Chapter Eleven
The idea of standing on a surfboard and riding a wave to the beach had never appealed to Kenny.
Not till now. It had been a few days since he and Sara had gone shopping.
Who knew picking out ornaments for all his friends could be so much fun.
Then again, he knew the gifts had little to do with the fun day.
No, his good mood had everything to do with the company.
Since their little shopping escapade, Sara had worked not only the day shift, but picked up a couple of extra evening shifts working the restrooms. Waiting for her to finally have time off so they could go back to their fake dates had been more challenging for him than he’d expected.
One thing that every Navy SEAL learned early on in their career was the benefits of patience.
It was right up there with observing every detail, retaining the data, and using it to stay alive.
Except in this case, patience was in short supply.
It surprised him just how much he was looking forward to her day off and their little surfing lesson.
Pulling up to her house, he barely had the car in park before Sara came jogging out the front door, a wide, sun-drenched smile on her face. She was already dressed for the part in board shorts and a long-sleeved rash guard, her red hair pulled back in a practical ponytail.
Driving away from the curb, Kenny caught a glimpse of the familiar twitch of curtains in the front window. “Our audience is still watching.”
“Always. Mom probably has the binoculars out by now.” Sara directed him toward a beach north of town. “We’re going to Kahalu’u. It’s perfect for learning—sandy bottom, gentle waves, and not too crowded this time of day.”
The drive took about fifteen minutes. Along the way, Kenny found himself studying the water. From his military training, he automatically assessed conditions—wind direction, wave height, current patterns. The waves looked manageable, maybe three feet at most, rolling in with steady rhythm.
“I’ve arranged to borrow a couple of boards from my cousin Kai.
Park next to his truck.” Sara pointed at a simple white van with a man he presumed to be her cousin standing beside it, his hair and skin bronzed from years in the sun, his gaze on their car as they drove up.
Two long, thick surfboards leaned against the van’s side.
They looked less like the sleek “slivers of wood” he’d imagined and more like buoyant, foam-covered rescue craft.
They unloaded the boards—longer and wider than Kenny had expected—and Sara led him to a shaded spot under a palm tree. The beach was relatively quiet, with only a few other surfers in the water and some families scattered along the sand.
“Meet your new best friend,” Sara patted one of the boards. It was at least nine feet long. “This is a foamie. It’s stable, forgiving, and won’t knock your teeth out when it hits you in the head.”
“Reassuring,” Kenny noted dryly.
“See those waves? They’re breaking perfectly. Not too fast, not too slow.”
“Fast and slow. Got it.” Not that he had any clue what would be too fast or too slow…for water. “Do the sharks know this too?”
Her eyes narrowed making her whole face crinkle in confusion.
She looked absolutely adorable, and then it hit her he was teasing.
Sort of. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she pointed at the sand.
“This is your classroom. Rule one: respect the ocean. Rule two: it’s going to win, so learn how to fall.
First lesson,” Sara laid one board flat on the sand, “we’re going to practice on land before we get wet.
Lie down on the board like you’re paddling. ”
Kenny felt slightly ridiculous lying on a surfboard in the sand, but he followed Sara’s instructions. He felt her hands on his ribs and hips, adjusting his position, and nearly bit his tongue trying to ignore the gentle touch against his skin.
“You need to find the sweet spot. Too far back and the nose pops up, you stall. Too far forward and you nosedive. You’ll feel it when you’re in the water.
“Hands flat, about where your chest is. When you feel the wave catch you, you’re going to push up and swing your feet under you in one motion.” Sara demonstrated the movement in slow motion. “It’s called a pop-up. Try it.”
Kenny pushed himself up and attempted to bring his feet forward. He managed to get upright, though his stance was awkward.
“Not bad for a first try. But you’re thinking too much. It needs to be one fluid movement.” Sara demonstrated again. “Military training probably helps with the upper body strength, but surfing is about flow, not force.”
They practiced the pop-up several more times until Kenny could execute it smoothly. Then Sara showed him proper stance—feet perpendicular to the board, knees bent, arms out for balance.
“Remember, the board goes where you look. Look toward shore, not down at the water.” Sara picked up her board. “Ready to get wet?”
The water was warm, warmer than Kenny had expected. They waded out to waist-deep water, boards in tow. Sara positioned him carefully. And again, he did his best to ignore the feel of her hands on his skin.
She held his board steady as a small wave rolled under them. “Feel that?”
Swallowing hard, he nodded. What more could he do?
“That’s what you’re looking for. When you feel the wave lift the back of your board, start paddling hard. I’ll give you a push to help you catch it.”
He stretched out on the board, chest pressed to fiberglass, arms cutting the water.
The smell of salt, the push and pull of the swell—it felt different from swimming, different from diving.
Exposed. Upright. Like surrendering control instead of commanding it.
Not since his first days of SEAL training had he been so awkward and off-balance and most of that had little to do with the water.
“Here it comes!” Sara’s voice cut sharp and bright. “Three…two…one—up!”
The wave approached, lifting the tail of his board. He started paddling as Sara had instructed, feeling her hands on the back of the board giving him a push. Suddenly the wave caught him and he was gliding forward, the board carrying him toward shore.
“Pop up!” she shouted from behind him.
Kenny moved. Palms planted, chest lifting, feet sliding under.
The board wobbled but held as the wave shoved him forward.
Spray stung his face. For three glorious seconds, he stood riding the water like he’d been born to it—until the nose dipped, momentum surged, and he toppled headfirst into the surf.
Salt water filled his mouth. He surfaced sputtering, slicking his hair back from his eyes.
Sara’s laugh rang out, clear as a bell. “Not bad for a first try!”
He pushed the board back toward her, grinning despite himself. “Again.”
Because now that he’d had a taste of it—three seconds of impossible flight—he wanted more.
For the next hour, Kenny threw himself into learning with the same intensity he’d brought to every other challenge in his life.
He caught wave after wave, each ride lasting a little longer than the one before.
Sara stayed beside him, offering encouragement and adjustments, her enthusiasm infectious.
By the time they finally took a break, Kenny had managed several rides all the way to shore.
He was exhausted, exhilarated, and covered in sand, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun learning something completely new.
Or maybe it wasn’t something new at all, but something new with Sara.
Digging her toes into the warm sand, Sara laughed out loud for the umpteenth time today. This time not just at Kenny’s awkward wipeout but at the way he came up, hair slicked back and grinning like a little boy experiencing his first Christmas morning.
Sara felt something flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze.
This was supposed to be part of their fake relationship, another performance for anyone who might see them together.
But there was nothing fake about the way her pulse quickened when Kenny smiled at her like that.
When she’d adjusted his stance earlier, her hands had rested against the hard planes of muscle along his ribs, his hip.
Just a touch, nothing more, but she’d felt the strength beneath his skin, steady and unyielding.
The memory still tingled in her palms, the brief, practical contact had thrown her off balance more than any wave.
Over the years she’d corrected plenty of new surfers, but none of them had made her heart trip over itself.
And what the heck was she supposed to do with that?
Kenny would only be here for a short while.
The man was supposed to be nothing more than a pretend boyfriend to keep her mother happy and give her a relaxed, peaceful holiday season.
And yet—standing there, surfboard planted in the sand beside him, looking at her with a boyish mix of triumph and mischief—she couldn’t deny it had been a long time since she’d had this much fun or felt such a strong connection.
If she wasn’t more careful, falling off a surfboard would be the least of her problems. She needed to put some space between them, get back on the solid ground of their arrangement before she did something stupid, like stand toe to toe and kiss that impish grin off his face.
Taking a step back, she brushed sand from hands as if that were all that was needed to brush away the attraction churning inside her.
“We should probably rinse off and get these boards back to Kai.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kenny nodded, grabbing one of the towels she’d brought. “I need to swing by the dive shop anyway. Have to check in with Nick about tagging along with some new clients of his.”
They loaded the boards back onto her cousin’s van, shouting their thanks to Kai, who gave them a lazy wave from where he stood with his own board at his side.
The public rinse-off station was a simple outdoor shower head.
As they took turns washing the salt and sand from their skin and hair, Sara tried very hard not to notice the way the water sluiced over Kenny’s broad shoulders and down his back.
This charade was definitely getting more complicated than she’d expected.
Walking back to his car, toweling their hair dry, she searched for something safe to talk about. “For a guy who’s never surfed, you’re not half bad.”
“All credit goes to the teacher.” He opened the passenger door for her. The gentlemanly gesture felt so ingrained in him, so automatic, it made her appreciate him all the more.
The drive to the dive shop was quiet and comfortable.
She found herself replaying his wipeouts in her head, not with smug satisfaction, but with a growing respect for his persistence.
He hadn’t gotten frustrated or embarrassed.
He’d simply assessed the failure, corrected, and tried again. A SEAL through and through.
Kenny pulled into the parking lot of the Big Island Dive Shop, the familiar sign a welcome sight. Inside, the faint hum of the air conditioners welcomed them.
“Look what the tide brought in,” Billy called out from behind the counter, a knowing grin spreading across his face. His gaze flicked from a sandy, salt-streaked Kenny to her. “Having fun on your day off?”
The question was innocent enough, but the look in his eyes made Sara feel a flush of heat creep up her neck.
For the first time, she felt a pang of guilt over their deception.
Billy was her friend, and here she was, playing a part.
But then Kenny’s hand was on the small of her back, a light, casual touch that was both for show and, she suspected, for support, and a tiny part deep down hoped maybe even for real—and wasn’t that dangerous territory to be wandering in.
“We had a great time.” She hoped her voice sounded more casual than she felt. “Kenny’s a fast learner.”
Billy’s grin widened. “I’ll bet he is.”
Just then, Lexi walked into the shop from the back office. “Just got off the phone with Steve at the marina. You’ll never guess whose boat pulled into a rented slip in the middle of the night.”
Wiping grease off his hands on a towel, brows buckled, Nick came through the doors from the warehouse.
Lexi didn’t wait for guesses. “Julian Vance.”
Stopping in his tracks, Nick’s frown deepened. “What is that snake doing here?”
Sara had no idea who this person was or why they called him a snake, but from the way the staff at the shop all glanced each other, they certainly knew.
“The Thornes?” Billy asked even though she suspected it was more of an answer than a question.
On a sigh, Nick tossed the dirty rag onto the counter. “Is the pope Catholic?”
“Is this Vance character going to be a problem?” Every muscle in Kenny’s body seemed to tighten as if he were a hound dog on a mission.
Nick shook his head. “If we’re all lucky, that modern day pirate is just passing through on his way to being someone else’s headache.”
None of that sounded good to Sara. She could see the way the men looked at each other and could almost see the silent conversation. If she were a betting woman, she’d wager this is how they communicated when they were all active duty together.
Just then, her cell buzzed and she glanced down at the phone. Quickly reading the text, her gaze shifted to meet Kenny’s. “That’s Maria, her son is running a fever. She wants to know if I can take her shift tonight. Is it okay if we do a rain check on dinner?”
“Of course. Tomorrow we can play in my world.”
“Your world?” She hadn’t meant for her voice to crack.
His grin widened. “Today we played on your water. Tomorrow, we play under mine.”
A happy smile replaced the moment of panic that had tickled her spine. “I can do that.” And she could. Anyone who had grown up with these water rats could handle her own over or under the water. “Works for me.”
“I’d better get you home so you can change for work.” Kenny waved at his buddies, not saying another word about the late night visitor, and gently placing his hand once again at the small of her back, ushered her out the door.
The simple touch, along with all the playful teasing made her stomach twist and flip. The line between their fake relationship and whatever reality they were sharing had never felt more blurred.