Page 50 of Ride the Wave

‘Oh yes,’ I nod, glancing at Leo. ‘Leo made sure of that.’

He suddenly looks very interested in the till, refusing to meet my eye. We never actually addressed the fact that he pretended not to know anything about wine before his lie was rumbled by Marina.

‘He learnt everything he knows from his old man,’ Adriano tells me, nudging him with his elbow. ‘Feel free to put that in the article.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘So how can we help you? Are you here to talk to Leo? I would have thought by now you’d be bored of hearing him talk.’

‘I can’t,’ Leo says, finally speaking up. ‘I have a lesson booked.’

‘Yes. I know,’ I say.

‘I thought we were quiet this week. Who is it with, Leo?’ Adriano asks.

‘It’s a last-minute booking, made yesterday online,’ he explains, typing something into the computer while both of them peer at the screen. ‘Someone called—’

‘Flora O’Sullivan,’ I finish for him.

They both turn to face me.

‘You know her?’ Adriano asks, intrigued.

‘In a manner of speaking.’ I swallow the lump in my throat. ‘I… I am her. I made the booking.’

Leo stares at me, his forehead creased.

‘You are… Flora O’Sullivan?’ Adriano checks, puzzled.

I nod slowly. ‘Yep. Sorry, not the most original fake name. Flora is my best friend and O’Sullivan is the surname of her partner. Kieran O’Sullivan? You know, the tennis player.’

Leo looks baffled, glancing down at the screen and then back at me. ‘But Flora O’Sullivan is signed up for a course of three surf lessons.’

‘That’s right. Today, tomorrow and Friday. I booked it under a fake name so that you wouldn’t be put off by, you know,’ I gesture to myself, ‘teaching me.’

‘I think this is great!’ Adriano exclaims. ‘You are in safe hands, Iris. I’ll leave you to it, I have things to do, but good luck to you both!’

He disappears back through the doors behind the counter, chuckling to himself.

‘I don’t understand,’ Leo says, lines etched into his forehead. ‘You don’t want to surf.’

‘What, because in your head, I’m a duchess wandering around London town with a champagne coupe in my hand?’ I ask defensively, crossing my arms.

He gives me a hint of a smile. ‘I don’t remember giving you a title.’

‘I added that detail.’

‘The fact that you may be a city girl has nothing to do with it, Your Grace,’ he assures me, amused. ‘The reason I’m surprised is because you told me that you hate the beach, so why would you suddenly be interested in surfing?’

‘It looks fun.’

He doesn’t seem convinced.

I sigh, tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter. ‘Look, are you going to teach me to surf or not? Because if you refuse then I would like my money back.’

As his eyes search my face, I stare back at him defiantly.

‘All right, London,’ he says eventually, ‘let’s go shred.’

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