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“Hope you’re not trying to set Jenn up!” Abigail warned. “Remember, the cards said she’s destined for—Enrrriiiiiiquuuueee!” she howled, waggling her fingers like a psychic.

They all burst out laughing as the first bottle of fizz popped open.

Chapter 14

Beltane had been a wild success—tarot cards, sparkling wine, scandalous party games, and the surreal experience of being introduced to an actual future Clan Chief in a packed island pub. Jenn still couldn’t tell if Lizzie had properly clocked the way Ally had been eyeing her up all evening. Maybe not. The Lizzie of Beltane was like a glammed-up alternate-universe version of her friend—louder, freer, a little sloshy on the bubbles. Jenn liked it. It suited her.

The fizz had worn off, and Hellisay had settled back into its smug, sunlit calm. By the time early June rolled around, the island had stretched itself out under blue skies and longer evenings. Saints Bay was buzzing with seasonal workers and sun-chasing visitors—even the sheep seemed more carefree and relaxed.

Jenn was walking along Hellisay Bay with Lizzie one evening after yoga. The Bay was looking ludicrously postcard-picture perfect. It was on the east side, so the waters were beautifully turquoise and flat calm, the waves gently lapping against the shoreline. Her toes were digging into sand that was as pristine and pale as could be. There was barely a shell or strand of seaweed to be found. The rose-gold sunset from the west was stretching over to the Bay, casting long and mysterious shadows across the sand dunes.

Lizzie was updating Jenn on the latest shenanigans from Beira’s Break down in Beiradale—Lizzie’s boyfriend, David, was one of the full-timers there. The airport heard all the gossip, but Beira’s Break was the source of a lot of it. It was the epicentre of summer chaos—water sports by day, drama by night. With instructors rotating in from all over the world, it was less ‘Learn to Surf’ and more ‘Love Island with Wetsuits’.

“Okay. It’s decided. You, me, David, and Javi. Friday night. Bonfire and beers on Tràigh Beira. You’re coming,” Lizzie said firmly.

Jenn arched an eyebrow. “Javi?”

“The new surfing instructor I mentioned. Spanish. Ridiculously good-looking. Probably allergic to shirts.”

Jenn tried not to look intrigued. “And this is supposed to be a double date?”

“Well, you’ve been working like a demon. And you need a wee summer romance. He’s already agreed to it, by the way. David asked him earlier.”

“Wait, so I’ve been set up?”

Lizzie smiled smugly. “You’re welcome.”

Might as well. What’s the harm?

* * *

By Friday night, Jenn found herself nursing a cold beer, feet buried in warm sand, and wondering if she’d misjudged just how ‘casual’ this was going to be. The sun hadn’t quite set, and the sea still glittered gold. David was fussing with firewood while Lizzie handed out marshmallows on sticks. This was the first time she’d properly interacted with David—she’d only seen him in passing previously. He was like the classic ageing surfer dude. Dishevelled and amiable, with a whiff of weed. She’d never really understood their attraction, but each to their own, she supposed. And then Javi arrived.

A walking cliché. Sun-kissed and sea-salted hair. Permanently messy, of course. An easy grin on his face. The most distracting cheekbones Jenn had encountered, though—she’d give him that. He was shirtless, obviously—just board shorts and a white surfboard under one arm like a prop from a catalogue. Jenn had to remind herself to blink.

“Hola!” he called, dropping the board with a grin. “You must be the yoga goddess.”

Jenn laughed, but part of her thought of someone who’d never use a line like that—someone who’d probably just raise one brow in that maddening, knowing way.

“That’s one way to introduce yourself.”

He sauntered closer, holding out a hand. His grip was warm, a little sandy. “I’m Javi. And you are… trouble, yes?”

He was definitely showing his youth. Enrique would have a much smoother line.

“Jenn,” she said, drily. “And no more trouble than average.” Lizzie, helpfully, waggled her eyebrows behind him.

They sat around the fire as the sky darkened, drinking and laughing while they all exchanged stories. Lizzie and David had met at a marine biology institute in Mexico. Javi was one of life’s wanderers—he spent most of his time travelling around the world’s surfing spots and then working at home in Bilbao during the off-season. To be honest, there were a lot of parallels with Jenn’s life before she came to Hellisay. Javi told stories about surfing in Mexico, sleeping in a hammock in Bali, and once accidentally joining a Swedish hen party in Australia. Jenn shared some of her adventures. A beach party in Ko Pha-ngan. A particularly grim hostel in Brazil. Partying with an Irish stag do in Poland. They felt a little dated now, though. But Javi seemed to like them.

It was easy. Too easy, maybe. His attention was flattering, his smile charming, and Jenn felt that low, warm hum of attraction that didn’t ask for anything except this moment. She didn’t have to think too deeply about her past, or her future. Just the firelight, the fizz of beer, and the weight of Javi’s gaze.

He grinned suddenly. “You ever surfed?”

“I’ve tried. It went badly.”

“Then tomorrow, I teach you. You bring yoga poise, I bring surfing prowess. Deal?”

Jenn raised her bottle to clink his. “Deal.”