3. Britta

Chapter three

Britta

T he first morning of my extended vacation in LA, I wake to a hazy dawn instead of the buzzing of an alarm. It's not a terrible start to the day, even if I have to force myself to stay in bed and enjoy the quiet. I think that's what you're supposed to do on a vacation—enjoy relaxing. This is all new to me.

I make it five minutes before I'm so bored watching the ceiling fan turn in slow circles that I have to get up. Old habits die hard. I've spent too many years getting up before dawn, to make coffee and ebelskiver, to sleep in.

The first thing I do is text Dad to check on him, then my brother, Adam, to check on Britta's. I get a long response from Dad about how he's doing great—I don't believe it—and that he misses me. Adam's reply is short.

demo starts today.

Taking a deep breath, I repeat the mantra I've said no less than a thousand times since driving out of Paradise. Everything will be fine without you.

I wait a few seconds to see if I believe myself this time.

I don't, but I'm getting closer…maybe.

Then I pad into the hallway, stopping long enough outside a second bedroom door to confirm Stella—my cousin, bestie, and assigned vacation-enforcer—is still asleep. When Georgia talked me into taking over the last six weeks of her and Cassie's lease while Britta's undergoes some much-need renovations, she insisted Stella come with me for part of the time.

She'll need her back in Paradise once At Home with Georgia Rose starts filming again; Stella keeps all of Georgia's social media accounts updated with fresh content during the show's season. Until the season starts in a couple weeks, though, Stella's unofficial assignment is to make sure I'm okay.

My dad and brothers weren't crazy about the idea of me coming here at all, let alone by myself. I wasn't privy to the backdoor bargaining, but my guess is that Georgia offered to let Stella come with me to ease their worries before proposing her LA idea to me.

At first, coming to LA appealed to me, but the idea of Stella coming too didn't—as much as I love her. I thought I wanted time to myself. But if I'm already going stir-crazy in the first five minutes of my suddenly too-quiet vacation, my family probably wasn't wrong about sending her to keep things lively. I've got maybe an hour before she wakes up and puts my scheduled, unscheduled time into motion. Until then, I'm going to enjoy sitting on the small patio watching the morning move from gray to gold with the sound of lapping waves in the distance.

I just wish I had a good cup of coffee to go with it, and if Stella would wake up, I could make one. I didn't pack a lot, but I made sure to bring my espresso machine and some of my favorite gourmet roasts. Taking a break from work doesn't mean I'm taking a break from coffee. But setting up my essential coffee maker will take a minute and, more than likely, wake Stella. No one needs to poke that Bear. I'll let her come out of hibernation on her own.

An hour later, when someone knocks at the front door, I haven't changed out of my pajama pants and T-shirt—no bra—and it's not even eight am. Stella is still in bed. I still need coffee, and I really don't want to open the door to a stranger when I'm not dressed. Or even when I am. I've met one person in LA—barely—and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that all Dad's warnings about "big cities," aren't running through my head as I open the Ring app he insisted I set up.

I look at the live feed of the doorbell camera. Two men are at the door, both in board shorts, one in a tank, the other shirtless. The taller one swipes at the air around him, looking annoyed while the one with shaggy hair—Mom would have called him unkempt—is barefoot. I don't recognize the tall guy, but the unkempt one is the single person I know here. And his hair actually looks shorter than it did the last time I saw him, which would make Dad happy. He's suspicious of any man with hair past his ears—my brother, Adam, being the one exception to that rule.

Aside from the shorter hair, Dex looks the way I remember from the beginning of June, when he showed up in Paradise, perpetually shirtless and smiling. Which makes me happy.

I've missed admiring his well-formed pecs, the curve of his biceps, and the way his waist tapers into his low-cut board shorts. He's not big and muscular like my hockey-playing brothers, and I like that. There's a lean, natural athleticism to his shape that I could admire all day. In fact, I took the no shoes, no shirt, no service sign out of the window at Britta's after the first time Dex came in, just so I could admire his bare chest for at least part of the day.

The thing I'm most interested in at the moment, though, is the takeout coffee cups he's holding.

I do a nip check, then grab a hoodie to throw on, even though it's already over seventy degrees in this apartment. I'm surprised how many women in LA don't wear bras. Or much of anything, really. No judgement on them, because bras are the worst, but I'm not there yet seeing as how I've been a California girl for exactly fourteen hours.

And Dad might die of a heart attack if I ever do get to the point where I stop wearing a bra and let my bum hang out of my shorty short shorts. My brothers would have opinions about that too.

I don't care what they think about LA or the people in it. I feel lighter being somewhere besides Paradise than I have in months—years, really.

Some of that may have to do with the man on the other side of my door who rings the bell a second time. Georgia gave me Dex's number, but I haven't reached out. Haven't known exactly what to say, but I guess that's irrelevant now.

I throw open the door. "Hi, Dex. You're up early."

I say this as though we're old friends, and I was expecting him. Is that the wrong approach? I'm not sure what the right approach is.

Dex steps inside, warming me with his amber-flecked eyes ringed with gold. "Ah, I'm always up early." The letters in early blend, the hard r disappearing almost entirely, so the word roll over me as gentle as a breeze before he hands me a coffee. "Thought you might need this. Welcome to South Bay."

My smile disappears when I see the brand on the coffee cup. Honestly, I'm as surprised to see Dex as I am to see the logo of the company known for speed, not quality.

I take the coffee from him, and he leans close. Before I know it, he's kissed my cheek, sending a rush of heat across my entire face and reminding me of our last kiss.

Dex's friend follows him inside and tsks. "You've embarrassed her."

He has the same accent as Dex and waves his hand toward my red face, which only makes me blush more.

"Britta and I are old friends," Dex says, then hands me the other coffee. "This one's for Stella. She came too, yeah? Georgia messaged me, saying I should keep an eye on the two of you."

"Did she? She told me you'd probably be surfing somewhere." I sip my coffee to be polite, feeling more comfortable now that he's referred to me as a friend .

As I sip, his eyes sparkle with laughter, and I think he may be teasing me with this coffee.

"Treating me to something exotic today." I tip the cup to him and take another sip.

He cracks a smile, and he turns to his friend. "Told you she'd hate it."

"You're the whinger who told me to grab something else if Annie's was too busy," the friend says. "What else is there besides Starbucks? You set me up."

"Let me guess." I look in Dex's direction and raise an eyebrow. "You figured bad coffee was better than no coffee? At least for an American?"

The friend barks a laugh and steps around Dex. "You're right, mate, she's funny. I'm Archie." He lifts his chin in greeting. "Nice to meet you."

Something flickers in Dex's eyes that takes me back to summer and the heat that simmered between us. "I'll bring the good stuff later. We're in a bit of a rush this morning if I'm going to catch any waves today."

"That's right. You've got a job ." If my hands weren't full, I'd make air quotes around job , but Dex knows what I mean.

"Best job in the world." His smile fills the room, briefly pushing away the sadness I still wake up to every morning since Mom died.

The sadness that brought me here because, after four months, I still can't seem to move on. It doesn't escape me I've felt better in these last few minutes than I have in all these months—which means Georgia might have been right about California sunshine being what I needed. Dex is his own sort of California sunshine.

I take another sip of my coffee, and for a few seconds, Dex and I grin at each other. Then I turn to Archie. "Are you a surfer, too? Or do you have to wear a shirt to work?"

Archie shoots Dex a look, and I worry I've offended him, but Dex jumps in. "He used to surf, but now he's my manager and my coach. I even pay him to do it."

Archie's face holds a question that I can't figure out before it passes, and his grin comes back quickly. "Doesn't pay me enough, but I let it slide, because I'm a good guy, and he wouldn't survive without me."

"That's mostly true," Dex suddenly grows serious. "I wouldn't be the surfer I am without Archie."

"Well, I'd love to watch you both sometime if you ever surf in California. Georgia says you're always traveling somewhere else to surf, so maybe you're bored with California waves?" I let my gaze linger on Dex, wondering for the first time why he spends most of his time in California instead of Australia if he's always leaving, while also hoping he's going to be around for a while. Six weeks, ideally.

Dex tips his head and gives me a curious look. "California has some good waves," he says in a voice dry enough to make me think he's understating the fact.

"Some of the best in the world." Archie adds with a gentle scoff. "This dingbat," he wags his head toward Dex. "Is about to surf one of them."

"This morning? Just one wave? Seems like you go to a lot of work to only surf one wave." My eyes dart to Archie back to Dex.

Archie's green eyes cloud with confusion. "He'll surf more than one wave. Probably a few sets."

Dex barks a laugh. "We mean the type , not the number, when we say wave. Every surf spot has a unique type of wave based on the wind and seafloor, but I surf as many good waves as I can catch no matter the location or what type of wave I'm on." Dex answers, his lips pulling into a smile. "I forget you don't speak surf."

I raise my eyebrows. The air snaps between us, throwing off more heat than the griddle back at Britta's. "I guess you'll have to show me what you mean."

"You can come watch right now. We're headed to a beach a few minutes south." Dex's eyes don't leave mine, and I almost say yes.

But I shake my head instead. "Stella's got plans for us today…if she ever gets up." As much as I'd like to have a beach day with Dex, Stella already told me she's found somewhere we have to go today. "Tomorrow, maybe?"

Dex shakes his head slowly. "I've got a competition that starts tomorrow."

"A competition? I thought surfers were too laid back to compete."

Dex laughs. "Professional surfers are a competitive bunch."

His voice has the dry-as-burned-toast tone I've learned he uses when he's understating something. But when his eyes travel over me, sizing me up, I get the sense I've underestimated what being a professional surfer means.

"It's no biggie," Dex says in that same tone. "But if you wanna watch, you can."

"That's not a good idea," Archie says, stepping closer to Dex, telegraphing a warning to me that's loud and clear. He doesn't want me there.

To be honest, I was more interested in flirting with Dex than actually watching him surf. I'm not really the rah-rah-sit-on-the-beach-and-cheer-for-a-guy kind of girl. Plus, hockey is my sport, not surfing. Not much surfing in Idaho, unless wakeboarding counts.

But Archie not wanting me at the competition, has me curious. Is it a private VIP event that will be hard to get me into? Maybe Dex really does make money surfing, and it's not just a hobby. Maybe I've just been invited to an event that only Hollywood stars who care about surfing can get into. Like…Keanu Reeves—I think he was in a surfing movie back in the day. He's old, but still hot.

I let my eyes roll over Dex. "I think I'd enjoy watching you at work. Seems only fair after you spent so much time heckling me about my coffee."

Dex's whole face cracks into a wide grin, but at a look from Archie, he smooths it away. "Get Stella and come with us to the beach today. That'd be less trouble than going to the competition, and you'll be more entertained watching me surf for fun. We can hang out." Dex says casually, but there's a dare in the way he traces his tongue along his bottom lip. Like he's throwing me a crumb to see if I'll go for the whole sandwich.

I do love a good sandwich.

"Watching you surf for fun sounds a little like you watching me make instant coffee at home." I match Dex's casual tone, but the return of his grin sets off a chain reaction that starts with blips in my pulse and ends with a tingle skipping along each vertebra of my spine. "I think I'd rather watch you at your competition."

Dex meets my gaze. "It's a fair drive to the competition. All the way in San Clemente, and it starts early. The traffic and parking will be chock-a-block and it's a ridiculous hike to the beach."

If he's trying to talk me out of going, his rich, coffee-brown eyes aren't doing him any favors by inviting me in for a sip.

"I'm on vacation." I shrug. "I've got all the time in the world. I want to see as much of LA as possible, including San Clemente."

Archie laughs, and Dex's smile grows. "San Clemente is halfway to San Diego, in Orange County. Hours away, but not that different from South Bay. All multi-million-dollar beach shacks and girls in bikinis." His gaze drifts all the way to my toes and back. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in…"

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for Dex to finish his sentence.

"…The audience." He pulls in his lips, and I narrow my eyes, sure that's not what he was going to say.

"Sounds lovely." I sip my coffee, keeping my gaze on Dex. "What day and time?"

Archie crosses his arms like he's Dex's bodyguard. "You'll be a distraction."

"A distraction from what?" I look around like the answer might appear. "Hanging out at the beach, catching a few waves?"

Dex steps in front of Archie, who is visibly annoyed now. "Waiting period starts tomorrow. We're headed down later this arvo, so we're ready when the wave is."

I blink. "Sooo, you'll surf tomorrow?"

Archie's shoulders sag, and Dex laughs. "If the wave is good. But the swell reports say it'll likely be another day or two. Maybe even a week. The event is set for any day between September tenth and eighteenth."

"You just wait around to surf? There's no schedule?" Which, I guess, tracks for a surf competition if every stereotype of surfers being flakey and laid back is true. But I keep that opinion to myself.

Dex runs his tongue over the grin playing at his bottom lip, firing up memories of him kissing me in my shop that day. Man, that had been a nice kiss.

"The only place to schedule good waves is Kelly Slater's Surf Ranch," Dex says. "Mother Nature doesn't care about surfers or a schedule, so we have to wait on her. First thing surfers learn is to let go of any ideas about humans having control over anything."

I shift my gaze to Archie, who lifts a shoulder. "You want to go; you wait for the wave, same as the rest of us."

I think I understand the waiting thing, but now I'm caught on this surf ranch thing. I suspect it's some kind of Australian humor. "So, someone has a ranch, like, in the ocean? Where the waves are always good?"

Archie rubs his brow. "Not that kind of ranch."

At the same time, Dex says. "You've never heard of Kelly Slater?"

I shake my head, forcing myself to keep my gaze on his eyes—not his lips—but those are equally distracting.

Archie and Dex look at each other, then back to me, both their faces indignant. Archie is the first to speak. "He's literally the best surfer who's ever lived. He's in his fifties, still competing and still winning. "

They stare at me as if I should be impressed, and I look back and forth between them, wondering why.

"And that's unusual?" I ask.

An awkward silence follows, so I lean against the sofa behind me and sip my coffee. It's lukewarm and not good, but I need to do something. Judging by their disappointed looks and sagging shoulders, I've offended them. The least I can do is pretend to enjoy my watered-down coffee.

"It is exceptional. " Archie rakes his hand through his red, wavy hair. "You seem like a nice girl, Britta, but you've got no business at the biggest surfing event of the year if you don't even know who Kelly Slater is."

I laugh, assuming he's teasing, but his face only grows more serious.

"Really? I can't go? What do you think is going to happen? My lack of knowledge about surfing will spread like a nasty virus on a cruise ship?" I try to keep my voice light, but the more Archie doesn't want me to go, the more I want to.

Dex's mouth twitches while Archie's face flushes with anger.

"This competition is a big deal, no matter what Dex says. He needs to stay focused if he's going to win." Archie's words are measured and even, despite the irritation that underscores each one.

Dex turns to Archie. "The crowd will be too big for me to even see her."

They stare at each other, Dex lifting his chin to meet Archie's downward gaze. Finally, Archie lets out a loud, annoyed sigh. "Fine."

Just as I'm about to make a snarky comment about two men deciding what I can and cannot do, I hear Stella's bedroom door open. I take a few steps backwards to peer down the hall. She takes one step out of her room, wearing a T-shirt that barely covers her thighs, her black hair tumbling from a loose bun on top of her head.

"Do you have the TV on? Or are our neighbors just really loud?" she asks in a tired voice, rubbing her eyes.

I scramble around the couch and spread my arms and legs wide in the hallway entrance to block Dex and Archie's view to the opposite end. Stella will never forgive me if they see her with bedhead.

"We have company, Stella!" I call to her before glancing back at our guests.

Simultaneously, our "company" both crane their necks to see down the hallway.

She stops in her tracks, and her mouth drops open. "It's barely nine o'clock. On a Saturday."

"Eight o'clock California time," Dex yells to Stella as though they've met more than once. "But we brought coffee."

At the sound of his voice, Stella jumps back into her room.

"It's Starbucks," I warn as I jog down the hallway to hand her the cup.

"Thank you?" Stella, still in an early-morning haze, calls around my shoulder to Dex even though he's out of sight in the kitchen. Then she gives me a look and mutters, "Guess I'll get dressed."

When I come back to the open kitchen and sitting room area, Dex and Archie are already at the door.

"We'll head out," Dex says. "But bring Stella, too, if you can make it. I'm not allowed on my phone this close to an event." He sends Archie an accusing look, making it clear who's made the no-phone rule. "So, I'll give Archie your number, and he'll give you all the info about times and how to get there."

"You have my number?"

Dex stops his exit long enough for a confident grin to tug at his lip. "Course I do."

"Good." I smile back, ignoring Archie shaking his head—again—and my own doubts about what I've gotten myself into. "So, do I wear a swimsuit? Or what? Are you the only one getting in the water? Or can we swim?"

Dex's expression is both puzzled and amused. "Whatever you wear to the beach. There's no formal dress code."

"Sunscreen and a bikini." Archie gives Dex a pointed look when he says bikini . Like he's reminding him that's the only reason Dex wants me there. Dex only smiles.

Archie turns back to me, and in a resigned voice, adds, "And a jumper. I'll bring towels and chairs for you. And an Esky with drinks and snacks."

"Excellent. Thanks." I pass on asking what a jumper and an esky are. I've already made it painfully obvious how little I know about surfing, the beach, and California in general. An esky holds drinks and snacks. That's all I need to know.

"And thanks for stopping by and bringing the coffee," I add, as I follow them to the front door.

"Yeah. See ya soon," Dex says with a slow smile that sends a charge of electricity through me.

"Yeah." I return his relaxed goodbye with an even more casual one before shutting the door and letting out my own smile.

I've been in LA less than twenty-four hours, and already Dex and I are back to the easy banter that came so quickly the first time we met. I have a feeling my time here will be fun whenever he's around. Just like when he was in Paradise, there's no risk of attachment. I'm only here six weeks, at the most.

In the meantime, Dex will take my mind off worrying about what's happening at home. No expectations. No commitments. Just easy.

And easy is exactly what I need right now.