Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Mar delivers Damon an amused look. “What a coincidence, you showing up.”
“Wonderful coincidence,” he says, smiling too hard.
I look between the two of them, and settle on Mar. “I’m beginning to see where he gets it.”
“Gets what?”
“His self-assurance and cheek. You two contrived this lunch date.”
“Why would we need to do that?” Damon muses. “We could have just arranged it.”
He has a point. But. I press my toes over the end of his steel bootcap. “You like dipping your paw into the fish tank. You like seeing how flustered I get.”
He leans in as if to say something, and kisses me.
I pull back, laughing. “One of these days I’ll surprise you right back.”
Maybe this Saturday, while he’s volunteer life-guarding. He’ll see me glide across the waves on my board and fall, just a wee bit, for real. “Would you be upset if I need a little longer for the curtains?”
“Take all the time you need.”
“Good. Great. I have another sewing project this week.”
Damon’s smile softens to something extremely satisfied. He takes my fork and picks food from my plate. He feeds himself, then holds a forkful to my lips. I eat it instinctively and hum. “What’s your favourite colour?”
Hailey sets down Damon’s order and flashes a smile, tightening her ponytail. “Hot pink, of course.”
My eyebrow quirks, and Damon rests an arm on the back of his chair. “She’s right.”
Mar hummed. “I had to paint one of his bedroom walls.”
I look at Damon. “None of your current walls are pink.”
“I was going for a different style. But I do miss it.”
Okay, hot pink. Check. He’ll definitely have no trouble spotting me whizzing around on a wave.
Mar leaves us to head to a dentist appointment, and when Damon’s done eating I walk him back to the school. We pause outside the scaffolded hall.
“Don’t worry if I’m not home when you finish work,” I say. “I’m going out with Carter.”
His blink is blunt, along with his next words. “Say, what?”
“The self-defence instructor?”
“I know who Carter is. Why are you going out with him?”
I bite my lip on a nervous chuckle. “I don’t want to tell you. It’ll put a jinx on it.”
“The more reason to tell me.”
“Damon.”
Damon runs a hand through his hair. “If this is like the other times . . .”
“This time is different.”
“I can help. Be your—” his voice breaks and he clears his throat, “wingman. Mate. Sous-chef. Whatever. How about it?”
I frown. “He’s just helping me out with something.”
Damon’s expression shifts a dozen times before he rocks back in his boots and nods. “Are you sure it’s nothing I can help you with?”
I grin. “Nope.”
He rubs his temples. “Will you let me know if you need me?”
I step between his feet, clasp his nape and kiss him. “Damn, I almost forgot. Again. We need to discuss bingo nights. Specifically, you offering yourself up as a prize.”
He’s frowning at me when I pull back.
“Get to work. I’ll traumatise you more tonight.”
I load boxes of Damon’s books into my car and call Troy about borrowing one of his surfboards while I’m there. His ‘yes’ is curious, but I don’t want Damon finding out about my plans.
A few hours later, Carter greets me on the sand. He’s wet, having already been in, while the wetsuit I’ve borrowed is dry and a little loose in awkward places. Carter checks out my board. “7’6 footboard. Great for a beginner.”
“How long do you think it’ll take to learn? YouTube says ten minutes.”
He grins. “In a rush, are you?”
“I’m hoping I’ll have it by Saturday.”
He leans against his board. “Yeah, okay. Some techniques are simple enough, it’s about getting them down.”
I start striding towards the ocean. “I’m ready.”
A hand grabs at the back of my suit and I step back again. “Your boyfriend will kill me if I don’t make you water wise first.”
“You talked to him?”
“Do I need to? Damon is extremely protective about what’s his. He’d never forgive me if you got hurt out there.”
I can see it, too. The way he treats his fish, Mar, Troy. Except . . .
“I’m not really his, though.” It spills out on a sigh and I slap a hand over my mouth. “Pretend you never heard that.”
Carter’s attention, however, is piqued. It’s in the lines of his smile, and the casual lean.
“He’s helping me out with my ex.” I give him a quick summary, ending with a determined stare at the ocean. “. . . So I need to shock him on Saturday.”
Carter grins. “I think I see what’s going on here. Right then, let’s get started.”
And get started, he does. He talks about the ocean and its currents and the power of the waves and when he’s sure I’ve understood, he makes us stretch and warm up, then practice popping up on the board on the sand. When I think we might never get into the water, he says it’s time and we paddle out. More rules about line up, and listening to your body. There’s a right way and a wrong way to fall off the board, and Carter makes sure I practice.