“Rowan says I’m a fast learner. She says I don’t get discouraged. She says—”
“She said ‘when your brain stops trying to beat the ocean and your body starts listening.’” Everett twirled the fork around the squid-ink pasta. “I do hear things between emails.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow in surprise. What do you know, hewaslistening.
The fact he’d heard one of her most important lessons and could recite it back made her body loosen. All those tight muscles to keep up her defenses during this dinner softened.
“Very good, Dad.” Kelsey beamed, then attacked another piece of pizza. Mozzarella stretched obscenely, tomatoes sweet and bright, basil torn and fragrant.
Rowan tried the squid-ink pasta next, a sleek black knot with breadcrumbs and little clams and a hit of garlic. Midnight streaked the bowl with every twirl. It tasted like the deepest part of the ocean, where light barely reached and treasures abounded. Kelsey finished her pizza and sampled the squid.
She grinned, mouth black. “Am I a goth now?”
“In a yellow dress?” Everett teased.
Rowan jumped in. “An optimistic goth.”
Everett gave in and smiled properly. For a moment, he looked like someone who might have once gone barefoot, danced in the rain, and kissed with his body and soul. Her stomach seized. He swiped his thumb along his bottom lip and left a smear of black.
“You have ...” Her hand lifted before she could leash the instinct, then dropped. What the hell was she doing? Time to back up from these strange feelings. “You have ink on your face.”
He stilled. Then wiped his full mouth, checked his napkin, and huffed a laugh. Why did the touch of embarrassment make him oddly human and more approachable? Heat skittered across her skin. She looked at the ceiling, then at Kelsey, then anywhere that wasn’t his mouth.
Finally, the table emptied of plates and conversation slowed. Kelsey slumped in her chair. “That was fire.”
“What did you like best?” Rowan asked.
A mischievous gleam sparked in her eyes. “The pizza.”
They all laughed, and it felt like they shared a moment.
“I have to pee,” Kelsey announced. “Don’t talk about me when I’m gone.”
“You have to go to the restroom,” Everett corrected. “It’s more polite.”
“Yes, Daaaaad.” Kelsey weaved between tables, braid swinging. Quiet settled between them. She suddenly wished she’d gone with Kelsey.
Everett wrapped his fingers around his Negroni. “I owe you an apology. For earlier.”
“Which part?”
He shook his head. “Not gonna make it easy, huh?”
A smile threatened. “Would you want me to?”
“Probably not. I’d be disappointed,” he muttered, tapping his finger against the edge of his glass. She briefly wondered how he’d touch a woman. Slow and light, with teasing caresses? Strong and bold, with an innate confidence that showed he knew about pleasure?
Rowan tried to refocus as he continued. “I treated you like an employee I could control. Meanwhile, my daughter looks at you like the sun, and this week she’s been happy. I appreciate you being kind to her.” He seemed to grope for the next words. “You’re good at what you do.”
She nodded and met him halfway. “You were protective. That’s your job. I’m ... not subtle.”
A twitch of amusement. “No. You’re not.”
She managed a shrug. “Subtlety isn’t rewarded with the waves.”
“But you don’t teach surfing anymore.” His curious stare pinned her down. She waited awhile, but he didn’t rush to fill the space. Probably another reason he was a master in business. “Why Kelsey?”
“I saw her hiding. Watching the young girls surf. She needed something. She looked lonely, like she wanted to belong. And I know how that feels.”
