Page 2 of Married to Murder
“Tanner.” His firm hand pressed mine.
“Nice to meet you, Tanner.” The feel of his fingers on mine had my pulse spiking. I pulled my hand away, hoping I didn’t look as rattled as I felt. “So that’s one hundred and eighty dollars for two hours. Sound good?” I arched one brow.
He didn’t even blink. “Yep.”
It must have been a nice feeling to be able to drop almost two hundred dollars on the spur of the moment without a care in the world. My reality was slightly different. Most months, I had more money going out than coming in. But at least I lived my life on my terms. All I needed was the ocean and my board to make my life complete. Guys like Tanner had to be leveraged up to their eyeballs to afford surfing lessons and thousand-dollar suits.
I ran his card and then handed it back to him. I came around the counter and went to a rack of trunks I had on clearance. “Large or extra-large?” I asked, riffling through the brightly-colored swimwear. I was tempted to run my gaze over his body because he was a good-looking guy, but I didn’t want to make things awkward. Teaching someone to surf was already up close and personal.
He patted his flat stomach. “I’d say large.”
I pulled a pair of blue-and-yellow trunks from the rack and handed them to him. Then I grabbed a wet suit from another rack. “Trunks first, then wet suit over. Dressing room is at the back. Take your time. I’m going to wax our boards while you change.”
“Okay.” He walked cautiously down the hallway to the changing room.
I smiled at how hesitant he seemed. My little shop probably felt like a hovel to him. While the place was small and cluttered, it was clean. I made sure of that. I hated filth. It reminded me of times when showers and a clean bed had been just a dream. I was never going back to that way of life, and I kept those negative thoughts of the past at bay by making sure my shop was my own little organized space.
I grabbed a nice wide, long board for Tanner. Then I laid down a thick base coat of wax on the surface in thick diagonal lines. Next I rubbed on the softer, tackier wax used as a top coat so he’d be able to grip the board better with his toes. By the time I had the board nicely waxed, he came out of the back room wearing only his trunks.
He carried himself confidently, as if he was used to being admired. He had a long, lanky torso with a perfect six-pack. He was tanned, although not as tanned as me, and his legs were muscular with a light dusting of dark hair. I was embarrassed at how attractive I found him. I saw half-naked people all day long working on the beach, but I didn’t usually even notice. Something about Tanner got to me more than usual. Maybe it was because he seemed so out of place. Even in just a pair of ten-dollar swim trunks, he looked twenty times more sophisticated than me or my usual clientele.
“Am I supposed to wear these under the wet suit?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“Yeah.” I hoped he hadn’t noticed I’d been gawking at him. “It seems warm today, but the water will be cold.”
He patted his hips. “Won’t the suit bunch up?”
“Not usually. I have some Speedos you can wear instead?” If he took me up on that offer, I was a little afraid I’d have trouble hiding the boner I’d probably get seeing him in Speedos.
He grimaced. “No. I’ll stick with these.”
“The suit will fit over your trunks. Trust me.” I smiled reassuringly.
“Okay.” He headed back toward the dressing room.
I got dressed in my wet suit and closed up everything but the front door. Then I carried his board out of the shop and set it on the sand. About that time he came outside in his black wet suit. It fit his body like a glove, and I tried not to look at him too much in case he noticed. I went inside to grab my board and when I returned, he was staring out to sea, the wind whipping his dark locks around. “It’s been years since I’ve been on a California beach.” His voice was soft.
“Seriously?” I squinted at him. “Why?”
He looked surprised at my question. “Well, I work a lot. And I usually go to Hawaii or Bermuda if I plan on being on a beach.”
I nodded. “Oh, got it. You’ve been on beaches, but not California beaches.” No. Monte Carlo was probably more his style. I pointed to his board. “That’s yours. I’ve waxed it nice and thick so you can stay on better. Have you ever had a surfing lesson?”
“I had a few when I was in college.”
“Okay, so it’s been a while?”
He winced. “Is it that obvious?”
I laughed. “That’s not how I meant it. But neither of us are college age.” I couldn’t tell how old he was. His skin was smooth, and there were very few lines around his eyes. If I’d had to guess by looking at him, I’d have said he was midtwenties, but judging by how sensitive he was about his age, that made me think he was probably closer to his thirties.
“Fair enough.” He rested his hands on his waist.
I handed him a packet of sunscreen, and after he’d applied it to his face, I locked the front door and cleared my throat. “Grab your board and follow me.”
He gave the shop a curious glance. “You’re just closing up and taking off during business hours?”
“That’s how we do it around here.” I laughed. “I’m the only one in the shop, so if you want a lesson, I don’t have much choice.” Not to mention his lesson would net me more than anyone who wandered through browsing the T-shirt section.
