Chapter Three
Ant
I’m back in the car park drying myself off after my surf the morning after my altercation with Lili Gordon when I get a text from the woman herself.
Lili: This is the woman from the car park yesterday. I have a proposition for you
Hah. I have a proposition or five for her, too. Many of which ran through my mind while I was taking care of business in the shower last night.
Me: Oh, yeah?
Maybe we’re on the same wavelength. I didn’t miss the way she tried not to look yesterday.
Lili: Can we meet for coffee somewhere?
Me: Sure. Today?
Lili: That would be ideal, yes. Say 11 am?
I had planned to be working on a board this morning, but it’s still pretty early, so I can spare a little time for a coffee.
I text her the address of the coffee shop opposite the factory where I shape my boards.
That way I’ll get in a couple of hours’ work before she arrives.
Bonus, I’ll be salty and filthy. I have a feeling she might secretly love that look, although she’ll pretend, even to herself, to loathe it.
Ten minutes before Lili is due to arrive, I turn off the sander I’ve been using to shape the blank of the surfboard I’m crafting.
Despite the protective gear I always wear, foam dust always finds a way to creep into any gaps.
So I strip down and shake as much of it off my clothes as I can, wash my hands and face, throw my clothes back on and cross the road.
The café is heaving and short-staffed. Since Lili isn’t here yet, I hop behind the counter and make a few coffees to help out.
“Thanks, Ant, you’re a lifesaver,” Nathan, the café manager, says with a backslap.
“No worries. Always happy to help.”
It’s at that moment the object of my shower thoughts walks in. Looking all kinds of edible in arse-hugging jeans, a white T-shirt and sneakers. She spots me immediately and edges towards the counter through the crowd waiting for their orders.
“I didn’t realise you’d be working. Are you able to take a break? I don’t want to get you in trouble with your manager.” Her tone today is far more conciliatory than yesterday.
Nathan looks confused. And well he might.
It’s clear Lili has assumed I’m a server or barista, but what I am is the owner.
Of this café, and the one I worked in yesterday.
Plus a couple of others. I help on weekends or when we’re short staffed.
And right now we’re down a couple of baristas and a shift manager.
But I’m happy to let Lili carry on with her assumption and see how this plays out.
“No worries. My shift just finished.” I grin at Nathan, who is a smart guy and has already worked out the dynamic.
“Off you go then, Ant,” he says with a laugh, giving my leg a flick with the tea towel he’s holding. Fucker.
“I’ll just make us some coffees.” I glare at him. Once they’re ready, I lead her to the only free table.
“So, you have a proposition for me?” I waggle my eyebrows.
“Yes. I do.” She looks up as Nathan arrives at our table with a couple of treats. “Oh, thank you.”
Nathan puts the brownies, which he knows are my favourite, in front of us with a shit-eating grin. “On the house.”
I shoot Nate an eye roll. I know what he’s up to. We’ve worked together for years. He’d better keep his eyes open for payback because it’ll be a bitch.
Lili wastes no time in getting down to business.
“I’m prepared to pay for the repairs to your car, so you don’t have to claim through insurance. If you’ll do me a favour.”
This woman is a trip. I wonder what kind of men she’s been hanging out with if she thinks this attitude will work.
“Hmm. Well, firstly, you’re at fault, so my insurance isn’t going to be an issue. Yours will. Secondly, even if I did have to claim through my insurance, it’s no big deal.” I shrug.
In reality, she did me a favour by hitting that door. It saved me from having to pay for it to be looked at. Right now it’s being held closed with an occy strap. Getting quotes for repair is on my to-do list for this week.
Maybe if I were earning what the average barista earns, finding the money for the insurance excess could be an issue. But I’m not. In fact, none of my baristas earn the basic wage. I pay my staff well, and we make the best coffee on the peninsula. Bar none.
That scowly look from yesterday is back. She doctors her coffee with a little sugar and stirs it slowly. The look of surprise on her face when she takes a sip is priceless.
“That’s really good.” She takes another sip, giving every appearance of savouring it.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” I hide my grin behind my cup.
Now that she’s softened me up with a compliment, it’s back to business. She sets her cup down with a snap.
“Well, if you don’t want to do me a favour, why did you agree to meet?” Those luscious lips, today coated in nothing but a little lip gloss, purse. If only she knew how stupidly sexy that look is.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t prepared to do you a favour. Just that the insurance issue has no bearing on whether I do or don’t. So, what’s the favour?”
Lili clears her throat. A light blush runs up her cheeks. She squirms in her chair. And I wait.
“I need a … well, a … date. I mean, a fake date. Not a real date.” Those black coffee eyes flick up to my face, trying to gauge my response.
I let her squirm a bit longer. I’m taken aback by her suggestion.
She’s beautiful. Surely, she doesn’t have any problem getting a date?
Then again, she’s pretty prickly, and that’s not to everyone’s taste, so maybe.
“You need a fake date? Like a Pretty Woman kind of thing? Except I’m the hooker.”
“Yes. I mean … no. Well, kind of.” Lili stumbles to a halt.
“What would my girlfriend think of this idea, I wonder?” I ask with a tilt of my head.
“Oh.” The blush she was sporting turns nuclear, and her eyes widen and dart around as if expecting said girlfriend to pop up from behind a table somewhere.
“Of course. You’re not single. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that.
Forget I said anything.” She flaps her hand in front of her face as though batting away a terrible idea.
“Kidding. No girlfriend,” I say with a grin.
Lili looks like she might bite through her tongue in her attempt not to snap at me.
I break off a piece of brownie and put it in my mouth, slowly sucking the chocolate off my fingers, all the while holding her gaze with mine.
Her blush deepens again. She licks her lips.
It’s hard to tell, because her eyes are so dark, but I imagine her pupils dilating.
If I’m reading her right, she’s gone from embarrassed to pissed off to unwillingly turned on in the space of a few seconds.
I can’t recall the last time I had this much fun with my clothes on.
She breaks eye contact, and with a deep, put-upon sigh, she continues with her proposition. “My cousin is getting married. And my grandmother is trying to matchmake me.”
“Ah. So you need a beard.” I frown and nod earnestly as if this ludicrous proposition makes sense. The sarcasm sails straight over her head.
“Yes. Exactly. Someone to pretend to be my boyfriend. For the wedding.”
“Hmm. And when is this wedding?” I might never have been tempted to participate in one myself, but I love weddings. I’m a romantic at heart. Cake, booze, dancing. And bridesmaids. What’s not to love?
“It’s next month. It’s a … a destination wedding. In Hawaii. We’d have to leave in just over four weeks.”
“Hawaii? You want to take a perfect stranger to Hawaii?” I stare at her, hard. She looks surprised by my words as though she hadn’t truly registered what she’s suggesting. “And we’d be away for how many days?”
“A-a week. Well, eight days all up. She has lots of events planned.”
“Eight days?” I nearly choke on my coffee. That’s crazy. “Eight days of fake dating?”
“I know it’s a long time. But you wouldn’t have to go to all the events if you didn’t want to. And Hawaii is a great place for surfing, you know. You’d be able to take your surfboard. And I’ll cover you for lost wages. It won’t cost you a cent. And—”
I hold my hand up to stop the nervous babbling that shows me how desperate she is. What I want to know is why. “Whoa. Slow your roll, there, lady.”
Something flickers behind her eyes, and her shoulders slump. It’s a small sign of vulnerability I didn’t expect, and it’s so quick I almost missed it. The determined look and perfect posture are back in a nanosecond.
“You know what, don’t worry about it. It’s a big ask.
You’re not interested, so let’s forget it.
I just thought … But it was a ridiculous idea.
” She takes a last gulp of her coffee, gathers her bag and stands.
“Thanks for the coffee anyway.” She turns to leave, hesitates for a moment.
Turning back, she snatches the untouched brownie off her plate and stomps away.
She’s out the door before I have a chance to call her back. Which is a shame. I’d intended to say yes to her mad proposal. If only to buy myself some time to get to know her.
“What happened there, boss? You strike out?” Nathan saunters over. He’s running his ever-present tea towel through his fingers while watching Lili march down the street through the open windows at the front of the café.
“It’s a work in progress,” I answer, finishing the dregs of my coffee and picking up the rest of my brownie. I’m about to take a bite when it disappears out of my hand and into Nathan’s giant gob in one motion.
“That was half a brownie. You’d better put that on your tab,” I warn him with a laugh. He scratches his nose with his middle finger, picks up our plates and cups and heads back behind the counter, chuckling all the way.
I think about my next move. Given how spiky she is, it wouldn’t be good to seem too keen.
So, I’ll give her a couple of days to stew.
Or calm down. But not enough that she’ll find someone else to star in her little one-act play.
Because, despite how salty she is—or maybe because of it—I’m keen to see more of Lili Gordon.
And spending a week in Hawaii with her seems like the ideal way to do it.
I wish I could go back to shaping that board after my meeting with Lili, but adulting calls.
In the past few years, I’ve taken the small café chain my parents started and doubled it.
I also hustled like crazy to set up my own successful business making surfboards with my mate Simon, offering them for free to anyone on the pro circuit who’d look at us.
And it worked. We have a small but committed client list, many of them top pro surfers, and demand is growing.
We have big plans. Hopefully soon we’ll be able to set up a shopfront and a clothing line.
But for that, we need an injection of capital.
And today we need to discuss our options.
I pull into the driveway of the house we share just as he’s returning from a surf.
“Hard at work, I see,” I call as he drapes his wetsuit over the clothesline to dry.
“Fuck off. It’s Sunday,” he shoots back. “And I needed to relax before we tackle all that business bullshit.”
Simon’s more like a brother than a friend. We started kindergarten together, and apart from a brief falling out in year nine, when we both liked the same girl—who ended up hooking up with our arch nemesis anyway—we’ve been tight ever since. We learnt that lesson.
While Simon grabs a quick shower, I slap the sandwiches I brought home from the café onto plates, pour us a glass of juice and get the laptop fired up.
As expected, Simon falls on the food as though he hasn’t eaten in a month.
“So, catch me up,” he mumbles through a mouthful of chicken salad.
“Before we get into the really boring stuff,” I say, referring to the bookkeeper’s report, causing Si to raise an eyebrow, “have you looked at the latest responses we’ve had on our funding applications?”
This subject has been a bone of contention between us.
We’ve been looking for funding to expand for about six months, and we’ve had several offers.
The problem is, Simon is happy to cede far more control of the business to an investor than I am.
So far, none of the offers we’ve had have aligned with my vision for Beach Road Boards, or the cafés.
Simon nods, takes another massive bite of his sandwich and chews. I recognise his tells. He’s stalling.
“Come on, out with it.” I flick my fingers, inviting him to speak.
With a look that I know means he’s serious, which doesn’t happen often, Simon heaves a sigh.
“Dude. This is your dream. And let’s be honest, you’re the one who’s done all the hard work.”
He’s right. Simon doesn’t need to work. His father is a property developer who gifted him shares in the family company that pay him more than enough to live on. All he really wants to do is travel to the best surf breaks in the world, surf and make the odd board.
I’ve been the one hustling to get the business off the ground. I’ve been the one building relationships with as many of the pro surfers as I can. I’ve been the one managing everything from stock to accounting to sales.
“What are you saying?” I need him to say it, even though I’m pretty sure I know where this is going.
“I want you to buy me out.”
I’m glad it’s finally on the table. I’ve had the feeling this has been coming for a while.
“I don’t have that kind of cash,” I tell him. As part of the process of looking for funding, we’ve valued the business, so we both know its current worth.
“No rush, dude. And I don’t want half. Thirty percent of the current value. Tops.”
I open my mouth to object, but Si holds up a hand.
“No arguments. We both know you built this business. Beach Road Boards wouldn’t exist without you.”
He’s a stubborn bastard. There’s no point arguing.
“Can I still call on you as a guest shaper?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He grins and holds up his glass for a toast. “To Ant Stevens and Beach Road Boards. I’d never ride anything else.”
It’s a bittersweet moment. But I want Simon to be happy. And I want Beach Road Boards to grow.
Now all I have to do is find the right investor and I’m set. Simple.