Page 37 of Below the Barrel

“Yeah.” I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “I really do think it’s a good idea. I mean it. You’ve always had that passion for baking, and it makes sense for you to want to explore that.”

She turns slightly, looking at me with wide eyes. “You really think it could work? Even with surfing and everything?”

“I do,” I say, my voice steady. “You’re good at juggling things. And who says you can’t do both? Surf and bake? You can hirepeople to help with the day-to-day stuff while you’re away, but it could be something that’s yours, you know?”

I know how important it is to Maliah to have something that’shers. That was never surfing, she only joined The Saltwater Shredders because her parents had pushed her into it. Having her on this tour has been her father’s dream for as long as I can remember.

Her lips tug into a soft smile, and she looks down, rubbing a bit of mud between her fingers. “It’s scary, though. Stepping away from something I’ve known my whole life.”

I nod. “But you can’t let fear stop you from doing what you want. And besides, you’re not really stepping away. You’d still be surfing. You’re just…expanding. Trying something new.”

She stays quiet for a minute, thinking about it. “I guess I’m just worried I’ll fail. What if no one comes to my bakery? What if it flops?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Maliah, have you met you? You’d never let that happen. And honestly, I think people will be lining up for your pastries.”

Her cheeks flush, and she dips her head slightly, clearly embarrassed by the compliment. “You really think I can do this, huh?”

“I know you can,” I say, and there’s no hesitation in my voice. “Besides, I’m already planning to move into that abandoned house we talked about. If you turn it into a bakery, I guess I’ll just have to live above it or something.”

She laughs softly, and it’s a sound I could listen to for hours. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

I lean closer, my voice teasing. “Maybe. But only if you save me the best desserts.”

She smirks, looking at me through her lashes. “We’ll see.”

I can sense the conversation dying off, but I’m not ready to stop talking to her yet, so I grapple at anything. “How do you picture it? How would you design it?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” she admits, her fingers playing with the mud idly. “I want it to have an open, inviting feel. Rustic but modern. You know, lots of warm woods and big windows. I’d probably keep the exterior as is though, but give it a little facelift.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What about the inside? You gonna go all out on those cozy vibes?”

“Definitely.” She scoffs. “I want it to feel like a place people can just hang out, you know? Maybe a bookshelf, plants everywhere…and a big display case right at the front with fresh pastries and desserts.”

“What kind of pastries are you thinking of making?”

“I’d offer something new every week, just to keep it interesting.”

“Like what?” I ask, my hand moving down her back now, carefully applying more mud as I go. “Signature bakes? Weekly specials?”

She looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Exactly! Seasonal items too—fresh fruit pies in the summer, warm cinnamon rolls in the winter, maybe even themed cakes for holidays.”

I smirk, leaning a bit closer to her as I slide my hands to her hips, pulling her muddy back against my chest. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out. And what would you call this bakery of yours?”

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade before she shrugs, trying to play it off. “I haven’t landed on a name yet…maybe something to do with the beach, or?—”

I press in closer, my lips near her ear now. “How about something likeMaliah’s Temptations?” I murmur, my tone playful.

She rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “You’re impossible, Koa.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” I tease, running my fingers lightly down her spine. The way her breath catches doesn’t go unnoticed, and I feel a surge of pride knowing I’m affecting her.

She leans back slightly, her body pressed close against mine, and I can feel the tension rising between us. Her fingers dip into the mud, and before I realize it, she’s turned herself around and smears it right across my chest.

“Looks like you need some help too.” She grins mischievously.

I chuckle, enjoying the shift in her mood. “Oh, so we’re playing that game?”

“Maybe,” she says, her voice soft but teasing. Her hand lingers as she spreads the mud over my skin, her fingers trailing slow paths. The way her touch lingers feels far more intimate than it should.

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