9. Tilly

Chapter nine

Tilly

I hurry away from Tommy, my heart racing with a mix of fear and regret. Agreeing to see him in Costa Rica? What was I thinking? And that kiss on his cheek—such an impulsive mistake. Yet, seeing his searching eyes and that charming smile, how could I resist? His invitation had caught me off guard, and despite every instinct screaming at me to decline, I found myself nodding in agreement.

It felt foolish, considering I'd spent the better part of the last year trying to erase him from my memory. Escaping after that moment was as much about preventing further folly as it was about not reneging on my promise. The idea of visiting him—of days filled with food, the beach, and sun, all shared with Tommy—plays out in my mind like a dream. I can imagine it all too clearly: lazy afternoons, teasing, surfing together, the warmth of the sun on our skin, finding time to explore each other's bodies after a long day.

Shaking my head to dispel these daydreams, I step into the surf shop. The familiar chime of the bell marks my entry, and I force myself to shove all the confusion away.

Rick barely looks up, absorbed in his phone. "Hey Tilly, your nine o'clock is here by the surfboards."

Sam, pregnant and radiant, emerges from the back, her movements slow and careful. Waddling like she has for the past month like some sort of adorable Santa Claus, though her cheeks are already flushed from the exertion of walking from the back to the front. "Tilly, you're late," she scolds gently. The bell rings again, and Tommy steps inside. I busy myself with finding some cold water wax as he moves toward Sam.

Her reaction is immediate, her complexion turning a shade paler as she greets him with a hug. I can tell they're talking about the bandage on his forehead at first before their voices get even lower. Their brief, whispered conversation is lost on me, but it is clear there are a whole lot of questions about me in there.

He's shaking his head and turns to me, gently pushing Sam back a little as if to prove a point.

"Hi Tilly," he says. Sam's curious eyes dart between us, adding to the tension.

Stepping between us, Sam raises one of her hands. "I didn't know he was coming in, Til."

I brush it off with a wave of my hand, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. "No worries. How's it going, Tommy?" My voice betrays none of the turmoil I feel, acting as though our alleyway kiss never happened. As if the last two days haven't happened. It sucks, honestly. I hate it. Lying to Sam, ignoring things between Tommy and me. It's stupid and yet, wasn't it my idea?

"Not bad. Surf's up?" His casual question sends a flush of warmth across my cheeks, his gaze lingering just a tad too long on my chest. Yeah, I remember how it felt to have my boobs mushed up against your chest, too.

"Yeah, heading out now. You wanna watch?" His nod is all the confirmation I need, despite Sam's growing curiosity. Even though I know we planned this out, there is still some trepidation that he would change his mind. That my tiny peck on his cheek would make him rethink the whole friendship thing we have going on.

Approaching the rack of boards, I meet my nine o'clock client who looks as lost as a puppy at a kitty litter conference.

"Hi, John, right?" I ask, putting on my best customer service face.

"Uh, yeah. You're the teacher?" He sounds a bit surprised but that's normal. Women surf instructors are rare, though they shouldn't be.

"I am, and this is my assistant, Tommy. He'll be helping us out. You ready?" I see Tommy flinch at the title of assistant. The corner of my lip twitches with the effort not to laugh at him. He's the type of guy that has a lot of pride and I just took a chunk out of it. Teasing him has been the highlight of my last two days, and I can't help but get in a few jabs when I can. I'm enjoying this tiny power trip.

"Sure. Are there uh, big waves today?" he asks. I nearly roll my eyes. No. There's hardly ever big waves on Mission Beach. He should be more worried about the undertow and riptide that can happen. Telling him that now would be a mistake so I just shake my head.

But Tommy steps forward. "Naw, man. Nothing like that. We'll stay close to shore, so no worries." John swallows down some of his fear but there's a hint of jitters that are still visible in his wide eyes, betraying his apprehension about the mild waves we'd be tackling.

With that settled, I focus on the rack of surfboards available to rent and pick something out for John. We have thirty boards, thanks to a small business loan last year. There's a healthy combination of foam boards for kooks, some cheaper composite boards for the intermediate students and some expensive fiberglass boards. It cost a lot of money to stack the shack like this, but it was well worth it to see the less expensive Torq's, and Thurso's among the Channel Island and Pyzels. Locals can come rent them for a few days to try them out before making a purchase. That adds a new source of income that the Shack didn't have before.

But my board, my beautiful Colby Jack that I bought off Ron when I left Costa Rica is off to the side. The yellow and white daisies were hand-painted by me and she's my first true love with Sam grabbing a very healthy second place position. I grab her—yes, Colby Jack is a girl cause girl surfers are superior and I don't want to hear anything about it—and point out a nine-foot Liquid Shredder for Tommy to grab for John.

But Tommy shakes his head. "Guy has an athletic build. He can handle the seven-six Torq." I roll my eyes because it's pretty obvious I'm paying for the assistant comment. He wants to show off? Go for it, dude. Not my problem if John doesn't catch anything because Tommy's being a diva.

"Fine, but you're pushing him into waves," I say. That makes Tommy laugh, and I see Sam's gaze snap to us again. Is that a smirk? Oh hell, she's picking up on the vibes and we need to go, like now. "Let's get to it!" I'm already jogging toward the door as Tommy grabs the board he picked out with John next to him. John is awkwardly adjusting the crotch of his ill-fitting wetsuit as they walk. Athletic build my ass. The guy has a beer belly that rivals any redneck at a NASCAR race. It doesn't faze me though. Some of the best long boarders I've seen at Mission Beach have big bellies and even bigger personalities.

Holding the door open, the two men pass through and we set off, leaving the complexities of my personal life at the shack as we dive into the simpler challenges of the surf.

***

I'm dripping wet, shivering slightly under the grey sky as we walk toward the surf shop. Acting the gentleman, Tommy carries both boards back to the surf shop for me. After wrapping up the lesson, I couldn't resist the pull of the ocean and spent another twenty minutes out there, carving through the small waves. Tommy had cheered from the shore, his enthusiasm warming me despite the frigid water. It was a perfect flip to watching him at the tournament yesterday and I have to admit, it feels good to have my own personal cheerleader.

"I love that you push students into the whitewater. Really boosts a grown man's confidence," he teases as we jog across the street.

"I don't care about their pride. I care about tips."

"Here's a tip, flirt a little. Guys eat that stuff up," he says.

"Yeah, you'd know. What about that nurse yesterday?" I ask.

He recoils a little. "The one that had yellow poo on her butt?"

I'm laughing so hard, I snort but nod through it. "She thought you wanted to show her a good time." I open the door to the Surf Shack and he walks inside. Straight to the back we both go where he leans the dirty boards against the wall.

"Ugh, no thanks. She had no sense of humor." He bumps my shoulder. "Not like you."

"Oh yes. I'm just full of hilarious jokes," I say with a roll of my eyes.

"Sarcasm is funny," he argues then leans a little closer. "And sexy too." Oh my. Tommy calling me sexy? Where's a fan when I need one? I let my back rest against the wall so he can crowd my space a little easier. And boy, does he take the bait. One arm goes above me, as he gets even closer. We're staring at each other now and I bite my lip. It's a move I know drives men wild and he sucks a breath through his teeth like I've punched the air out of him. Whoa, he might find sarcasm hot, but damn if I'm not feeling warmth pooling between my legs at the way he's looking at me now.

Before I can say anything back, he breaks away from me. I'm disappointed until I figure out why. Sam is waddling my way and I watch his retreating form as he heads to the back to spray the boards down with the hose. I glance at him over my shoulder and as soon as our eyes connect, he shoots me a wink. Be still my aching heart, that's hot.

"That guy was thrilled. Sold a fun board. But, Tilly, I'm blown away," Sam says, oblivious to my distracted thoughts.

She hands me a towel and I use it to wring the seawater from my hair. "What do you mean?"

Sam leans in closer. "You! After avoiding even mentioning his name for a year, suddenly you two are friends again?" Her eyes dart back to where Tommy is spraying our gear down.

"I don't hold grudges," I reply, though I can feel irritation beginning to bubble up. Admitting to any deeper connection feels like it would tarnish the reality of what's happening between us.

"That's not true. You wouldn't speak to me for days over that bongo incident," Sam reminds me, trailing behind as I head to change.

The memory of the broken bongo, a cherished gift from my grandfather, flashes through my mind. Yes, Sam replaced it, but it wasn't the same. The original is still hidden away in my closet. But memories can't simply be replaced. I still believe my reaction was warranted, but it does no good to relive old arguments.

With the towel still in my hair, I walk back to the changing room. But Sam follows, standing right outside as I shut the door. "Seriously Til, what's going on?"

Realizing that she won't let this go, I take a breath. "Some, uh, stuff happened." She says nothing which is worse than her asking for more details. See if she asked, I could refuse. But the silence kills me and she knows it. So I shake my head but start to tell her about the break-in, trying to downplay how upset it made me. Even with my carefully chosen words, Sam's concern is immediate, bursting through the door as I stand there, unfazed by my nakedness. Pressing my lips together, I hold the towel over my chest as she shuts herself in the tiny room with me.

"Til! What the hell? Did you call the police?" she asks.

I shake my head. "No, got a little distracted."

"By Tommy?" There's a satisfied grin on her lips that only manages to annoy me more.

"Erm, no. My... my dad died," I finally confess, the weight of those words feeling surreal even as they leave my mouth.

Sam knows some of the complexities of my family, just as I've come to learn of hers, especially after her arrest and the trial over the murder of her ex-husband. As much as I love and trust her, explaining my family dynamic would be a mistake. She wouldn't turn us in any more than I would for her, but it's more about how she would look at me.

Once people know, everything changes.

She looks to be on the verge of tears, so I wave her off. "Look, it's not that big a deal. But I do have to go to Tahoe for the week. For the memorial and to deal with… things."

Sam immediately tenses up. "Dangerous things?" she asks.

I can only shrug in response. "Probably not. My sister came by—"

"Miranda was here?" Sam knows I have a twin, though the two have never even spoken.

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."

That only fuels my annoyance. He's acting as if this is all some kind of game. "Jealous Tilly doesn't like Tommy. In fact, she's ready to smack that smug expression off his face."

He leans in closer, his breath warming my lips as his eyes dart between mine. "So do it." His voice drops, sending waves of heat through me.

I try to hold onto my irritation, really, I do. But with him so close, I can see the quickening pulse at his neck and the anticipation in his eyes. Our gazes lock and I instinctively arch toward him, our lips barely grazing.

But then, he pulls back just slightly, his grin widening, leaving a space between us. I'm nearly ready to combust at his teasing. Just fucking kiss me, damn it! As if reading my mind, he's back, his lips teasing mine without fully committing to the kiss. It feels like a playful tug of war, and he is clearly enjoying the game.

A part of me is infuriated by his teasing, yet, paradoxically, I find myself even more drawn to him than before. The mixed emotions make me giggle, a sound that delights him even further. "You like that, Tilly?"

Yes. Yes, I do. The closeness, our bodies pressed together as if we were melding into one entity, is intoxicating. "Mhm. I'd like it more if you actually let me kiss you," I find myself admitting.

"Yeah?" His eyes flutter shut as he brushes his nose against my cheek, prompting me to close my own eyes and breathe him in. Why in the hell does he smell so damn good? There must be some sort of charming man body spray that he buys in bulk. And I'm here for it.

What are we even doing?

Suddenly, Sam's voice cuts through the thick atmosphere of the shop. "Holy shit!" It jolts me back to reality. I shove away from Tommy, turning to see Sam looking around, trying to find something to focus on other than the two of us. Her cheeks are burning with embarrassment. "Sorry, I was looking for…" Her voice fades as her gaze flits across the room, then she quickly turns and retreats down the hall. "I'll just let you guys…uh, get to it, I guess," she says halfway down the hall.

Tommy wastes no time trying to pull me back into him, eager to recapture the moment. "Cat's outta the bag now, babe." But I put up my hand, stopping him. Seeing the discomfort on Sam's face reminded me that there will be explanations owed. Until Tommy clarifies things, I won't let myself get any deeper with him than I already am.

Shaking my head, I walk away, grabbing my purse as I head for the door.

Before stepping out, I turn back, my gaze sharp. "Flirt with whoever you want, Tommy. I'm going to Tahoe." His calls follow me as I leave, but I don't pause. The situation is so beyond confusing. Was this all just a game to him, similar to how he flirted with those women?

No, that couldn't be right. He said he missed me. And I know he wanted that kiss as much as I did.

Stepping outside, I let out a heavy sigh. Why am I letting him stir up so much turmoil inside me? It's ridiculous. I'm headed to Tahoe, and he is returning to Costa Rica. Whatever spark has ignited between us, it is doomed to flicker out eventually anyway. The quicker I forget about him, the easier my life will be.