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“My dad taught me when I was a kid. He got into it when he was a teenager living out in California, then kept it up.” Michael looked where Caitlin’s gaze had fallen, a small smile coming onto his face. “And he had to drag me out there.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, his smile growing. “He insisted on pulling me out there and I hated it. Every single time we went for another round, I fought against the waves. But I kept going back because I was stubborn and didn’t want to admit defeat. After a few more mornings out on the water, I realized that I couldn’t fight the waves. I had to just ride them. And when I realized that, it all clicked.”
“That’s really impressive,” Caitlin said. “Your tenacity and your philosophy on going with the waves instead of fighting them.”
“I don’t think everyone would believe they’re good qualities.” He chuckled. “I drove my parents crazy. But I think my mix of stubbornness and being easygoing has helped me out a lot in life. I let go of things that I can’t control, but if I can control it, I’ll go after it with everything in me.”
His eyes locked onto hers as he spoke. Caitlin downed more of her iced coffee to hide her warming cheeks. Was she someone he wanted? Or could she be? Someone he dedicated himself to like surfing, which he pursued to the point of becoming a pro?
Thinking about that made her heart thump in a way that made her unsettled.
“I would have loved to see some of your early surfing attempts,” Caitlin joked. “You’re so good that it’s hard to imagine you not being great.”
“You’ve seen me surf?” His eyebrows went up.
“Yeah, I watched a little bit.” Her face got even hotter. “I’ve seen you while I was at The Crab. I guess you were in that favorite spot of yours.”
Michael just laughed, but she didn’t feel as if he was laughing at her. The warm, rich sound of it was contagious, making the blush fade from her cheeks.
“So what made you get into cooking and the food business?” he asked.
“It’s not that different from you learning to surf, actually,” Caitlin said. “My mom taught me how to make a recipe—it was her shrimp scampi, but she put a twist on it that made it beyond delicious—but I seriously messed it up. It was basically inedible the first time I made it and I was so mad. It was my favorite recipe of hers too, and I wanted to make it just as good as hers was. Putting in the time to practice made me fall in love with it.”
“And did you ever master her recipe?”
“I did. I was thinking of putting it on the menu on the cruise, actually.”
“I can’t wait to taste it.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to stubbornness.”
“To stubbornness.”
They tapped their glasses of iced coffee together. Caitlin smiled as she took a sip, all of the tension and awkwardness she’d felt at the beginning of lunch melting away. Maybe she wasn’t as annoyed at Alissa for doing this after all.
* * *
Dane didn’t like to worry, but the fact that Alissa hadn’t texted him back about getting breakfast had his stomach in knots. Getting breakfast on Sundays was one of her favorite things to do. She always ordered a huge stack of pancakes and inhaled them before succumbing to a leisurely nap on Dane’s couch, cuddled up against his side.
Her apartment wasn’t far, so he decided to stop by. She’d given him a key, so he let himself in.
“Alissa?” Dane called, stepping inside. Some TV show was playing toward the back of her apartment, but based on the music, Dane knew it had to be Pearl.
He walked through Alissa’s apartment, his eyes narrowing as he took everything in. It was as familiar as his own home was at this point, so he knew something was off right away. But what? He peered into the living room and stared for a few moments.
Alissa’s touch was gone—her little knickknacks had been put away and her outrageous collection of throw pillows had been tamed. The quirky painting of two cats sitting at typewriters in an office that she’d found at a thrift store was gone too. It was definitely bizarre and stood out even among her unique decor, but she kept it because she joked that it was them in cat form—her, the brown tabby, and him the orange short-hair.
She, or someone else, had replaced it with a boring watercolor that came with the apartment. The previous tenants hadn’t wanted it and Alissa had tucked it into a closet.
He was right about the source of the sound—the little girl was sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, watching a movie on her tablet. Caitlin was at the stove, pushing some home fries around on a pan. Pearl looked up and waved at him, giving him a big grin. Dane couldn’t help but smile back and said hello.
“Oh, hey, Dane,” Caitlin said, looking over her shoulder at him.
“Sorry to intrude. I thought Alissa would be here.” He leaned his hip against the counter. “Have you seen her?”
“I haven’t,” Caitlin said. “I assumed she was with you, so I’m guessing she’s at The Outlet or The Crab.”
“Ah, okay. I’ll check the office, then.” Dane frowned. “Also, do you know why Alissa redecorated the living room?”
