The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(43)

It didn’t feel wrong, but I knew better.

When I returned home that morning, my mom sat on the front steps, drinking a coffee with two on the deck beside her.

“Hey, Mom,” I called to her.

“Good morning, honey.” She reached for the coffee and handed it to me. “No Hannah today?”

“Thanks.” I took a sip and shook my head. “Not today. Tomorrow.”

She smiled softly and raised an eyebrow. “You two have been spending a lot of time together.”

I took a seat beside her and shrugged. “I’ve been giving her surf lessons.”

She made a humming noise of acknowledgement. “And the farmer’s market?”

I didn’t answer her. Elizabeth was perceptive like a hawk. My chest twisted hard and I knew she knew. She knew I thought about Hannah like that. I didn’t want to talk about it with her, though. Hannah was special and private right now. That hesitation I thought about in the water, with my history versus hers? Talking about Hannah meant people would point that out to me. I shrugged again.

She took another sip of her coffee and studied the ocean. “Hannah is a very sweet girl.”

I thought about the way Hannah had ground herself against me last night. Not that sweet.

“She hasn’t had it easy, since Claire passed. It’s been hard on her and Frank, just the two of them.”

Irritation prickled at the back of my neck. “You know she runs the bookstore basically on her own?”

She paused. “No. I thought Frank and her ran it together.”

“He’s stepped back in the past few years. She runs the entire business by herself.” I gestured at the water. “She got up on her board last week. She surfed. She’s terrible at surfing. She has zero balance.” I shook my head. “But she kept trying and got up on her board and caught a wave.” My words rushed out with an edge to them. “She’s not this wimpy little flower.”

My mom’s head reared back. “I didn’t say she was.”

“She works hard and she doesn’t give up. People don’t give her enough credit.”

She watched me, a little knowing grin growing on her face.

Busted.

I rolled my eyes, but a grin grew on my face too. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re friends.”

It tasted wrong, saying it.

“Hmm.” She leaned back on her hands, studying the sparkling ocean. “Friends.”

“Yep.”

We were quiet for a few moments.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that brain of yours, Wy.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “I never have. You’re like the water in that way, it’s hard to see under the surface.” She pressed her mouth into a line, nodding. “You were always so fearless.” She laughed and rubbed her forehead. “Sweetheart, the years you have taken off my life with your stunts out there.”

A smile lifted on my face.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just hope you apply that same fearlessness to all aspects of your life.”

I frowned. “Okay.” What?

“What time is it?” She checked her phone and hopped up. “Avery’s mother and I are going to visit Katherine and do some gardening.” Katherine Waters owned an inn, The Water’s Edge, and the past few years, she had been sick. People in town helped her out around the inn, fixing leaking taps and weeding the garden. Holden had worked there for a few summers as a teenager and still dropped by often.

My mom stood and dusted off her pants. “Family dinner on Sunday. Bring Hannah. I want more women around.” I opened my mouth—to say what?—but she was already down the walkway and out of my front yard. “Bye, honey!”

“Bye, Mom.”

I sat there a few minutes, staring at the water, before getting up and heading inside. I had a missed call and a voicemail on my phone.

“Hey Wyatt, this is Emilio Sanchez with Billabong. Saw you compete in Australia last year and loved what I saw. It’s obvious that you have a presence in the surfing world, seeing how your social media has taken off. I’d like to speak to you about being part of the Billabong team. We’ll be out in Queen’s Cove for the Pacific Rim Worlds. Call me back.”

I listened to the message a couple times, sitting on the step and staring at my phone.

Whatever Hannah was doing on social media, it was working. It was happening.

Surfing the best spots in the world. Surfing every day. The rush of catching powerful, crashing waves. I blew a shaky breath out. This was what I always wanted.

So why was my chest tight and weird like this?





13





Hannah





Nerves rolled through my stomach as I stepped through the back door of the surf shop to grab a wetsuit. I had been to the surf shop enough times now to feel comfortable walking right in, even at six in the morning, so I headed straight to where the wetsuits in my size hung on the rack.

“Not that one,” Wyatt said behind me. His voice was still gravely with sleep.

The nerves pitched in my stomach and that gravelly voice traveled right down to my toes. The last time I had heard that tone, his mouth had pressed against mine and he was taking it, claiming my mouth like it belonged to him.