Page 23 of Lowering His Guard

He sighs. “I don’t know. Hang out on the beach, I guess.”

“What about your dad? Isn’t he around to hang with?”

“He’s probably working out. He works out all the time.”

And it shows. Oh, surfing goddess in the sky, does it show. I have never seen shoulders as defined as Brock’s, and I traveled the pro surfing tour. I bet he has abs for days and days. Would those abs ripple beneath my hands? Is his skin smooth to the touch?

I force those thoughts away. Fantasizing about a man in front of his teenage son is in poor taste. And just plain icky. Especially when the son appears a bit lost.

I grin when an idea hits me. “Why don’t you join me this morning?”

His blue eyes, which are the exact shade of Brock’s, light up. “Yeah? What are you doing?”

I was planning on surfing but I put that thought away. I can surf whenever I want. I practically live on this beach.

“How do you feel about go-karts?”

He smirks. “Go-karts? I’d kick your ass… er… behind.”

I chuckle. “You can try. Shipwreck Speedway is different from any go-karting track you’ve ever seen before.”

“Shipwreck Speedway? What is it with this island and goofy names?”

I ruffle his hair. “Do not make fun of smugglers. We learn to prank from a young age.”

“Smuggler or not, I’m still winning.”

I sigh. “Oh, the delusions of the youth.”

“Youth? You’re not much older than me.”

“Why, Jace?” I blink at him. “Is this your way of asking how old I am?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I’m thirty-one. Too old for you.”

“But a good age for my dad.”

I bark out a laugh. “Your dad isn’t interested in me.”

“He—”

I hold up a hand to cut him off. I’m not discussing the possibility of a romantic relationship with Brock with his son. “Are you in? Go-karting?”

“I’m in.”

“Cool.” I nod to his phone. “Ask your dad if it’s okay.”

“No need.” He motions to the beach where Brock and his teammates are. When did they show up? And how did I not notice?

I lock up the shed, grab my bag, and motion for him to precede me.

“Dad,” he hollers as we approach.

Brock immediately switches directions and aims for us. “What’s up, buddy? Class over already?”

“Class was cancelled,” I explain. “Which you would have known if you had given me your phone number.”