9. Sam

Once we are inside the surf shack, I give Tilly a quick wave. Her eyes practically pop out of her head as she takes in the sight of me still with Greg. Thankfully, Tilly is smart enough not to ask any questions while Greg is still around. I know she's dying for information.

His words about starting over after a bad relationship echo my own reasons for being in Costa Rica. My past, especially the chapter involving my ex-husband Kevin, remains a closed book. No one knows the whole story. Not even Tilly. But I can't stop the similarities from giving me hope. Even though I know it's a terrible idea, I want more time with Greg. A lot more.

Shit. I really do need to talk to Tilly. She has this way of setting me straight when I get ahead of myself. Anytime I need a reality check, she's there, ready with a metaphorical bucket of ice water. She's basically the best friend version of a cold shower. Like when I wanted to buy a new surfboard that would drain my rainy-day fund. Yeah, she literally stole my shoebox full of cash until I was over it. And she was right. I have Ruby available to use, I don't need $1000 surfboard.

What will she say about Greg? Nothing good, and that alone should warn me off.

I turn to face him, blocking Tilly's full view of Greg with my body. Before I speak, I cast a quick look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Tilly's pretending to scroll through her phone like she's deep in stock market analytics making her next million. But really, she's practically drooling in her wait for the incoming tea.

There is a soft touch on my hand, and I focus forward. Greg has my hand in his palm, tracing small circles with his thumb on the back of my hand.

"Sam, I really would love to take you out."

"Shh," I say, my face growing two shades darker red as I gesture behind me with my head. "She's listening."

His crooked grin broadens. "Okay, but dinner? Tonight?" he whispers.

"I might be busy," I say, trying to keep my face stoic.

He arches an eyebrow, not believing me for a second. "Oh? Then maybe I should book up all your surf lessons for the next six months. You think you'll be free for dinner by then?"

I shake my head. "I'll have to review our reservations. We might not have space."

His hands take me by the waist and pull me closer. "Ah, don't be like that. Let me take you out. Tonight." He presents me with one of his smiles, wide and full of joy. There's a hint of hope on his face as well. If he wasn't holding onto me with both of his, I'm almost certain he'd be crossing his fingers. It's so endearing that my stomach swims with butterflies. Being pressed against him isn't helping either. God, he's solid. So strong and warm around me. Oh how I want to lean into it, and beg for more. He must sense that I'm close to agreeing, because he tightens his hold. We're so close that I put my hands on his chest. Under my fingertips, his heart hammers a fast pace. He's just as nervous as I am. With that in mind, I finally relent with a shy nod.

"I'll pick you up at seven?" His question sounds like another promise, one I'm eager to accept.

Swallowing down my apprehension, I nod again. It's all I can do right now. I honestly don't trust my mouth to say anything other than ‘Kiss me!'

"Okay then, see you tonight, Sam."

He backs away from me a few steps, his grin so infectious, I'm surprised the CDC hasn't shown up. For a moment, I panic at the thought of him leaving after I got so tongue tied. I raise my right hand and wave it in the air like I'm trying to put out a fire. "Bye, Greg!" I shout, even though he's only a few feet away. He winces and I'm suddenly sure that people in the next two towns overheard my goodbye.

"Bye, Sam." His voice is much calmer than mine and dare I say, fucking sexy. Do I feel like I'm floating? Absolutely. He's not just a man, he's my personal helium supplier. And boy am I ready to suck.

My eyes don"t stop watching as he leaves. They stayed clued to him even as he jogs back across the street. Standing there, I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling the cool breeze through the shop as if his body had been the only thing keeping it at bay. Outside, it's 90 degrees with humidity thick enough to swim through. But here I am, suddenly chilly as if I'd wandered into a mythical Costa Rican snowstorm. Still, I watch him go with a moon face grin plastered on my face.

As I stand frozen at the door, I hear Tilly's hurried footsteps behind me. When I turn around, she's gaping at me, phone in hand. It's obvious she's been spying this entire time, and not very subtly.

"Who's on the phone?" I ask, stepping inside.

She holds the phone out behind her. "Tommy, he won first in Florida."

Taking the device, I go back to the bar. "Hey, Tommy. How's Florida?"

"Boring. Palm trees, sunshine, blah, blah, blah. Now, who's this guy that has you skipping work?" he asks. I glare in Tilly's direction but knew it would be like this. There aren't many secrets between the three of us.

"Greg S., ex-cop from Cali. Here to ‘restart.'" I don't want to admit that we're going out in a few hours, but they'll find out eventually, anyway. "I'm having dinner with him tonight," I admit.

Tilly's head snaps around and she practically skips to the bar where I'm seated. "Again? Have you ever seen a guy three times since moving here?" She knows exactly how out of character this is for me, but highlighting it isn't exactly calming my nerves.

"He's nice," I say both into the phone and to Tilly.

Tommy scoffs on the phone. "Nice is flowers and chocolates. I think Greg is something else."

"Fucking hot," Tilly offers.

"Tilly!" I squeal. But she's got both hands up and is shaking her head.

"Just go to dinner, Sam. Lord knows you deserve a little fun."

"That is so not helpful," I say, but I'm chuckling as I do.

"She's right, Sam. Have fun tonight, you do deserve it," Tommy adds. I want to tell him he only agrees because Tilly said it first, but I resist the temptation. Poking the bear that is the entirely weird sexual tension between my two best friends isn't a good idea, even though they're both seriously getting on my nerves.

"Fine. Okay. Get back soon, Tommy. I'm going to shower." I don't wait for his goodbye and set the phone on the counter. Tilly is back to eating her chips as if she doesn't have a care in the world. We meet each other's eyes, and she shrugs. I can practically hear her silent admonishment.

‘You're sure about this?' her eyes say.

I shrug and furrow my brow as if to say, ‘Nope, but what can you do?' Our telepathic conversation ends when Tilly bursts into laughter. I shake my head and turn away. "Come up in an hour and help me cover my tattoo," I yell behind me. The small four-leaf clover was something young me thought was a good idea. I like to keep it covered, using an expensive waterproof concealer. Tilly's the only person I trust with it. Since it's on the back of my neck, it's difficult to tell if I've done a good enough job.

"Do it yourself, hussy. I'm jealous tonight." Tilly's still laughing, but I know she's serious. Sometimes, I truly wonder why we're such good friends.

But still, she's always there to push me into having fun. She's a little more adventurous than me and without her encouragement, I'd probably never leave home or the Surf Shack.