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Their gazes held with the complexity of the fully loaded question until her shoulders dropped.
“I need help.”
He cupped a hand to his ear. “What was that?”
“Don’t be a shit. I need your help to stand.”
“Was that a request or a demand?”
She let out a loud sigh. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Can you please help me up and get me back to my shop?”
He smiled, remembering how she hated asking for anything. She’d always been stubborn…never wanting to show she was vulnerable. It had both driven him crazy and turned him on at the same time.
In response, he slid his arm through the other strap of his backpack. Bending down, he picked her up and cradled her close to his chest. He hadn’t been prepared for the jolt when he touched her. Or the effect the familiar smell of her coconut shampoo had on him. She flinched, which made him think—or maybe hope—she felt it too.
“What about your board?”
“Hold on to my neck.”
She hesitated a moment before complying, and he had to push aside the groan that had been building inside him.
With her in his arms, he lowered and grabbed his board. Carrying both her and the board, he walked through the sand to the boardwalk.
Abby couldn’t believe her bad luck. First for jogging on the beach at the same time Connor was surfing. Then to fall and twist her ankle while ogling him. To be fair, it was hard not to stare. Watching him surf had been a favorite pastime of hers when they’d dated…even before they’d dated. Hell, it had been how he’d finally gotten a date with her.
But that was a long time ago, and Abby had changed a lot over the years. She’d gone to college for chemistry, specializing in cosmetics, and worked at a major cosmetic manufacturer in Texas for a couple of years, before returning to Pelican Bay three months ago to open her own handmade soap and skincare shop.
Since owning a business involved more than making the products, Abby had taken a couple of basic business classes. Her sister, Natalie, had also agreed to invest—a.k.a. sign her name on the small business loan—and together they were trying to launch this new business.
The last thing Abby needed was a sprained ankle to slow her down…or the distraction of a sexy six-foot surfer.
Connor carried her and his surfboard effortlessly, even though she stood only a few inches shorter than him. When they reached her shop, he put her down so she could remove her key from the pocket of her running shorts and unlock the door.
Stale, barely cool air greeted them, along with a disorganized mess of display cases, ladders, and paint cans. Abby hopped inside, holding on to the doorframe for support until she reached a ladder to lean on.
“Looks like a war zone in here,” he said, laying his surfboard and bag outside the door.
“We’d just started painting when they delivered the counters and display tables. Now it’s making it harder to paint,” Abby said.
In truth, they would have finished the painting last week if she and Nat hadn’t had to move their younger sister, Olivia, into an apartment. Livvie had recently finished school for physical therapy and taken a job working in a rehab center for one of the major hospitals in Philly.
“What kind of store are you opening?” Connor asked.
“One that sells homemade soaps, lotions, and skincare.”
“You make them?”
“I do. That so surprising?” she snapped.
He shook his head, dried strands of hair sticking out in a sexy shag. “Not at all. You always talked about wanting to start your own skincare business. I remember the candles and soaps you used to make.”
Abby avoided his gaze, remembering how they’d used the soaps on each other many times.
“When are you opening?”
“In a week.”
He eyed the interior skeptically before fixing those beautiful green eyes on her. “Let’s check out your ankle.”
