It was a new start. And she was almost ready.
Chapter Twenty
Rowan loved the way the North Shore greeted her like a dog-eared book she knew by heart. Chun’s Reef was a favorite spot. The sets were fat and patient, with the water tipping from turquoise to deep blue where the reef dropped away and glittered. The trade winds kicked up the smell of salt, reef at low tide, and grilled meat, drifting across the highway from the food trucks. A diesel tang rode underneath.
Rowan took it all in, excited to share her second home with the two people next to her.
She parked Tino’s battered van along a strip of dirt by the ironwood trees, like everyone else. Towels fluttered from cracked windows to dry in the wind. Surfboards sat strapped to roofs with frayed bungee cords, their wax melting a little in the late-morning heat. The sun was bold and smug in a perfect blue sky, and the sand burned underfoot.
Rowan slid out and stretched. Knee felt tight, but not too bad. She rubbed it, the old ache reminding her of that fateful day of loss. She wondered if it was time to think of it like a familiar friend. Her father always advised how the mind could speed up healing by a simple perspective shift. Maybe she was finally ready to try it.
“Whoa.” Kelsey’s voice was pure awe. Her ash-blond hair flew around her face, and her braces flashed bright blue when she smiled. She wore a yellow dress over her swimsuit and tan flip-flops. “It looks like a postcard.”
“It is,” Rowan said. “It’s just got sand in the corners.”
Everett stepped out of the van. The white T-shirt was Calvin Klein and stretched across his shoulders and chest. The board shorts were simple black, somehow making them look like business wear in the elegant way he wore them. He looked wrong and right here at the same time. His onyx hair had gotten wind-tousled, the short cut defying order in the breeze. The ocean light turned his dark eyes nearly black. He squinted, scanned the beach, and a corner of his mouth tipped up, like he was amused and trying not to show it.
He should’ve looked ridiculous—six two of designer suits and schedules dropped into a casual surf world—but he didn’t. He just looked like a man who was trying.
And sexy.
“It’s hot as Hades,” he said.
Rowan grinned. “That trip isn’t on my destination map, but the trade winds are doing their best.” Kelsey laughed and Everett shook his head. “Come on. I want to show her the inside break. Good day for it. She won’t get pummeled.”
He winced.Pummeledwas not a word suits or fathers liked. He narrowed his gaze, and she widened her eyes with innocence. Rowan adored sparring with him, both in and out of the bedroom.
They crossed the sand. Rowan’s flip-flops squeaked and flung little bursts of heat against her soles. A group of longboarders sat beyond the inside section, legs straddled over their boards, chatting and waiting. The sets rolled in with a lazy slowness, but Rowan understood it was a ruse. The North Shore was unforgiving, but she knew how to keep Kelsey safe and still give her a thrill.
Kelsey crouched to dig her hands into the sand. “It’s so soft. Like flour.”
“It’s coral ground down over a few million years,” Rowan said. “So technically, you’re playing in fish poop.”
Kelsey shrieked with laughter. “Rowan!”
Everett shot her a mock glare. “Great. I’m letting my daughter swim in excrement.”
“You’ll live, Suit.”
He gave her a look that landed somewhere between a glare and a smirk. “You keep calling me that, I’m putting it on my next business card.” The heat between them ebbed and rose like the waves. She was getting addicted.
Kelsey kicked off her sandals next to the bag, peeled off the dress, and bounced on her toes. “I’m ready!”
“Let me wax up the board,” Rowan said. She’d brought the blue soft-top from Tino’s, perfect for learning. She worked the wax in tight circles, felt the familiar drag under her palm, smelled coconut from someone’s sunscreen. The wax stuck to her fingers, and she wiped them on her shorts.
Everett watched with curiosity and the normal wariness of a non-surfer. “You’re good to take her?” he asked.
Rowan met his gaze with seriousness. “I’ve got her. Safety is my number one priority. Inside, small waves. We’ll stay far from the rocks, and you can watch from there.” She pointed to a spot near the palm shade and the picnic tables. “You’ll see everything.”
His mouth twitched. “I’ll try not to shout advice from the shore.”
“You can shout encouragement,” Kelsey piped, then linked her arm through Rowan’s. “He’s good at encouragement. He asks me questions after, though. Like three hundred questions.”
Rowan laughed. “We can ration him. Let’s go, surf girl.”
They waded in and the water wrapped their calves cool and slick. Rowan felt the tug of the current threading over the sand, a reminder that even the inside at North Shore had its moods. She guided the board and made sure Kelsey got her hands placed right. “Prone first. Feel where your chest should be. Find your sweet spot. No sitting on the back end—you’ll stall it.”
“I won’t,” Kelsey said solemnly. She lay flat, chin up, eyes big but steady. Her pop-ups were now second level because of her dedicated hours of practice and her hunger to master the move.
