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Brady’s jaw ticks for just a second, his dark blue gaze hard and impenetrable like ice, but it’s fleeting and quickly replaced by a smile that’s anything but friendly.
“Well,Mr. Aldridge,you don’t have any reason to worry about the profitability of my time. I’m almost fully booked for the next two weeks. I possibly have a couple of spots left tomorrow, and I was offering you a lesson just on the account of the fact that youmightbecome my boss if your daddy decides to invest.”
Tristan clenches his fists, opening his mouth to retort, but Brady sets his gaze on me. “What about you, kid? Would you like to learn how to surf?”
You know how I lectured Chelsea about how boarding school was great? I take it all back. I know my parents meant well by sending us there, but at this moment, I totally resent them, because no one at St. Mary ever taught me how to speak to boys. Not boys actually, men. I meet Brady’s eyes and no sound comes out when I open my mouth to speak.
He has dark blue eyes framed by long blond lashes that match the golden blond of his hair. High cheekbones slope toward soft-looking lips, and the perfect square of his jaw puts the finishing touch on a face that’s almost too perfect to look real—so perfect that I have to try to speak a second time when I hear Chelsea’s patronizing giggle.
“Ha-ha, Brady! That’s so funny! It’s obvious that you haven’t met my kid sister, or you’d never offer her a surfing lesson. She’s a complete nerd. I’m actually surprised to see her set foot on the beach, the library is more her speed.”
Her tone irks me and it hurts, because every single time we’re with other people, she tries to point out how I’m not cool enough to hang out with her.
So, despite the fact that a surfing lesson would normally be the furthest thing from my mind, I intervene. “I’d actually love a surfing lesson, Brady. You made it look fun.”
Chelsea’s tone is even harsher this time. “Don’t be ridiculous, Greer. You have no sense of balance and absolutely no coordination,” she says, looking at both men. “She was competing in the debate team while I took dance classes for ten years. You’re better off sticking with trying to teachmehow to surf.”
Brady tries to appease my sister, saying that he can certainly find time in his schedule for the owner’s daughters.
“Don’t bother,” Tristan interrupts him, and then he turns toward me. “There’s nothing he can teach you that I can’t. This guy’s an amateur. Trust me, darling, you want to learn from me. Then you’ll be able to say that you learned how to surf from the Coral Cove champion when I win the contest at the end of the summer.”
Brady grinds his jaw so hard that I’m surprised he doesn’t crack any teeth. “Are you competing in the Coral Cove Championship?”
“Yup! I qualified by winning the male solo race in Fiji last winter. My teammates are supposed to arrive today so we can get used to the currents and practice here. Why, are you racing too?” Tristan asks with an arrogant smirk, as if he thought that there’s no way that the other man would have qualified.
“Yeah, my friends and I qualified in Orange County.”
“Well fuck, this year’s race isn’t going to be interesting. I look forward to wiping the beach with your ass, dude.”
The surfing instructor lifts the board he had abandoned on the sand and takes a few steps away from us. “We’ll see who places better,” he grinds out, heading toward the surf shack at the edge of the beach.
“Hey, Brady! We haven’t finished my lesson!” Chelsea shouts to his back, but the man continues walking away, shouting back without even turning. “Your time is up, see you later!”
“You and I need to talk!” Chelsea enters my room without knocking and lowers herself on my bed, making me put my book down with a resigned sigh.
She’s already all dolled up for dinner, wearing a skintight, white, strapless tube dress with a gold zipper decorating the whole back of it.
The neckline is so low that her tits are practically spilling out of the front, and the scrap of fabric—because let’s face it, calling that a dress is a stretch of the imagination—ends several inches above her knee. Basically if she isn’t careful when she sits down, she’ll flash the whole dinner table, and let’s not talk about what would happen if she were to bend over.
I’m sure Daddy hasn’t seen her yet. I fear that he’ll choke on his dinner when he does.
“Yeah, Chel? What can I do for you?” I don’t try to hide my irritation at having my reading time interrupted, and she responds by narrowing her eyes.
“We have to talk about how you need to find your own thing to do while we’re here,sis. Follow Dad and brown nose about how interested you are in the family business, or hole up in the library as usual, but you need to stay out of my way.” She stares me down as if she’s superior in all things.
I arch one eyebrow, at a loss about whatever the heck she’s talking about. I was hoping that Chelsea and I could find our way back to one another this summer and be friends again like it used to be before she decided she was too cool to give me the time of day. Clearly, she’s not going for sister of the year.
If I have to judge by her attitude so far, and by the hard glint in her gaze as she waits for me to say something, I guess that ship has definitely sailed.
“Whatever could you possibly mean, Chel?” I ask, because frankly, I haven’t done anything. My sister is crazy.
She scoffs, attempting to flick her blonde hair away from her tan shoulder but failing to do so because I think she might have overdone it just a tad with the hairspray.
“You’re cockblocking me, Greer! You have the very irritating ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like this morning on the beach.”
Oh, yeah.That.
I sigh, embarrassed for her because whatever seemed to be happening at the beach this morning, it wasn’t pretty. That poor man.
