Beneath the Surface (Surf Sister #2)

CHAPTER 1

Marina

MARINA STOOD BEHIND the bar, wiping down the dark wood counter while keeping an eye on the dining room.

Monday evenings were usually quiet at Harbor Beacon. Not empty, but quiet.

A group of college-aged tourists occupied a table in the corner, their laughter occasionally rising above the hum of conversation.

Several couples sat at two-tops along the wall, lingering over drinks and seafood baskets.

At the bar, locals mixed with visitors in the easy way they always did in Cliff Harbor.

Marina could usually tell which was which within seconds.

The locals carried themselves differently. More relaxed. More certain of where they belonged. The tourists looked around. They studied the photographs on the walls, the old nautical instruments, the fishing nets hanging from the ceiling. They treated the place like part of the vacation.

Most of them would be gone in a few days. Quite a few came from Silicon Valley. Katrina called them tech bros.

Marina wasn't quite that cynical, but after spending enough years tending bar, she had learned to recognize them.

Successful. Ambitious. Usually polite. Usually temporary.

She set aside the rag and reached for another glass just as the front door opened.

A man stepped inside. Marina glanced up, then looked again.

Interesting.

The man made his way to the bar, finding an empty stool near the middle. As he studied the row of taps, Marina walked over.

"What can I get you?"

He looked up and seemed momentarily surprised. His bright hazel eyes swept over her, taking her in before settling briefly on her name tag that read Mara.

Marina felt an unexpected tug beneath her ribs.

Face to face, the man was handsome. No doubt about it. Yet that wasn't what caught her attention.

It was the weariness in his eyes. The hint of longing beneath it.

Something in his expression softened, as though he was unexpectedly pleased to find another person at the end of a long day.

The thought flattered her.

For a fleeting moment, Marina had the strange impression that he looked at her the way a sailor might look at a beacon after a long night at sea.

Stop it, she chided herself. This is ridiculous.

The man cleared his throat. "Uh, what would you recommend?"

He didn't sound nearly as confident as she would have expected.

That surprised her too. And somehow made him more likable.

Marina grinned. "Depends. You look like you've had a long day. Food or just a drink?"

He frowned slightly, his brows drawing together as though it were a question worth serious consideration. "Both, I think. I haven't eaten yet."

Nerd. Definitely a nerd, not a farmer.

Marina stifled a laugh. Suddenly she had the urge to tease him. "That's how bad decisions start," she said.

He smiled. "You might be right."

His smile caught her off guard. For a second, she forgot what she had been about to say next.

Then she recovered. "Just kidding. You like beer? We've got a good local IPA on tap. And the fish tacos here are actually worth eating, unlike half the places in town charging twenty bucks for dry cod and canned salsa."

His smile widened. "Sold on both counts."

"Coming right up, stranger." She grabbed a glass and pulled the tap in one fluid motion. "You passing through or staying a while?"

"Staying. For a week, actually."

"A week?" Marina said. "That's practically moving in by tourist standards."

She slid a menu toward him. "I'll put those tacos in, but take a look in case you want anything else."

He thanked her, and she stepped over to the kitchen window to put in the order.

When she returned a few minutes later, he was still studying the menu despite having already decided what he wanted.

Definitely a nerd.

Marina leaned against the counter opposite him. "So where are you escaping from?"

He looked up. "Is it that obvious I'm escaping?"

She shrugged. "People come to Cliff Harbor for three reasons. They're lost, they're hiding, or they're escaping."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You don't look lost," she continued. "And you're sitting at the bar talking to strangers instead of hiding in a dark corner, so I'm going with escaping."

His laugh came easier this time. "San Jose. Work, mainly."

The answer extinguished some of her enthusiasm. Of course. Silicon Valley. Tech.

Exactly the sort of man she had promised herself not to be interested in.

"Ah," she said. "Tech?"

His expression immediately confirmed it. Marina pointed toward his shoulder. "The laptop-bag-shaped indentation gave you away."

That earned another laugh.

For some reason, she enjoyed making him laugh. A little more than she should have.

"But San Jose isn't your original home," she said. "Your accent slips out on certain words."

He looked surprised. "Good ear. Texas. Born and raised."

Marina smiled. So she hadn't imagined it. There had been something about him from the moment he walked through the door. The broad shoulders. The easy way he carried himself. The impression that he belonged outdoors, even if he now spent his days behind a computer.

He had looked more like a rancher than a software engineer. "A real cowboy in our midst."

To her amusement, color crept into his face. "Hardly. I mean, I grew up on a ranch, but..."

Marina laughed. "You grew up on a ranch and you're arguing with the cowboy label?"

"I wasn't exactly great at the ranch part."

"You rode horses?"

"Well, yeah, but not well." Actually blushed.

Marina couldn't remember the last time she'd seen that happen.

Most men puffed themselves up when they thought a woman was impressed. This one immediately started explaining why he wasn't much of a cowboy at all. The honesty was unexpectedly charming.

By the time the food arrived, Marina found herself looking forward to hearing his answers.

"Your tacos, Cowboy."

He rolled his eyes but accepted the nickname with surprising good humor.

As he ate, she shared stories about Cliff Harbor—not the glossy version found in brochures, but the authentic one.

She spoke of the fishing boats, the harbor’s charm, and its rich history. She explained why the locals chose to stay, even when logic suggested they should leave.

Unlike many visitors, He truly listened. He wasn’t just waiting for his turn to speak; he was engaged, genuinely interested in her words. That sincerity caught Marina off guard. Most tourists came to Cliff Harbor for the views, not for the stories behind them.

This one looked like he was searching for something else.

She was telling the cowboy how long she had been working at the Beacon when Joe slid onto the stool next to him. "Evening, Mara. The usual?"

"Coming up, Joe." Marina reached for the whiskey bottle and began to pour.

Lowering his voice, Joe asked, "You on tonight?"

The question felt both flattering and uncomfortable, a feeling she had wrestled with for years. The late show brought in customers, who bought drinks, which paid the bills. That part was straightforward. Everything else was far more complicated.

"No," she replied. "Music tonight. I'm on tomorrow."

Joe nodded. "Good. I'll be back then."

Marina forced a smile as she handed him the whiskey. "Looking forward to it."

He took his glass and moved to a nearby table. When she turned back, she caught the cowboy watching her.

"What was that about?" he asked, clearly interested.

"We run something most nights," she explained. "Music, performances. It depends who's in." She gestured toward the stage at the far end of the room. His gaze followed hers, then returned to her.

"And you're part of it?"

A small knot tightened in her stomach. Most people didn’t ask follow-up questions; they saw the stage and assumed it was just a local music venue. This one seemed genuinely curious, which felt more dangerous.

"Sometimes." She kept her tone casual, vague, safe. Before he could ask anything else, a group of tourists at the far end of the bar waved her over.

"Duty calls." The interruption was a relief.

For the next twenty minutes, she mixed drinks, answered questions about hiking trails and beaches, and explained for the hundredth time that no, the harbor seals weren't tame.

Yet despite herself, she remained aware of him—aware that he was still there, and every time she glanced his way, he seemed to be listening rather than staring at his phone. Ridiculous.

When she finally made her way back, she discovered he had already paid. Something inside her sank unexpectedly.

"Heading out?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

She believed him. There was a tiredness about him she had noticed from the moment he walked through the door.

"But the food was great," he said. "And the company."

For a second, Marina wondered if he realized how charming he could be when he wasn't trying. Probably not. That seemed to be part of his appeal.

"Good to hear, Cowboy. We aim to please."

His smile returned, sending an annoying flutter through her chest.

"I think I'll come back tomorrow," he said. "Maybe catch this performance everyone's talking about."

The flutter disappeared. Tomorrow. The show.

For one uncomfortable moment, Marina imagined him sitting in the audience, discovering what happened on the other side of those curtains.

She pictured the look on his face afterward—curiosity, disappointment, judgment, or worse, the same fascination she saw in too many men. She pushed the thoughts away.

"We open at five," she said. "Music starts at nine." Not a lie, but not exactly the truth either.

"I'll see you then." The certainty in his voice surprised her.

"See you tomorrow." Their eyes met briefly before he headed for the door.

Marina watched him leave. Outside, his RAV4 crossed the parking lot and vanished into the darkness beyond the harbor.

Just another tourist. Just another visitor staying for a week.

Just another man she would never see again after a few days.

So why did she suddenly find herself looking forward to tomorrow?

The answer crept in before she could stop it: because she wanted to see him again.

The realization irritated her. Silicon Valley.

Tech. Temporary. She already knew how stories like that ended.

And yet, as she turned back toward the bar, she couldn’t help wondering what the cowboy would think when he finally discovered who she really was.