I had been thinking more and more about our deal, how Hannah wanted to be a ‘hot girl’. How she had compared herself to her mom.
I’m never going to meet someone hiding in my bookstore, she had said the other night at the bar. And now here she was, bright and early in the morning, perched on her board, watching over her shoulder for approaching waves.
Huh. She must have really wanted to find someone.
Something weird twisted in my stomach but I focused on Hannah paddling as the wave rolled past me and caught up with her.
“Come on,” I muttered to myself, leaning on my board, gaze glued to her.
She glanced over her shoulder, saw the wave, paddled harder, and as the water rose under her, she hopped up.
“You got it, bookworm, stay up.” I bit my fist as if I watched a hockey game in shootou
