Page 7 of Submit

THE KITESURFING OUTFIT is set on a wide sandy beach at the south end of the island. The check-in counter is inside a large hut with a covered patio, looking like it was made from bamboo and palm fronds.

Upon further inspection, that’sexactlywhat it is. Large palm fronds make up the thick roof and the sound is soothing as the breeze whips through them, rustling the dried material.

I watch a few of the surfers out in the water as I make my way to the counter where I’m greeted by averyDutch looking guy who appears to be around my age. I have to admit…he’s cute. Sandy blond hair, tan skin, blue eyes that are murkier than my own, but beautiful none the less.

He’s basically a girl’s wet dream.

He offers a warm smile despite the fact that I’m gawking. I doubt I’m the first to give him this reaction.

Did I mention he’s shirtless?

“Kan ik u helpen?”

It takes me just a second, but I finally find my words. “Oh, um, I’m sorry, I don’t speak Dutch. But I’m taking classes to learn!” I rush out at the end, wanting him to know that I’m taking his native language for a spin. I feel myself blush as hot-check-in-guy switches to English.

“Not a problem. How can I help you?” he asks with a relaxed, friendly smile.

“I’m here to check in for a ten o’clock lesson. There, um… there were supposed to be two of us, but the other one couldn’t make it.” I offer an awkward smile. Twice now I feel embarrassed. This guy probably thinks I’m a loser that doesn’t have any friends.But also, he’s right and more importantly, why do I care? Get it together, Libby.

“Okay,” he says simply and then pauses like he’s waiting for me to say something else. When I don’t, he arches his brows at me in question and cocks his head to the side. A small smile playing on his own lips. “What’s your name, love?”

“Oh, God. Duh, sorry. Elizabeth Baker.” This is going fantastically.

“Alright, Elizabeth.” He’s grabbing a pen and papers off of a printer as I correct him.

“Just Libby is fine.”

He flashes another smile, clearly able to tell how flustered I am. “Okay,Just Libby, here is your waiver, I’ll need your initials on the small lines and your signature on the big one.”

Funny.

I briefly glance over the document but it’s the same as always: If I die, I can’t sue them because I entered into this willingly.

Got it.

I slide the papers back across the table andJörn- I see his name on a placard on the counter -starts typing. I briefly catch that his eyebrows furrow for an instant before he recovers, his concern or disapproval vanishing quickly.

“You’re with Casper today. He doesn’t smile much, but if you want to learn, he’s our best instructor. He usually only teaches the intermediate and advanced patrons of the sport, but I guess today is your lucky day.”

He doesn’t look like he thinks this is my lucky day. In fact, he looks like this might become one of the worst days of my life. I try not to perseverate on that. I’m not terribly worried, I can wakeboard and ski and I’m naturally athletic, so, I’m hoping this won’t be too bad.

Wait.

“Casper? Like the friendly ghost? That’s got to be a nickname, right?” I ask Jörn.

Before he can respond, a low rumble of a voice speaks behind me, completely emotionless but striking a chord that runs from my chest to the apex of my thighs.

“Something like that.”

Jörn is visibly trying to prevent his laugh from escaping.

“Hey Cas,” he says over my shoulder. I have yet to turn around and face the man whose name I just mocked and whose voice alone heated my internal body temperature to dangerous levels.

To be honest, I kind of don’t want to turn around because I’m sure his face will ruin it and that voice alone could give me plenty of material for later.God, Lib. First, Jörn and now the friendly ghost? You do remember that you’re engaged, right?I chastise myself and a flood of guilt crashes into me until I’m pulled from my line of thought as I realize Jörn is still talking. Now would be a good time to turn around and introduce myself…and try to save face.

“This is Libby Baker. She’s your ten o’clock.” He gives Casper a playful glare. “This is her first time so be nice. We like it when they come back.” Jörn winks at me and hands my paperwork to Casper as I finally turn around.

“Holy shit.” I clamp a hand over my mouth as soon as it comes out but it’s too late. I know he’s heard me. I also know my eyes are wide but I can’t get the muscles in my face to relax. If Jörn is a girl’s wet dream, then Casper is a woman’s erotic nightmare. The only reason I can think that the man in front of me was given the nickname Casper is because he actually looks like the Angel of Death and the irony was too good to pass up.

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