“Hey, do you give lessons?”
Zara turned toward the man asking the question, saying, “Yeah, sure, all the—” She cut off when she saw it was Noah. She cursed herself for speaking so quickly. Her exuberance to book another job—anything that made money and kept her out of the restaurant—had cost her this time.
“I mean, not anymore.” She gave him a tight, closed-mouth smile as he approached. It was wholly criminal how good he looked wearing a pair of sunglasses, his hands all tucked in his pockets like they were.
“Too bad,” he said, staring out over the beautiful, teal water of the East Bay. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf.”
“You grew up on an island and don’t know how to surf?” Zara stared at him, disbelief racing through her. “That’s just wrong.”
“The water’s not exactly the sam
