Page 60 of Broken Hearts

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” I tell him, pushing up to give him a quick kiss. “Go do your boss things, boss.” I giggle as I say it and Nate swats my ass as he walks away.

He disappears behind the curtain that blocks the storage room and office from the shop. I’m left alone, taking in the ocean view from the front window, watching the surfers catch waves, the sun shining the way it only does here.

This place is a literal paradise.

I’m daydreaming when the bell to the back door sounds, and I hear voices. Catching Nate sounding like his typical self. Chill and aloof, and it makes me smile. There’s something about the effect I have on him that turns me on.

“Sorry, man, class ran late,” the voice says, and Nate responds with, “No worries.”

Seconds later, a guy dressed in a pair of boardshorts and no shirt appears on the other side of the curtain. He’s the epitome of a surfer guy. His T-shirt is tucked into the hip of his boardshorts, hanging there loosely, a deep tan covers his skin, and his hair is disheveled, curling at the nape of his neck.

He quickly grabs his shirt, pulling it on over his head, The Pipe Dream logo emblazoned on the front as he makes his way over to where I’m standing.

“Hey,” he says, a playful flirtation to his word.

“She’s Mitch’s daughter!” Nate yells from the back room, and I cover my mouth, stifling the laugh. It feels like that’s his go-to line now, almost a way to tell everyone I’m off-limits. Now it feels like it’s his way of staking his claim to me, and he doesn’t have a damn thing to worry about.

“Take it easy, dude,” the guy calls back, rolling his eyes. “You already told me that.” He shakes his head, letting out a chuckle. “Not sure if you remember meeting me, but I’m Owen. Guessing you’ve met a lot of people over the last week or so.” He’s friendly, and sweet and when he gives me this gentle reminder, I do remember him.

“Oh yeah, you came in with the group that did the surf lessons, right?” I scan my memory for him, a vague remembrance of our meeting. He’s right. I have met so many people since I arrived, between friends of my father’s and people Nate knows and people who work for my dad. It’s a lot.

I feel a little guilty that I don’t fully remember him, but he brushes it off.

“Yep, that’s me,” he says. “And I cover a few shifts here too when I’m not doing lessons or in class.”

“You’re in school?” I now ask, finding something in common with him. “For what?”

“Environmental engineering,” he says, and all I can think is that this is the perfect place to major in something like that. The landscape is like nothing else.

“That’s awesome. I’m going to school to be a teacher, biology, to be specific.”

“No shit,” he quips, smiling boldly. “We could have a lot to talk about.”

I swear everyone I’ve met here has been so welcoming, and it’s not hard to see why my dad wasn’t jumping at the chance to move to the mainland.

I quickly glance down at my watch, catching the time and realizing I need to head over to Alana’s. The shop is open later tonight since it’s a Friday, and the lessons crew will be checking in soon, but also all the locals will be flocking in after work too. There are quite a few boards that were being repaired that need to be picked up, and a new one that was just finished.

I give Owen a heads up on all of this, and he just nods casually, leaning back against the wall taking it all in.

“Sorry, I’m meeting up with Alana in a little bit, but Nate’s in the back…” I trail off, and Owen chuckles, clearly understanding why I stopped. “Never mind all of that. I’m pretty sure you’ve got things under control.”

“Yep, all good,” Owen says, not acknowledging that I literally tried to tell him how to do his job, a job that I’ve been doing for all of five minutes. “Do me a favor?” He pauses, waiting for me to reply.

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Tell Sloane I said hi if she’s around.” He smirks, this cute grin plastered on his sun-kissed face.

I don’t respond right away, letting his words and the look on his face sink in, but then we’re interrupted by Nate calling out, “Dude, she hates you!”

“No, I don’t!” I squeal, shaking my head. “Nate, what is wrong with you?”

“Not you, Sage. Sloane hates Owen. He’s trying too hard.”

“Dude, mind your fucking business. I wasn’t talking to you,” Owen shouts, dragging a hand through his unruly hair.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her,” I say to him quietly, giving him a wink, and he hits me with one back.

I head toward the stockroom, pulling back the curtain, I find Nate sitting at the little desk tucked in the corner. He’s typing away on the keyboard in front of him, and my breath catches in my throat.

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