Page 12 of Him Lessons

“Sweet,” he’d say before hitting her with a slow sexy smile. “Who should I ask for?”

She’d smile coyly. Flirtatiously. Maybe even wink. “That would be Andalise Rhodes Whittenbalm. And there are twenty-five letters in my name—”

No, no, no. Don’t add that last part.

Andy had a slight obsession with the number twenty-five. She also had a tendency to repeat certain phrases. This being one of them. People often looked at her weird when she did it. Which probably meant she was being uncool.

And her fantasy self was definitely not uncool, so she’d probably just wink and say, “That would be Andy.”

Smiling, Andy raised her Nikons and fixed her sights back on the surfers, quietly watching them as she continued to spin fanciful tales in her head.

Time slipped by, the sun rose higher, and the beach steadily began to fill with the usual morning crowd. South of the pier, parents were setting up camp as their tots dug through the sand. North of it, scantily clad sunbathers were spreading out on a growing patchwork of towels.

Sunbathers like Shay Martinez. Who was currently sprawled onhistowel.

Andy didn’t like that one bit.

She also didn’t like that Shay had undone the back of her bikini top and that every exposed inch of her was just so sexy and beautiful.

And she also really didn’t like how relaxed the woman was out there. Like the idea of all that sand surrounding her didn’t wig her out. The thought of it clinging to her toes and getting into all of her clothes — or, in Shay’s case, orifices since she was practically naked — like all of that didn’t faze her one bit.

But what rubbed Andy the most, the thing that made her stomach clench with envy, was the utter confidence the woman exuded. Like she’d probably never sat on a bench quietly obsessing over someone in her life. Never struggled for weeks to work up the nerve to finally get up, walk over, and simply say hello.

Andy glanced down at the ground beneath her boots. Then she glanced at the steps. Sand was scattered everywhere, a vast ocean of it waiting to penetrate her shoes as soon as she reached the bottom of those steps.

Oh, screw it!she thought, rising to her feet with a surge of sudden resolve.

Shewouldreach the bottom of the steps today.

Shewouldsit on the sand today.

And shemightsay hello to her Henry today.

Unzipping the large pocket on the side of her cargo pants, Andy stowed her Nikons. Then she strode determinedly over to her bike.

It was an Aventon electric. The men’s version. Andy didn’t care about its high straddle bar because she never wore dresses or skirts anyway, and certainly wouldn’t want to do so while riding a bike. And this all-terrain model had finally gone on sale at her store last month. Tacking on her employee discount, she’d gotten a great deal on it, but even still, it had been expensive.

Not wanting to risk her investment, Andy quickly locked her bike up at the nearest rack before heading down the steps. At the bottom, she hesitated.

Maybe she should take off her boots.

What was worse? Sand sneaking into her shoes or sand sticking to her feet?

Dry sand wasn’t so bad. It was the wet stuff that was really annoying—

“You gonna go, dude?”

“S-sorry,” Andy mumbled, rushing out onto the sand so the surfer stuck behind her on the stairs could pass through with his board.

Welp, looked like the boots were staying on.

After several sinking steps, Andy was pleased to note their snug fit and high cut seemed to be keeping most of the beach out. She glanced around.

Now what?

Her gaze landed on Shay, who appeared to be snoozing blissfully onhistowel. One of the Billabong ones he usually brought in his BUM bag.

Andy’s eyes narrowed.

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