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“That must be it.” Kyle glanced away from Andy to the front of the store where Reggie was hobbling along, drawing the blinds on all the windows. “We’re out there most mornings. Maybe you’ve seen us surfing.”
“Once or twice.” The girl’s shifty-eyed gaze met Luke’s for a moment, narrowed at his smirk, then flickered back to her boss.
“Cool.” Kyle offered Andy another warm smile. “Well, welcome to the team!”
“Thanks.”
“Of course. And, hey, you’re also welcome to join us tonight if you like.”
“Join you?”
Kyle chuckled at the girl’s confused expression. “For lip-sync night. It should be pretty lit at the club.”
“Oh. I’m not sure I can.”
“Don’t worry. It’s eighteen and older tonight,” Kyle said, assuming as Luke did that Andy wasn’t yet legal to drink. Because, really, what other reason could she have for declining an invitation from a man she was so clearly besotted with?
“I’m sorry,” Andy said, growing even pinker, “but I already have plans.” Luke cocked his head at the girl. She ignored his ‘what the eff’ glance and stammered on. “It’s j-just that I have to swim laps tonight.”
Swim laps?Was she for real with this?
Andy swallowed. “Twenty-five of them. I always do twenty-five.”
Okay, maybe shewasfor real.
Dylan grimaced around a mouthful of electrolytes.
Yeah, that look said it all. They’d seen plenty of girls crash and burn around their boy over the years but never witnessed one go up in flames quite so fast. At this point, Andy’s face was so red she looked like the sunburned kid from a week ago.
This chick needed a save.
Stat.
Folding his arms over his chest, Luke tipped his chin towards Andy like she was Summer-flippin’-Sanders. “Yeah, my girl over here is training for the Olympics.”
The mystified expression Kyle had been wearing for the last few seconds cleared. “Wow! That’s awesome! I did a little competitive swimming in high school. What’s your stroke?”
Andy’s mouth — which had dropped open at “Olympics” — abruptly closed. “Freestyle,” she managed after a swallow.
“Sweet. Mine too. Well, I hope the training goes well tonight, and maybe I’ll catch you at the club another time.”
“Maybe,” Andy mumbled.
Kyle’s attention shifted to Dylan. “So how ’bout you, Kahele? I could use another judge for the lip-sync battle.”
Dylan pushed away from the counter. “Not in this lifetime. You pay me to build boards, brah.”
“Tonight I’ll pay you to judge college coeds covering Cardi B.”
Dylan shot him the deuces before disappearing inside the workshop.
Kyle let out an exasperated snort. “Okay, everyone here sucks except Rash.”
Andy glanced over at Reggie, who was attempting to sweep the floors. “Perhaps Reg could cut out early. He’d probably be more useful to you judging the coeds than cleaning up here.”
Jabbing a finger at her, Kyle hit her with a Tom Cruise–level grin. “I knew I liked you.”
Andy’s smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds, a slow-dawning radiance. As though the five words Kyle had just uttered meant more to her than winning any Olympic event.
