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After a few more rounds, the board stabilized.
A wave rolled toward us, and he pointed me face first at the wave. I reared back, getting smacked in the face with salty water.
“Hang on to the board,” he ordered.
“I’m trying not to drown,” I hissed.
I swear I heard him chuckle.
If another wave wouldn’t have been coming, I would have turned and given him a piece of my mind. Instead, I hung on like he asked, getting smacked again by the water.
“Can we turn around now?” I asked. This wasmiserable.
Without replying, he turned my board sideways. “You’re going to ride this one. Once you get some speed, stand up. Remember to slide your feet to get in the right position.”
The wave swelled under me, picking up the board and propelling me quickly back to the shore. The rush of the water blending with the speed of the wind over my face was... almost magical.
So magical I wasn’t going to ruin it by standing up and falling off.
I rode the wave until the board slowed and I could step back into the water, careful not to land on any stingrays.
I turned to see Diego walking toward me, his abs rippling with each step through the water.Whydid he have to look so good?
His lips stretched into a heart-melting grin. “That was great!” he said. “Now you know the feel of the board. Let’s get on the beach and practice standing up again so you can do it next time.”
Grateful for a break from the relentless waves, I bent to grab my board, but Diego quickly reached to carry it for me. “I’ve got it.”
I unclipped the strap at my ankle, remembering the complete sense of comfort I’d felt when he tugged the leash and spoke those words.
I followed Diego back from the packed sand to the softer beach, each grain sticking to my wet feet and ankles.
“Okay, show me what you’ve got,” he said by the board.
I did as he asked, but now that my shorts and rash guard were wet, they were riding up more than ever. I stood atop the board and pulled my shirt down so it showed less of my midriff and then tugged at my shorts.
Diego’s voice was short as he said, “Try again.”
I gave him a confused look. I thought we’d had a moment together, but maybe I had been wrong. This hot and cold treatment from him was starting to give me whiplash.
Without saying a word, I lay in the middle of the board, then pushed up, putting my front leg in the center of the board and my back leg behind me.
“Remember, your feet need to be parallel,” he said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.
I let out a sigh and straightened up, pulling at my shorts again. I really needed to find a new swimsuit if I ever did this again.
“Again,” he barked.
I gave him a look before bending over and lying flat on the board. Why was he pushing me so hard? It didn’t even matter if I could do this or not. I was about a hundred percent sure that I was never surfing again unless I suddenly developed a taste for saltwater and humiliation.
With another breath, I pushed myself up, angling my feet like he said.
He was quiet, and I glanced up under my eyelashes, ready for the next snappy command.
“Better,” he said gruffly.
I readjusted my legs from the stance and adjusted my shorts again.
His hand covered mine, resting right above my thigh. His voice was husky as he said, “If you keep covering those beautiful thighs, I’m going to lose my mind.”
