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He leaned a hand on the door, right over her shoulder. Warmth radiated off his skin, and she could see the pinkness in his cheekbones—he’d been out on the water all afternoon, she’d guessed. A sudden pang caught at her—damn, sometimes she missed home too much. Missed her horse. Missed being outside all day. Missed the ranch. She pushed back her shoulders. This was no time to wish things had gone differently. She was here for a fresh start—and the move kept her close to her dad.
Surfer dude shrugged one shoulder and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Trent. I was just passing by and heading out for sushi, and I hate to eat alone.”
She shook his hand—she had unexpected calluses. He also had a strong but gentle grip. He’d have made a good hand on the ranch.No, not going there.She bit her lower lip, then said, “Uh, well, I can’t even imagine eating raw fish.”
His grin flashed again, inviting her to share his good humor. “How do you feel about seafood?”
“I like trout. Salmon?”
“Oh, dude, you’re a California girl now and seriously cannot be dissing the local catch. Come on, I know just the place to get your feet wet.”
He grabbed her hand, but she hung back, waving at her clothes. “Shouldn’t I change?”
“Into something friendly?” She blinked. He leaned closer. He had flecks of gold and green in his eyes. The breath caught in her chest. “That’s a joke,” he said, suddenly serious. “And a bad one, it seems.”
Chloe looked at him. He was a stranger—she didn’t know him. She was used to a town where she knew just about everyone, had grown up with them, had gone to a school with thirty other kids. This was all new to her. But the street had plenty of traffic, both cars and people on foot, the sun was still out, and he wasn’t trying to mug her.
Where had that thought come from? Was it the muscles she’d glimpsed earlier, outlined by his T-shirt? Or something else about him that screamed danger? He was just another surfer—you could see them strolling the boardwalks along the ocean every day.
She gave a nod and a vague wave at the street with her free hand. “Okay. Uh, I’m only a few blocks from here.”
He smiled. “You look perfect.” He swung her hand like he was walking with her, and that smile warmed her.
Her knees wobbled. Mrs. Smythson—who’d looked after her and Dad on the ranch—had warned her about guys like him. That warning wasn’t helping. The bells might clang, and she could tell herself something wasn’t right—guys didn’t just hit on her, not with the way she dressed in baggy everything.
But he was like an ocean wave—he hit hard, and she couldn’t resist the drag, the pull of his personality. She gave in, vowing that if it even barely looked like he was trying to kidnap her, she was hitting him with the can of mace in her purse.
He pulled her with him to a tiny restaurant not even a block away. She’d passed the place every day and hadn’t given it a second glance. Trent held the door for her—someone had taught him manners—and she stepped inside. She had to pause on the doorstep to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
Trent put a hand on the small of her back and she gave a shiver. Something about his touch set off not only alarms, but a nice fire, low in her belly. She was going to have to watch that.
He guided her to a booth and slipped in opposite her. From the photos on the walls, she was going to guess this place served Asian food. Japanese, she thought. She put her elbows on the table, and he waved at a waitress. The girl who came over had tattoos and piercings—something else Chloe wasn’t used to.
Trent asked, “Mind if I order for us? I promise to only get cooked things for you.”
Chloe had to smile at that. “Okay. But no chopsticks, and can I get an iced tea?”
She hadn’t done that much lately—smiling. But she couldn’t help herself around Trent. She decided then and there that she was going to enjoy herself tonight. What’s the worst that could happen?
3
Somehow she ended up trying the raw salmon—it was great, not fishy like she’d thought it would be. She’d also ended up talking about herself—a lot.
How she’d never seen herself living anywhere other than Wyoming, or doing anything other than marrying her high school sweetheart and becoming Mrs. Sam Collins. But Sam had gone off to serve in Afghanistan, met someone else, and hadn’t come home. Then Dad’s wreck had brought them both to San Diego.
Trent had nodded over that. “Best sports docs in the world, if you ask me. A board slammed me, but the docs put me right.” He broke off eating—he’d ordered something called tempura, fried seafood and crispy vegetables cooked in a batter, and the sushi for himself. He rubbed his right shoulder.
She grinned. “I’m surprised you’d ever admit you couldn’t ride a wave.”
“Nah—that’s the sport. Sometimes you ride the wave. Sometimes the wave rides you. You gotta be Zen about it. You about done with the food? Wanna walk to the beach? Sun’s going down.”
Chloe nodded. She reached for the money in her pocket, but Trent was already up and had paid the bill. “My treat. Consider it a kind of late welcome to the big SD.” He leaned closer and held out a hand. “That stands for San Diego.”
She grinned and took his hand. “Guess I may have to change my mind about raw fish. I now know what the grizzlies see in it.”
“Grizzly? That’s no way to talk about your old man. So, just how wrecked was he?”
She rolled her eyes. “Try completely. Rolled his truck three times, wasn’t wearing his seat belt. The docs said he was lucky to be alive, but he’s not going to be happy unless he can get back on a horse again. We had to lease out the ranch to a hunting outfitter to cover the medical bills, but Dad’s going to need a few years here just to get back to being able to walk.”
