Chapter One
Rowan Delaney watched the girl on the beach from the open door of the surf shop.
She walked up and down the shoreline, dragging her toe in the sand.
Dressed in a white crochet bikini top, shredded denim shorts, and a fancy lace cover-up, she gave off tourist vibes.
The sunglasses screamed designer—looked like Michael Kors.
Her sandals were Birkenstock. The nude beach bag was Prada.
Her wrists were stacked with Pura Vida bracelets in beachy colors.
The girl stared out at the group of surfers paddling into the waves.
Shouts of laughter echoed with the roar of the ocean and carried in the breeze.
Rowan watched as each of them caught a swell and rode in.
One made it. The other two got caught and tumbled into the water.
All of them emerged grinning, joy stamped on their tanned faces as they high-fived and began again.
The pain in her knee was now a dull throb rather than a vicious slice. Rowan was glad. In another few years, she’d be numb enough not to care.
The girl on the beach kept her gaze on the surfers, features hidden beneath the oversize lenses. She was utterly still, as if seeing something for the very first time, then she ducked her head and went back to making random lines in the white sand.
Rowan pegged her as a wandering guest from a fancy hotel trying to escape her parents. It was doubtful she even went into the water in that getup. Surfing wasn’t glamorous, though when done right, it was the most beautiful dance in the world.
Rowan turned away from the scene and began organizing the new inventory of sun products.
Why did Tino mix up the brands? They were all cluttered on the shelves in random heaps of oil, block, and aftercare even though she’d instituted an organized spreadsheet.
Probably working on a custom board and couldn’t care less about the store.
Holding back a sigh, she took her time methodically fixing the mess while Jimmy Buffett sang over the speakers about paradise.
“Hi.”
Rowan spun around at the intrusion. The girl stood behind her, sunglasses now perched on top of her head.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot.
Up close, Rowan realized she was younger than she thought—barely a teen.
A sprinkling of acne dusted her forehead.
Ash-blond hair fell to her shoulders in straight strands.
Her eyes were big and blue and dominated her angular face. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Um, do you have water?”
Rowan pointed to the cooler. “In there.”
“Oh. Well, I have this water bottle.” She lifted a Stanley cup in rose gold. “I wasn’t sure if you had a place I can refill it?”
“Sorry, we just sell bottled water.”
The girl nodded and bit her lip. Rowan caught the bright blue inserts of her braces. “I don’t like to buy plastic bottles because of the environment. I guess I can wait. Thanks.”
She turned but Rowan stopped her. “I’ll fill it up for you in the back. As long as you don’t mind tap.”
The girl brightened like she’d been given a gift. “Oh, that’d be awesome! Thanks so much.”
Rowan walked around the counter and took the overlarge cup. The girl’s voice was bright and bubbly as she kept talking. “This is such a cute shop! I didn’t even realize it was here since it was tucked away, like a cool surprise.”
Rowan turned on the faucet and filled it to the brim. She raised her voice. “Yeah, we cater to most of the locals. The hotels usually use the shops close by.”
“Makes sense. I bet these are the real surfboards and not the overpriced designer ones used by fake surfers.”
Rowan’s lips twitched. “Never heard of fake surfers before.”
“I just mean there’s a ton of people who think it’s cool to surf once to say they did it. Like jumping out of a plane. Most only do it so they can brag. Not because they were dying to do it. Am I making sense?”
Rowan walked back and handed her the cup, noting how the girl’s fancy bright blue nails flashed as she took it. “Yeah, I get it. Surfing isn’t for everyone, though. Like jumping out of planes.”
The girl laughed awkwardly. “Thanks again. I’m Kelsey.”
“Rowan. Nice to meet you.”
The girl seemed reluctant to leave. “Do you surf?”
Rowan forced a smile. “Not anymore. I just sell the stuff.”
“That’s cool, too.” She wrinkled her nose as if realizing she was saying something dumb. Rowan felt the pang of discomfort with her. God knows, her most difficult years had been middle school. How many times had she wanted to simply disappear and come back when she was a poised, confident adult?
Rowan gave a reassuring smile. “It is. I get to hang on the beach, plus I score discounts.”
The girl laughed with relief. “I’d love that.
I can’t wait till I’m old enough to work at a store rather than babysit.
I know it sounds awful, but toddlers give me the ick.
They’re messy and loud and throw tantrums. But Dad says I need to learn to earn money the old-fashioned way.
I’d rather pet-sit, but I don’t live around neighbors with dogs, so I’m stuck. ”
Amusement rippled through her. “I’m not fond of little kids, either,” she confided. “Definitely more of an animal person.”
The girl brightened. “Do you have pets?”
“A rabbit.”
Her blue eyes widened. “No way! I don’t know anyone with a pet rabbit. What’s his name?”
“Bagel.”
The girl laughed with delight. “That’s adorable! I’d do anything for a pet, but I’m not allowed.” Longing flickered over her features. “Maybe you can bring Bagel here one day and I can meet him? I’m here for the summer and I’m staying close by. I can—”
She was interrupted by the chatter of the surfers entering the store. Rowan noticed how quickly the girl shut down, like a snail curling back into its shell. Her face smoothed out, and she stepped back so she was out of the way.
“Hey, Rowan! Waves are slow today. Do you have the pineapple ice pops?”
The two girls were regulars. Hair wet and salty, skin tanned brown, clad in swimwear that stayed up and on under the force of the waves, they rifled through the cooler and bumped into each other with a familiarity that meant everything in the cutthroat world of adolescence.
Rowan didn’t have to glance at the young girl with her back pressed against the wall.
She could literally feel the yearning to belong surging beneath the casual surface.
“Just strawberry,” Rowan said.
“Damn. Can you tell Tino to get more pineapple?” Chelsea said, handing a red pop to her friend.
“Sure.”
“Is the shop sponsoring anyone for the surfing contest next month?” Brie asked.
She scraped back her wild curls and deftly fastened the strands with a clip.
Each movement was graceful and confident.
She was the same on a surfboard. Rowan knew she was ambitious and had been amping up her practice hours.
Brie’s older sister, Lea, was already a well-known competitor on the circuit.
Brie had some edge, but she had a long way to go and little patience.
“I think so. Gotta talk to him.”
Brie gave her a long stare. “Sure. Maybe one day you’ll get back on your board. Give Lea some real competition again.”
Her body grew cold. Ice clipped her voice. “Three dollars,” she said. Brie blinked. “For the pops.”
Chelsea dug the cash from her shorts at the same time Brie turned to study their quiet observer. Immediately, the two scented blood like the sharks they were. “Hey, city girl. You lost?”
“Um, no. Just poking around.” The girl gave an eager grin. “I’m Kelsey. I saw you all surfing. You’re incredible. Are you joining that contest?”
Rowan winced. Why did the sweet ones get tortured?
Brie only responded to strength, and it was obvious she wasn’t finding any.
Chelsea shoved the cash into Rowan’s hand and joined her friend.
“We’re in training,” Chelsea said. Her gaze took in Kelsey’s outfit.
“Why aren’t you at the fancy beach club?
That’s where they give your type lessons. ”
Kelsey nibbled on her lip, an obvious nervous habit. “I thought I’d check out some of the other beaches. See some real surfing. There’s not much going on at the hotel, but I’d love to go to the North Shore.”
“You interested in learning?” Brie asked.
“Yeah, it looks amazing.”
The girls shared a knowing look. “We’ll teach you,” Brie said with fake sweetness. “But you have to ditch the jewelry. And the bag. And those ridiculous shoes.”
“Here, I’ll hold them,” Chelsea offered. “Come with us. We’ll show you a good time. We’re pricey, but it’ll be totally worth it. Much better than those loser instructors at the Hilton.”
Kelsey hesitated.
“Enough.” All three girls stared at Rowan. She lifted a brow. “Aren’t you due to pick your brother up, Brie? I know your mom mentioned having to work late this week. Probably not a great time for lessons.”
Her words had enough edge to get them to back off.
Brie gave a half shrug. “Sure. Come back later, city girl. We’ll have some fun.”
Chelsea giggled and they walked out of the shop.
Rowan shook her head and returned to the counter. “Brie and Chelsea are harmless, but I wouldn’t recommend you pay them for lessons.”
Kelsey nodded and glanced at the door. “I figured. Do they surf in competitions?”
“Some, but they’re still learning.” She studied the girl’s longing stare and tried to harden her heart. “If you want to surf, the hotels have some solid instructors.”
Kelsey straightened her shoulders. “I’m not at a hotel. We rented a place for the summer.”
“With your mom and dad?”
“Just my dad.” Rowan caught the defensive tone, and damned if she didn’t feel worse. “He’s got this big business deal going on. I thought learning to surf would be cool.”
It was what she didn’t volunteer that told Rowan the real truth. Her father was busy working and she was on her own for the summer. There was only so much shopping, sunbathing, and sleeping a young girl could do before getting bored.
Well, some of them. Others would be thrilled to simply hang, but Rowan got the impression that having endless time alone was more of a problem than a luxury for Kelsey.
Not that it was her business.
“Waikiki is a great place for touring,” she offered. “Snorkeling with the sea turtles is popular. Hiking through Diamond Head. I’m sure you’ll have a great summer.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Kelsey offered a weak smile and gave a wave. “See you.”
Rowan watched her walk out of the shop. Why did she suddenly feel like she’d kicked a lost puppy back to the streets?
Ridiculous. Kelsey was sweet, but she belonged at the fancy beach clubs, where she could make similar friends. Not trolling for company at an ancient surf shack, hanging with a washed-up pro surfer who had nothing to offer.
Shaking her head, she wiped down the sand-spotted counter and returned to stocking inventory.
Returned to the calm, predictable shoreline of her life.