When Grace walked into J’s Surf Shack, Jason, wearing a Quicksilver vest, was lifting a heavy longboard up onto a rack, giving her a full view of his muscular torso. All angles and slabs of meat, he looked like he had just broken out of a stone egg. If she found him attractive it would certainly solve a few things, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the Jason-from-school image which invaded her thoughts every time she looked at him. He might be buffed like a marble statue, but he was still the diminutive book nerd with the nervous tick who had taken her library card once or twice every couple of months.
‘Hey,’ she said, swallowing down her pride.
Jason looked around, giving her a nod without any kind of self-consciousness about the amount of male flesh on display. ‘Grac
