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How did she know that? “The road we took is private, so unless someone knows another way to get down here, things stay quiet.”
“Private meaning cars will get ticketed and towed if they’re caught parked where we are?”
“Probably not, but people don’t know that. Beaches are all public, as is most access, so there’s plenty of shoreline that’s easy for beachgoers.”
“You own the road, don’t you?”
Smart girl. “Yes.”
“The older woman I saw walking when we got here. Was she someone—”
“My mom’s next-door neighbor.”
“That’s nice,” she said with a thoughtful tone of voice that did something funny to the pit of his stomach.
They hopped in the car and talked about random stuff on the way to his mom’s. The conversation flowed with ease.
“This is my first time out of Montana and driving in a convertible, too,” she said.
“Well, I’ve never been to Montana.”
She smiled. “I guess you mostly stick to places near an ocean.”
“Yeah. Open water is definitely attached to my well-being. I need to see it. Be close to it.” Although a picture of Sophie standing atop some mountain, sunlight bathing her in perfect light, wildflowers at her feet, flashed through his mind.
“Someone, I can’t remember who, once said Montana should come with a surgeon general warning that it’s addictive. The sky is big and blue, and the air is always fresh and crisp and scented with pine. There’s a frontier spirit, but also a calmness, beauty in the landscape that slows your pulse.”
“You love it there.”
“I do.” She kept talking, filling him in on her favorite places, gesturing with her hands when she got really amped up about something and barely taking a breath between sentences.
He could listen to her talk all day.
“Teach me a few surf words,” she said, turning and tucking one leg under the other.
The fact that she’d grown so comfortable with him and notaskedhim to teach her had a big smile spreading across his face. With her sweet-as-sin voice and enthusiasm for just about everything, he didn’t mind being told what to do. His mind raced to demands she might make in the bedroom.
“Like what’s a brohah?” she said. “I heard it yesterday.” She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, but a few unruly red strands flew around her face. She kept swiping at them, which he found damn cute.
“A brohah is a dude or guy.”
She nodded and stared at him, waiting for more.
“Uh, fibro means surfboard. Chocka means cool or awesome. Doke means unbelievable or crazy.”
“Fibro, chocka, doke,” she whispered. “What else?”
“Noodled is what you were today.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Exhausted.”
“I’m not anymore. Go on.”
“The rear of a board is called the tail. And if I call you Sheila, it means I think you’re chocka.” He slowed the car as they entered his old neighborhood.
Sophie’s eyes darted around the car like she was trying to recall what chocka was, and then she grinned. “Thank you.” She settled back into her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, the smile staying on her face.
“You’re welcome.”
He parked the car in front of his childhood home, the familiar tangle of nerves settling deep in his gut. Under this roof, the harsh words his dad had rattled off on a regular basis always came flooding back.
