The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(11)

I nodded. Right. Okay. One step at a time. Right now, I was putting on the wetsuit. I wasn’t surfing or getting thrown face first into the ocean or getting eaten by a whale. I wasn’t coughing up seawater or heaving for breath. I was just putting on a wetsuit.

I turned at the door. “I don’t see what surfing has to do with being a hot girl—”

“My. Rules.”

“Okay, okay.” I spun around again and stepped into the little building. It was dark without the lights on, and I found a small room that looked like it was for changing. I pulled on my swimsuit, a navy blue one-piece with a front that dipped too low for my taste and cut outs along the side. Avery had made me buy it last year and I’d never worn it. I should have worn something more practical but this was the only suit I owned, and it wasn’t like I had a lot of time to prepare.

With some effort, I pulled the bottom half of the wetsuit on. The fabric was thick, spongy, and I wondered how many people had peed in this suit. How often did they clean them?

Nope, not worrying, I told myself. Just going to go outside. That was the next step.

“Well, look at you.” Wyatt gave me a lopsided grin and straightened up. His gaze flicked down to the low neckline of my suit and my face heated immediately. He spun his finger in the air. “Turn.”

I gave him my back and slid my arms into the suit. He pulled it closed at the back, not roughly or forcefully but with authority. Like he’d done this a hundred times. Like he didn’t want to wait for me. Like he was in charge.

My skin tingled with awareness, but I ignored it.

He pulled the zipper up quickly and I wondered what it would be like in reverse, Wyatt yanking the zipper down as fast as he could, impatient to get it off me.

My face burned. I couldn’t turn around now, blushing like this.

I swallowed and thought about the frigid water around the corner that I would soon be stepping into. There. That was helping.

I hoped these fantasies about Wyatt would go away. Maybe the more I got to know him, the more my body would realize what my brain already knew, that Wyatt was all wrong for me.

“Leave your glasses here.” Wyatt hopped down the steps and strode across the gravel the same way I arrived, before disappearing around the corner of the surf shop. I watched his tall, lean form, hypnotized with the fluid way he moved, before I set my glasses on the side of the step and hurried after him. I couldn’t see very well without them, but I could still make out his form in front of me, moving across the sand with enthusiasm and long strides.

Two boards laid on the sand near the shore. I automatically stood near the smaller, sleeker board. The other one was huge and all banged up with marks and scratches.

“No way.” He shook his head and gestured for me to stand near the bigger board. “You get the crappy starter board today, bookworm.” He crouched near the bigger board pointed at a strap of velcro tethered to the bottom of the board and gestured for me to come forward. “This is your leash,” he told me, and he undid the velcro before fastening it around my ankle. One of his hands encircled my ankle and the warm contact of his skin shocked me.

If he ran that warm, no wonder the guy was always shirtless.

The contact ended before my thought did and he strode over to fasten his own leash before he laid down on his front on the board, head up and watching the ocean.

“This is the ready position.” He tilted his chin at me, gesturing for me to do the same. “Come on.”

I matched his position on my own board.

He braced his palms on the board beside his shoulders. “If you see a wave coming that you want to take a bite out of, you’re going to hop up on your board like this.” He sprung up so he stood in a balanced crouch, before he glanced over his shoulder at me. “Your turn.”

I copied his actions, but there was no way I made it look as easy as he did. I looked like a drunk baby deer, stumbling around and trying to find my balance.

He glanced at my legs. “Bend your knees more.” He nodded when I did. “Good. Okay.” He shrugged. “And then you try to stay on your board and ride the wave.”

I blinked at him. “It’s that easy?”

That lazy grin returned. “It’s not, but it’s something you learn by doing.” He stepped off the board and picked it up, tucking it under his arm. “Let’s go.” He began to jog to the ocean.

Alarm shot through me. “Wait!” I called after him. “I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never be ready, bookworm,” he called back before wading into the water. “Come on.”

He started paddling, and I watched his blurry form cut through the water. It was like the ocean drew him forward.

The board was lighter than I expected, but the water was as cold as I anticipated. I winced and inhaled sharply. Gentle waves rolled in, and I followed Wyatt deeper and deeper until he paused and waited for me, laying on his board—no, lounging on his board. It was like he was lying on the couch.

He watched with amusement as I made a few failed attempts to lay on the board. It was trickier on the water, and the board kept moving under me. My face flushed with embarrassment. Finally, I managed to lay on the board. When I started to float away from him, he reached out and held my board, anchoring me to him.

“We’re going to paddle. Do what I do, okay?”

I nodded, swallowing, and he let go of my board before he paddled further out into the water against the waves, muscular arms dipping into the water to propel him forward.