Out of Line (Out of Line #1)(7)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

Sister? Ouch. Guess I knew where I stood with him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” He looked at me. “What about you? Are you jailbait?”

“No.” I looked down at my cup. How much should I tell him about myself? I wanted to make friends. To be normal for once, but I couldn’t be stupid. “I’m nineteen. I took a year off and went abroad before starting college.”

He took another sip of coffee. “That’s a good idea. It’s how I would have done it, if I’d gone the college route.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries and had no idea what a friend should or should not say to that. Or if we even were friends yet. “You still could if you wanted to. Do you want to?”

“Maybe someday, when I have time.” He laughed. “Right now? I’m good in my career field.”

“Well, you never know. You might decide to go officer someday.”

He shot me a weird look. “Maybe.”

“There’s that word again.”

“It’s a good word, especially when life is filled with maybes.” He stopped in front of a surf shop on the beach. “This would be a good place to start. I can’t promise Swarovski, but there might be something pink.”

“I don’t do pink. It doesn’t match my hair.”

“Heaven forbid,” he said, holding the door open for me. “We can’t have that.”

“Darn right we can’t.” I ducked into the store and took a cautious look around. Surfboards of every imaginable color lined the left wall, while wetsuits filled up the other half. In the back, a bunch of boogie boards hung on the wood wall. Maybe boogie boarding would be a safer choice. It wasn’t too late to change my mind…

No. Not happening.

A blonde girl wearing a bikini underneath a transparent top stood behind the counter texting. She looked up when the bell on the door chimed, quickly assessing me before moving on to Finn—and staying there. She straightened and smoothed her hair. “Hello. Welcome to Surf’s Up. What can I do for you?”

Finn smiled at her a little bit too widely, and his eyes dipped far too low to be staring at her face. Jerk. “My friend here needs a good beginner’s board.”

The girl looked at me again, but quickly turned back to Finn. “The blue one in the back is good for her. Perfect size.”

“You think?” Finn walked over to the board in question and cocked his head. I followed Finn, but practically got shoved aside by the worker. I struggled to right myself before I went legs over head in the rack of wetsuits, but Finn caught my elbow without even looking my way. “You should watch where you’re going, Ginger.”

“I told you.” I tried to pull free of his grip, but he didn’t budge. “Stop calling me that.”

Finn looked at me. “Why? It’s cute.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” He dropped his hold on me and turned back to the employee, who’d been watching him as if he was her next meal. “So this will work for her?”

The employee moved closer to Finn, brushing up against him. And Finn, the perv, didn’t move away. Of course not. He was a guy. The girl ran her fingers over the board, caressing it as if it was a person instead of an inanimate object. “Yes. The lines are smooth, and the finish flawless.”

“What do you think, Ginger?”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to correct him again. No matter what I said, he would use it. “Sold. I’ll take it.”

Finn turned to me with wide eyes. “Really? That quick?”

“I don’t care what it looks like. If you say it’s good, it’s good.”

He tugged on his ear and looked at me as if I had sprouted two heads overnight or something. “All right. Next up? A suit.”

I turned to the employee, using the no-nonsense tone Dad used when he wanted shit to get done. “I’d like a blue and white one, to match the board.”

“Measurements?” The girl eyed me. “I’m guessing 32A?”

Total, petty lie. I was not a 32A, and it was obvious. “No, I’m—”

“34C,” Finn replied, grinning. “Am I right?”

I blinked at him, taken off guard by that statement. Was it normal for a guy to know that crap? “Dude. What the heck is wrong with you? And why do you know that?”

“I’m kind of an expert in the frontal area.” Finn grinned, and his eyes sparkled. “It’s my thing.”

“Obviously,” I drawled, smiling.

He shrugged. I gave the rest of my measurements to the worker, and within ten minutes we were finished shopping. I carried my wetsuit and coffee, and he carried my board for me. I headed toward the ocean, so eager to hit the water I could barely stand still, and then sat down on a bench. He eyed me, but didn’t sit. “That was a hell of a lot faster than I expected. I didn’t even bring my board with me.”

I took a sip of my coffee and watched the waves crashing on the sand. A surfer effortlessly rode one in, and a bunch more of them bobbed out in the water. They made it look so easy. So simple. I knew it was anything but. What the heck was I thinking? I couldn’t do this, could I? If my father knew…

I straightened my back. The hell with that. I was going for it. The fact that my father didn’t approve only made me want it more. Childish? Sure. Who cared? I was allowed a little bit of rebellion now and then. “Do you want to go to your place and get it?”

“I could, I guess.” He looked over his shoulder toward the road. “Do you want to wait here for me?”

“Can’t I come?”

He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “I only have a motorcycle. I’m not sure you want to ride that.”

A motorcycle? Hell to the yes. Dad called bikes donor cycles. Told me if I ever even thought about setting foot within ten feet of one, he’d ground me for life. I wasn’t ground-able anymore, was I? God, this freedom I now had was exhilarating. A girl could get used to this kind of life. “Oh, I’d love that.”

“Seriously?” he asked, looking a little pale. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I propped my hand on my hip and stood. “Why not?”

“I only have one helmet.”

“So what? I’ll be fine. I trust you.”

He looked up at the sky. “You might,” he mumbled under his breath. Then he perked up. “What will we do with your board?”