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Abby showed up the next day and every day after.
Shaking her head to clear away the memory, Abby rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. There’d be no more sleep, so she may as well start her day.
She quickly dressed in running shorts, a tank top, and sneakers. After grabbing a bottle of water, she went downstairs and let herself out the rear entrance, refusing to walk through the store and the reminder of all that needed to be done.
There’d be time to freak about work later. Now she needed to clear her head.
The benefit of living above her storefront was its prime location along the boardwalk, only a few steps away from the beach. Abby veered left and jogged along the water, pacing herself. She did a circuit around the lighthouse before turning and heading past where she started and the newly renovated amusement pier.
The sun had peeked past the horizon and was slowly making its way into a new day. Watching the sun rise over the Atlantic was one thing she’d missed most after leaving Pelican Bay nine years ago, a year after Hurricane Samantha hit and wrecked the small New Jersey barrier island. In the months since she’d returned, Abby had made a point of watching it rise every day. Each sunrise looked different and brought her a joy she’d experienced nowhere else.
Usually, she had this part of the beach to herself, but she caught the outline of someone in the water.
A surfer.
Her heart lurched as she got closer.
Could it be…
It was hard to be sure from the distance, but once he rose on the board and got into position, Abby recognized the form…the body…the man.
Connor Maguire.
After riding the wave in, he grabbed the board and paddled out even further. He straddled the board with his back to the shoreline, like a god calling to the waves. Then, with the ease and swiftness of the boy she remembered, he turned and paddled toward shore, rising at the perfect moment to get the lift and rush he needed to propel him forward.
Abby continued to run, mesmerized by his form, by the way his hair and body looked against the backdrop of the rising sun. The damn man was as beautiful as ever.
Despite the magnetic pull, she had every intention of running past him.
If only she had been watching where she was going.
When she stepped on something in the sand that caused her ankle to turn, all she could do was cry out as her knee buckled, and she started to fall.
Chapter Two
Connor sat astride his surfboard and took in the rising sun while he waited for the next swell. The rim of the yellow orb was visible just above the ocean. Shades of orange stretched along the horizon, as though it was giving the earth a warm embrace to welcome a new day.
He’d missed this…missed living minutes from the beach and being able to take in his fill of it every day. Having lived in Tampa the past ten years, Connor had access to beaches, but nothing beat having one practically in his backyard.
Since moving back, Connor had started each day jogging on the beach or surfing. Occasionally, he’d mix it up with yoga. All part of his lifestyle to keep his mind focused and clear. Daily physical exercise had been required when he was in rehab nine years ago for a substance abuse disorder. The first three weeks of his forty-five-day stint had been hell, but once he got through the worst of the withdrawal, he’d felt different…alive, with an appreciation of life he’d never had while high.
Now, he was a new man with a new purpose in life. And he intended to make good on all the promises he’d made to his family and, more importantly, to himself.
There was no going backward…only forward.
At the start of a swell, he flipped onto his stomach and paddled with long, even strokes. When he felt the lift of the wave, he popped up, landing in a crouch on both feet, his arms outstretched to maintain balance. The rush and buildup as the wave propelled him toward shore flowed through him as though he was one with the wave…the ocean. Like Poseidon, who could control the water and waves with a flick of his trident.
As the wave broke, he saw a girl running on the beach, her dark ponytail bouncing behind her. He was preparing to go back out for another ride when the girl stumbled, and she went down.
With no lifeguards on duty, the beach was empty. When the girl stayed on the ground, not moving, Connor paddled toward shore, grabbed his board, and ran out of the water.
Dropping his board in the sand, he kneeled next to the girl, who had sat up and was holding on to her ankle. “You okay?”
The girl lifted her chin and squinted in the sunlight. “I’m fine,” she snapped.
Abby.
“You’re hurt, Abby,” Connor said. “Let me see your ankle.”
