Page 87 of The Proposal
We attempt wave after wave, getting pushed back to shore and having to paddle out again. Renn is ridiculously patient and sweet, encouraging me with tips and positive reinforcement.
The interaction swells my heart as I imagine him teaching his child how to surf. The gentleness in his voice, the pride when I manage to finally crouch. The way he cheers for me when I stand all of two seconds of my final ride.
“Look at you,” he says, pulling his board next to mine. Our legs dangle in the water. “You don’t even seem like a rookie now.”
“So I’m a pro?”
He laughs, bending toward me. I meet him in the middle, keeping my weight balanced on my board, and kiss him.
Renn’s lips taste like salt, his tongue hot like the sun. His hands are rough against my face as he cups my cheeks with his palms. He kisses me softly and slowly—like he has all the time in the world.
Not like he has less than ninety days to kiss me like this.
Finally, he pulls away. His eyes search mine as he repositions on his board.
“You know,” I say, remembering there are sharks and pulling my feet up on my board. “If I could stop time, I would do it right now.” My cheeks flush as I realize I said that out loud.
“In the ocean?”
My gaze locks with his. “Here with you.”
His pupils widen, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know if I caught him off guard or if he’s unsure how to respond. I’m not sure what to say, either.
Did I just blow everything?
I paddle myself in a half-circle. “I’m going to try to go all the way in this time. My last ride.”
“Get it.”
I swallow hard, emotionally unbalanced from our shared moment, and wait for the next wave. When it comes, I press against the board, pop up, and slide my foot back to the tail. My crouch is low and fairly wide, and my arms are in the position Renn showed me. I think I hear him shouting behind me as I feel the wind in my hair.
“Holy crap,” I say, my legs starting to shake. “I’m doing it. I’m—ah!”
The water rolls awkwardly and tosses me from the board. By the time I resurface, I’m so close to shore that it only takes a minute to find the sand.
I pull my foam buddy out of the water and turn to find Renn. He waves.
“Let’s see what you got, Mr. Brewer,” I shout, shivering despite the heat.
Like a professional athlete, he makes quick work out of getting to his feet and riding a wave that would’ve swamped me all the way to the beach.
I clap for him as he trudges out of the surf. “That was impressive. Very, very nice.”
“That was the goal—to impress you.”
“I was impressed before we got here.”
He grins. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah. I did. It’s so nice here.” I look around us—at the people minding their business. The lush vegetation. The relaxed vibe that makes me feel like I’m in a little piece of heaven. “I think this might be my favorite place on earth. How did you leave it?”
He takes my board from me. “Well, I got fired …”
I laugh. “Oh. Right.”
“I always loved it here, though. I missed my family, of course. But I visited home a lot, and they all came here to visit me off and on. So it wasn’t that bad.”
“Now I’m upset I never got an invitation,” I say, walking alongside him.
