“Okay. Thank you.”
“No problem. What do you want with ’em?”
“Anything’s fine.”
“Siren,” I said sternly.
“Baked potatoes and Caesar salad,” she said instantly.
I chuckled. “Done. See you in a couple hours.”
She hesitated. “Okay.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
I heard her intake of breath. “I should probably tell you—”
“Dude!” Braige walked in. “Where’s my board?” He flipped his white-blond hair and scanned my shop. Two of his surfing buddies trailed in behind him. “Tahiti’s calling, brah. I need some action.”
“Siren, hold on a sec.” I held a hand up to Braige.
“No, it’s okay. Go ahead. You’re at work.”
I turned my back to Braige and the guys. “I got time.” For her, I’d make the time.
“I’ll just see you later.”
“You sure?” I wanted to know what she was going to say.
“Yes.”
Shit. “All right. See you tonight.” I hung up and turned to Braige.
“Talking to a hottie?” Braige grinned, his blue eyes full of the type of mischief chicks dug.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I smirked.
Braige only cared about two things, surfing and women. Most of the time, I was glad to see his crazy ass. We’d either hit the waves or the bars. He’d taught me a few things on the water and he spent mad cash on my boards. He’d also recommended me to everyone he knew and despite his various endorsements, he used my boards almost exclusively.
“Oh, oh!” He laughed. “She must be blazing if you’re setting up some afternoon love. Surf’s up, dude.”
I shook my head. “I gotta finish a board for some washed-up shredder.”
His eyes went wide then he burst out laughing. “You wish you had my skills.”
I’d surfed Mavericks and the North Shore with him. He was fucking fearless on the water. “You’re probably right. But someone’s gotta keep makin’ you boards.”
“Truth.” He nodded seriously. “So.” He looked at the surfboards lined up on the back wall. “Where’s my new board?”
“Workin’ on it. Gimme a couple days.”
His faced screwed up. “Braaah.” He exhaled. “You know there’s weather coming to the South Pacific.” He gestured at the other two surfers in the front of the shop trying on sunglasses. “We’re flying out soon. I wanna bring my latest girl.”
“It’ll be ready in time. If not, you can pick whatever you want from stock.”
“I got a better idea.” He smiled.
Christ. “What?” I asked but I knew what was coming. He’d been bugging me for six months to let him make his own board.
“You know what.” He grinned wider.
“Get the fuck outta here. You can make your own boards when you get your own shop.” My tools, my rules.
“Never say never, dude.” He laughed again and left with a promise to call in a couple of days.
By seven I was grilling steaks on my deck while Nic stood at the railing.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said wistfully.
I stared at her ass. She’d been melancholy as fuck since I’d gotten home and we’d been dancing around each other. “Gorgeous,” I commented, tipping the beer to my lips. The ice-cold carbonation was doing nothing to quench the desire ripping through my veins. “You never told me what you were gonna say.”
“When?”
“On the phone earlier.”
She was quiet a moment. “I was just going to thank you…for this afternoon.” She turned to face me. “Your house is amazing.”
Instinct told me she was lying, the way she paused when she spoke, the tone of her voice going quieter, but I let it go because it might’ve simply been her inexperience with men showing. “I can’t take the credit.” I flipped the steaks. “I got a friend who’s a contractor. He gutted the place and redid it after I bought it.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Almost two years.” When most women found out I had beachfront property, they wanted to know the size of my bank account but I couldn’t tell if Siren was fishing. She didn’t do small talk but her tone of voice was the most casual I’d ever heard.
“Oceanfront property isn’t cheap. Your surf shop must do well.”
She was fishing. “Can’t complain.” The shop held its own but it sure as shit didn’t pay for the house. My ex-wife had. Leigh had left me everything when she’d died. A few months after her death, I’d bought the business and the house. It hadn’t even made a dent in what I’d inherited.