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I nod, her reaction making me feel even more unnerved by everything that’s going on. "I have to do this, Sam. Miranda made it seem like she needed me there. She's my only sister, and... I have to go."
Sam’s eyes meet mine, worry and understanding battling in her eyes, before finally handing me my sundress—or I guess her sundress. I quickly throw it on, trying not to show how upset this entire conversation is making me. "Well, take all the time you need. Rick can run the shop,” she finally says.
Emerging from the changing room, we’re met by Greg's beaming face. "Well hello, Tilly. I was just talking to Mr. Thomas Hillcrest."
My cheeks warm at the mention of Tommy. Greg's knowing smile says it all—he’s been briefed on whatever’s going on between Tommy and me, even though neither of us has said anything aloud to each other. That irks me too and I’m suddenly desperate to leave the surf shack.
"Yeah, it was a good surf lesson." I try to deflect, hoping Greg will catch my silent plea to drop the subject. But he is too oblivious to me. He’s suddenly caught Sam’s giant waist in his hands, snuggling into her neck from behind. “And what’s all this for?” Sam asks through her giggling.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about when we met. All that heat and flirting.” He’s looking at me now, his brows wiggling.
And now I’m just flat-out embarrassed. "I'm gonna go. I'll text you later, Sam," I say, eager to escape Greg’s teasing. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t have a clue that there is more being said between me and Greg.
At the front of the shop, Tommy's chatting with new customers, pulling me into yet another awkward situation. It's unbelievable that so much has made me uncomfortable at the surf shop. Typically it’s the one place on the planet that I always feel a sense of belonging. It's another sign that my groove has been thrown off by my family.
Okay, and Tommy. The damn man has me so flipped upside down about things that I’m surprised I’m still standing upright.
When he sees me, he waves me over. "Oh, this is the instructor right here. Heya, Til, got a sec?"
Despite my desire to leave, I pause, knowing I should at least address the potential students. "Sure thing. What’s up?"
"These gals were looking for a lesson," Tommy says, his charm on full display. He’s got that brilliant smile that makes all panties spontaneously combust within a three-mile radius. The ladies—who are much too young for him by the way—are eating it up.
"I'm out for the next week but next Monday—"
One of them turns back to Tommy, her flirtation thinly veiled. "Maybe you could give us a lesson?" Her eyelashes flutter in a way that makes my stomach churn and I’m done entertaining them. Nope. Not going to help Tommy flirt with anyone.
"He's not an instructor. In fact, he doesn’t even work here," I snap.
Their glares sting, but Tommy just laughs it off, running a hand through his hair. "She’s right. But I do know the owners."
The taller woman leans over the counter, employing a tactic as old as time to draw attention to her boobs. Oh hell no. She better put that nearly-underage cleavage away before I slap her right in those perky tits. “He’s hardly ever here,” I add, crossing my arms.
"Yes, but you're that surfer guy. The one that got bit by the shark and then cheered on top of the ambulance?" Tommy's laughter fills the air, and the woman seems all too happy with herself.
That’s the last straw for me. The thought that these women believe they can saunter in and charm Tommy right in front of me is ludicrous. Acting on impulse, I move to Tommy's side, wrapping my arm around his waist and placing my other hand on his chest. I look up at him, smirking as I bat my eyelashes. "You know where the appointment book is, honey?"
Tommy, taken aback, quickly recovers. “Sure, babe,” he says, patting my hand on his chest before grabbing the red binder on the counter. He opens it up and flips through a few pages then points down at the schedule. "Looks like you do have next Monday open."
I keep my smile steady when I turn back to the ladies. "Can you guys be here around nine?"
Their response is as predictable as the tides. They stand taller, but admit they are 'busy,' Monday.
“Then I guess we’re done here?” I turn my attention back to Tommy. “We have other things to do.” There’s no missing my innuendo. The only way it could have been clearer is if I flat out said we’re about to go hump each other into oblivion.
“Ugh, yeah. Come on, Shel,” the taller one says to her friend. They both keep their glares on me before turning around to walk out. By the way they were killing me with their eyes, I half expect one of them to knock over one of our displays of sunscreen on the way out. But the only retaliation is an extra sway in their hips, probably to show Tommy what he’s missing out on. Ha! What a joke since he’s still staring at me.
Keeping my arm around Tommy, I face him. "You were flirting with them."
He offers a nonchalant shrug. "I was just being nice. Is that wrong?"
"No, just annoying. And what was that bullshit about a shark?"
His laughter echoes again before he turns us to face each other more directly, wrapping his arm around me. It’s the closest we’ve ever been and I have to fight to keep my breathing steady. "I have no clue, but it was hilarious. They did upload a video of me online from the injury at the tournament, guess it’s making the rounds."
Despite my irritation, I hold him a bit tighter, muttering about "stupid little flirts" while avoiding his gaze.
He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch sending a sprinkle of goosebumps along every inch of me. "I like jealous Tilly."
