I’d found both in Liz.
She glanced up at the sky. “You really going to go surf in the rain?”
“Not raining yet,” I said.
“Yet.”
February was arguably the worst month of the year in San Diego for weather. It could get downright cold and wet, making the city feel very un-Southern California-like. Watching the thick gray blanket unroll above us on the first day of the month, I thought we might be in for the local version of a monsoon.
I grabbed my board and started keying in the tri-fins. “I can get in a little time before the stinking rain blows it all up.”
“Rain is fine,” she said, smiling.
“Rain sucks,” I said.
She shook her head, but the smile remained.
Things were easy between us. No tension, nothing riding below the surface, no distrust. We’d seen each other at our worst and decided that wasn’t so bad. Our lives were better with the other in it. I was happier than I’d ever been, and it was our relationship that was driving that.
“Oh, look,” Liz said. “She’s baaack.”
I got the last fin in place and looked down the boardwalk. The woman had returned, this time with a longboard tucked under her arm. She had replaced her T-shirt with a rash guard. She glanced our way and let her eyes sweep past us, like she was just taking a look up the beach. She walked toward the edge of the water.
“Maybe she wants lessons,” Liz suggested, her tone somewhere between amused and annoyed.
I stood. “My day is made.”
“How’s that?”
“Jealousy. It always makes my day.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “I’m not jealous.”
“Said the really jealous woman.”
She tried to hold in a laugh but failed. “Whatever. I’m leaving.”
I leaned over and kissed her. I started to pull away, but she caught my arm and held me there for a moment longer before letting me go.
“Tell her I have a gun and I’m more than happy to use it,” she said.
I watched Liz head around the side of the house before turning back to the water. The woman was strapping the leash onto her ankle, surveying the ocean in front of her. Maybe we had overestimated her interest in me, our suspicious natures getting the better of us.
Time to go find out.
TWO
I staked out a spot near the jetty, where the nice right break that sometimes appeared had failed to materialize. The imposing clouds to the west had yet to kick up the larger than normal swells that winter storms brought.
The woman was wearing a bright yellow rash guard and a pair of black bikini bottoms. She had her blond hair pulled back. The board was a little oversized for her, but she handled it okay, paddling into a couple of the small ripples she mistook for waves.
She pretended like she was watching the horizon, waiting for the water to rise up in more respectable swells, but I caught her looking in my direction twice before she finally turned parallel to the shore and paddled over.
“Not so good, huh?” she asked, as she glided up next to me. “I was hoping there’d be a little more going on out here.”
“Not in the middle of the day,” I said. “Usually just like this.”
“Really?” She wrinkled her nose. Her tone was overly friendly. “I was told South Mission was a pretty good spot.”
“It can be. Just gotta catch it at the right time.”
She nodded like that made sense to her.
“How long are we gonna make the stupid small talk?” I asked.
Her gray eyes shifted away from me, and she pushed a few wet strands of hair off her forehead. “What?”
“You practically camped out on my patio for the last hour,” I said. “I saw you walking the beach before you even got in the water.” I nodded at her board. “You rented that at Hamel’s. And you just told me you’ve never been out here before.”
Thin lines formed above her eyes as she thought about objecting. Then she shrugged. “Got me.” She held out a hand. “I’m Darcy Gill.”
I didn’t shake her hand. “What do you want, Darcy Gill?”
“Nice to meet you, too, Noah Braddock.” Her eyes flickered, and the polite friendliness she had brought over with her disappeared as she retracted her hand. “Everyone on the beach said you’d be pissed off if I bothered you
