Page 14 of Him Lessons

“Thanks, brah.” Dylan bumped his fist, then turned his gaze back out to sea, slightly chapped lips curving upwards as he lifted his face to the sun.

Luke chuckled. He knew that pose well. “You going into the shop today?”

“Nope. It’s the Sabbath.”

Kyle snorted.

They both knew the only god Dylan worshiped was Poseidon.

They also knew, despite what their friend had said, he’d be in to work at some point. Because if Dylan Kahele wasn’t riding a board, he was shaping one.

“Well, I better be off to help Mary,” Luke said. “If I leave her alone too long, she’ll be re-merching our whole damn quiver.”

Their quiver was the rack of surfboards that spanned the back wall of the store. And Luke’s older sister — who was the general manager of the Sand Spot, and who was also seven and a half months pregnant — had no business lifting any one of them.

“She’s alone?” Kyle’s gaze cut swiftly to his. “Isn’t Reggie running the day shift with her?”

“Reg’s laid up for a few days. Epic wipeout at Black’s.”

Kyle’s brow furrowed. “That dumb-ass. I told him he wasn’t ready for Black’s. What about Carla?”

“She’ll be in at eleven. But you know she got that job at Scripps right? This is her last day.”

Kyle shook his head. As though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would prefer studying the ocean from a lab when they could study it from the top of a surfboard. “I’ll start looking for a replacement.”

“Mare’s already on it,” Luke said. “Don’t even think of stepping on my sister’s toes, bro. You know she’ll just turn around and bust your balls with ’em.”

Dylan chuckled at Kyle’s annoyed expression.

They all knew it was true.

Mary and Kyle were your classic case of oil and water. The two just did not mix. Given their fractious history, it still sometimes surprised Luke that Kyle had hired her to manage his surf shop.

Then again, Luke’s friend might appear the happy-go-lucky, pretty-boy type, but in truth, he was a shrewd and savvy businessman. One who recognized the best when he saw it. Which is why Luke and Dylan called the shots when it came to the Sand Spot’s workshop, Mary ran the front of house, and Kyle was the man in charge down the street at the club. Everyone had their lane, and it was all one big happy family. Most of the time.

“Fine,” Kyle muttered. “Just make sure she’s staffed ASAP. I don’t need Frankenbaby making an early appearance because Scary Mary’s too stubborn to sit her ass down.”

“Yeah,” Dylan chimed in. “Sis needs to chill with the nesting business, brah.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Dropping down to his belly, Luke lifted his legs onto his board and paddled off. When he was a few body lengths away, he heard Kyle laughing behind him. Probably at some joke made at Luke’s expense.

Whatever. Joke was on him because as Luke drew close to the beach, he saw that Shay had indeed raided Kyle’s bag as she was laid out on one of his towels. Which meant there was probably only one towel left since Kyle always brought a backup because Luke usually stole his. Which he was about to do again.

In the shallows, Luke rolled off his board and hauled it up under his arm. Then he strode up the beach, water sluicing down his body, feet sinking into the sand, and a juvenile smirk lifting his cheeks.

Just as he approached Kyle’s bag, however, Luke’s smile faded. Shay was sitting up now, lips pursed in annoyance as she reached behind herself to fasten her top.

“Hey, you! Everything okay?”

She looked up, relaxing at his presence. “Fine,” she said, a slight tension in her voice. One that was immediately explained when she glanced over her shoulder at the hooded figure behind her.

The hooded figure who had a camera phone trained in her direction.

Shit.

“Well, it was good while it lasted,” Shay said dryly. “Looks like the press over here has finally found me.”

Luke sighed. Creeper had never struck him as being some rabid member of the paparazzi, but then again, what did Luke really know about him?

---