still hear my father’s voice, and his endless lectures about the ocean. He’d tell everyone these embarrassing stories—leading every answer back to the water. And he had a strong voice that carried. Everyone stopped to listen when he spoke.”
“I bet you sound like him.” She turned in surprise to Everett. “Not the volume. The quality. You’re quiet, yet people are drawn to listen. It must be a gift he passed on.”
The words jolted through her like a shock. She suddenly felt vulnerable, in this dining room, across from this man who made her feel things she thought were dead. Rowan managed a nod, reached for her drink, and thankfully, Kelsey changed the subject. The girl chattered and the rest of the meal flowed.
