Page 141 of Surfer's Paradise

She had smiled so much her cheeks ached.

But this was it. This was the night.

This gallery in Malibu wasn’t just some posh coastal venue—it was a cathedral of clout, a space where real deals were made, where art crossed from the emotional to the profitable. Rosie had three pieces on display. All of them personal. One had already been sold, the red dot sticker screaming quietly from the bottom of the frame. A good sign. A very good sign.

Still, her insides felt like a kettle boiling over.

She’d spent the last forty minutes fielding compliments, answering questions, trying to seem eloquent and composed, and not like the girl who’d once slept on the floor of a shared studio and cried into a fast food napkin.

Her dress—silk, dark blue, minimalist—was a gift from Amy. The makeup was her own. The hair was freshly washed, loosely styled. Glasses off. The red lipstick was to keep her brave.

She didn’t feel brave.

Until someone brushed her arm. Greg. He leaned in, said, “You’re doing great. This crowd is loving you.”

She smiled, whispered her thanks, took another sip of wine, and turned slightly toward the next person waiting to speak with her. She was doing it. It was hard. But she was doing it.

And then—

Out of the corner of her eye—

That walk.

That hair.

That smirk.

Rosie blinked.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He was—no. That couldn’t be Isaac.

Except it was.

Tall. Dark hair still a little messy even though he’d clearly tried to smooth it down. Tattoos peeking out from the collar of a fitted t-shirt that exposed just how fucking fit he was. And those damn brown eyes sweeping the room, already half-lit with the promise of trouble.

He was at the bar. Talking to women. Laughing.

She didn’t breathe for ten whole seconds.

What the hell was he doing here?

Had she—did she miss a text? An RSVP? Had Greg invited him?

No. No way.

Isaac didn’t do events.

He didn’t do quiet, polite, cocktail-sipping events.

He did beer and bonfires and backyard music.

Rosie, don’t lose your mind. Not here. Not now.

But she couldn’t unsee him now.

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