On the Sideline (BSU Football #3) - J.B. Salsbury Page 0,11
right?”
“Yes, are you looking for lessons?” She does a quick up down with her eyes, probably sizing me up to gauge my surfing success rate. Her frown tells me she doesn’t think I’d fare well.
“No, not lessons. Just the boards.”
“Can I try these on?” A woman behind me snags the girls attention.
“Of course.” She focuses back on me. “I’ll send out our manager to help you with the rentals.”
“Great.” As soon as she’s gone I wipe the fake smile off my face and look at the variety of stickers in the glass case in front of me. Waves, sunsets, pineapples, a pug wearing sunglasses…I lean down and squint at a sticker of a snake sunbathing in a g-string and the sticker reads Pythong. I chuckle. “That’s a good one,” I say to myself before realizing the presence of someone standing in front of me at the glass counter.
I look up, my smile falls, and my face ignites.
“Bex? What are you doing here?” Loren’s eyes dart around the space, a small, uneasy smile tilting his lips all under the shadow of a Ripcurl ball cap. “Is Riley with you?”
The sound of my cousin’s name is like a cattle prod zapping me back to myself and to my reason for being here. “You work here?”
He squints playfully, the corner of his mouth ticking up. “You didn’t know I worked here?”
“No! God no, I wouldn’t have come—”
He lifts his brows.
“—I didn’t know you worked here. I’ve never even been in here.” I snort-laugh. “There is nothing here I want. Trust me.”
He crosses his arms over his massive chest—God, he’s tan and huge—while I continue to babble incoherently.
“This is not the kind of place I shop, so…nope.” I feel my worst and most embarrassing nervous tick bubble up from my throat and blurt in a British accent. “Nothing here for me, gov’na’!” I slam my lips closed and sweat dampens my armpits.
“You’re adorable,” he says with humor in his voice.
Not disgusting. Not a compliment either. Babies are adorable, puppies too. And so are chubby girls.
“Actually,” I clear my throat, my thoughts sobering and calming. I’m getting all squirmy around the guy who is in love with my cousin! Dumb. Snap out of it, Bex. He’s a jock! And just another pretty face…and body. And smile—whatever! Stop it. “I am here to see if I can rent ten surfboards from you for the purpose of décor for the Eta Pi Valentine’s Day formal.”
His light eyes dance in the few seconds of silence before he says, “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Ha. Yeah. So…?”
He reaches for a binder and I pretend not to notice the way his bicep contracts and swells. “Valentine’s Day.” He flips through the pages of hand scribbled dates and names and I'm disappointed his hat blocks his face. “Huh…”
“If it’s not possible it’s fine—”
“It’s not that. I manage this store in the off season.” He looks around me as if searching someone out. “Brit!” He lifts his chin at whoever Brit is.
“Yeah?” The gorgeous girl with the braids comes around the counter and presses in close to Loren to look at the book.
Maybe she’s near-sighted.
Loren and her go back and forth in surf shop lingo I don’t understand, or maybe I’m too focused on the parts of their touching bodies to pay attention.
“Have you talked to Riley lately?” Cheap shot, I know, but seriously, I felt like he needed the reminder that he’s kind of sort of seeing my cousin while this little model-looking woman is pressed against him.
“We texted this morning, but other than that…” He shakes his head. “Thanks,” he says to Brit and then turns away from her to snag a pen.
“I can vouch for the fact that the selfie she sent was absolutely spontaneous. She wakes up like that.”
He grins. “I never doubted it.” He’s back to the paperwork “Okay, we can do ten that weekend, but we’ll have to charge for two day rental if you’re going to have them longer than twenty-four hours.”
“That’s fine.” I’m grateful when Brit gets pulled away to help another customer.
“I’ll need an ID and form of payment to hold them.”
I pull out my driver’s license and credit card, handing them to him. He stares down at them, blinks a few times, then snaps them flat and bends forward to record whatever information he needs.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Three years.” He continues to write. “Off and on.”
“When you’re not playing football?”
“Yeah. Summers and pre-game.” He hands me back my ID. “Bexley Rebecca Anastasia