He lifted a shoulder. “If the shoe fits…”
“Well, I like puppies and nice guys like Cory,” I added. Even though I was lying. I much preferred Finn.
“You’re a dog person?” he asked.
“Some dogs.” I smiled and pictured Mom’s dog running through the yard with a pink bow around its neck. “I like the little terrier my mom has. She’s cute.”
“Do you miss home?”
“Yeah.” I nodded and swallowed hard. “I mean, it’s been less than a week, but I definitely miss certain things. Although it’s nice being on my own. Making friends. Surfing. Riding a motorcycle.” I hesitated. I wanted to tell him more about myself. Wanted to trust him. “I couldn’t do that stuff at home. There were too many eyes on me all the time.”
“Too many eyes,” he said softly. “That doesn’t sound fun.”
“It kind of sucked,” I admitted. “My dad is kind of…important in his company. He’s in politics, and with politics…people are always watching.”
He cleared his throat. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“I didn’t trust you before.” I met his eyes and bit down on my lip. “I do now. I’m hoping it’s not a mistake.”
“It’s not,” he said, but his eyes looked shaded with something I couldn’t name. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to keep a low profile. I look a lot different than I used to, and I was lucky enough to be out of the media for the last year. Hopefully it stays that way.”
“So, you’re like a Kennedy?”
I laughed. I wasn’t nearly so high up on the political food chain, nor did I want to be. “Hardly so glamorous.”
He elbowed me in the ribs. “I like the idea of being friends with a Kennedy. It sounds impressive, don’t ya think?”
“No,” I managed to say with a straight face, but then I ruined it by laughing. “I’m not as cool as them.”
“I think you’re just fine the way you are,” he said. “How did you manage to come here without security?”
My breath caught in my throat, but I refused to read into that too much. “Dad wanted to send private security with me, but I refused. He probably sent some out here anyway, knowing him.”
He tugged on his hair. “Do you think he’d do that?”
“I know he’d do that.” I played with the string on the side of my bikini bottoms, not wanting to look at him when I told him this part. “They’re probably watching us right now.”
He gave an uneasy laugh. “If so, they’ll probably kick my ass for taking you surfing.”
“If they’re smart, they’ll never show their faces.”
He snorted. “Should they be scared of you?”
“Scared of how I’ll react? Yes.” I stood up and held out my hands. “I want to be normal. Have normal fun and kiss normal boys. Study late at night and party occasionally. Is that so wrong?”
“Whoa.” He stood up and grabbed my hands. “I didn’t say it was.”
“I know. Sorry.” The righteous anger seemed to disappear, leaving me as deflated as a leaky balloon. “I get all worked up when I think of those sickos out there, following me around. Watching everything I do. I mean, get a life. Who in their right mind takes a job watching someone else 24/7? It’s like being a glorified stalker if you ask me.”
He gave an uneasy laugh. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee and forget all about the men possibly watching us.”
“All right.” I took a deep breath and dropped one of his hands. “This time, it’s on me.”
He stiffened. “I’d rather—”
“And so would I. We’re not dating. We’re friends, and friends split bills.”
He hesitated. “They do,” he admitted. “I have to ask. Why is it you never had friends?”
“Uh…” I nibbled on my lower lip. “Well, not many of them passed by Dad’s scrutiny. If their parents had even a whiff of scandal attached to their names, we were done hanging out. The few who did pass were major bitches.”
“Ah.” His fingers flexed on mine. “What about boyfriends?”
“Please,” I scoffed. “Do you really think they passed Daddy’s test?”
He flinched. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse. I stopped trying after tenth grade.”
“What about in Europe?”
“Not a chance.” I tightened my grip on his hand. “I had security with me the whole time. I met a cute Italian boy while I was there, but that was it.”
His thumb stroked the back of my hand. “Ciao, bella.”
“You speak Italian?”
“Nope. That’s all I know,” he admitted, laughing. Dropping my hand, he stopped at the coffee stand and propelled me forward with a hand splayed across my lower back. “Ladies first.”
My cheeks went all hot, and my body all tingly. From a simple touch. “Uh, a nonfat iced mocha, please.”
“I’ll have a black coffee,” he said, smiling at the barista.
The barista almost dropped the cup in her hand, then dipped her head low. I rolled my eyes, but realized I probably looked that stupid around him half of the time. I shook my head. “Don’t you ever branch out? Try something new?”
He eyed me from under his shades. “I like my coffee black.”
“Did you ever get a mocha or a latte?”
“Nope.” He shuddered. “I don’t drink girly coffee.”
“It’s not girly. Besides, if you’ve never had it, then you can’t know that you don’t like it.” I headed for the end of the counter. His hand stayed on my back, as if he didn’t want to let me go. And I didn’t want him to let me go. I pulled a twenty out of my bikini top and handed it to the cashier. It had actually stayed dry.
“Because I know.” He cleared his throat. “Did you seriously just take money out of your bra to pay?”
“It’s not a bra. It’s a bikini.” I shot him a grin over my shoulder. “But yeah. Strippers do it, why not surfers?”
He grabbed my coffee and handed it to me. “Did you know two out of six dollar bills have been shoved down a stripper’s G-string at one point in time?”
“No.” I shuddered. “Thanks for that.”
I dropped all the ones I’d gotten back into the tip jar and walked toward our bench. Our surfboards still sat there. God, I loved California. In D.C., they would have been gone within seconds. I could get used to this place. Used to the way of life. Especially the cute surfer boys who came with it.
“So, you ready for school to start tomorrow?” he asked, blowing on his coffee as he sat down beside me.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I held out my drink and pressed my straw to his lips. “Take a sip.”
He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “No.”
“For me?”
His eyes flashed. “You don’t play fair.”
“I’m the daughter of a politician. What did you expect?”
“Touché.” He leaned in, closed his lips around the straw, and took a sip. When he pulled back, he swallowed. “It’s not too bad, I guess, but I’ll stick with my black coffee.”
“Hm.” I lifted the cup to my own lips and sipped. I couldn’t help but think that my lips were where his had just been. I wished he would kiss me again. Wished he would stop being all honorable and stuff. As I pulled back, I flicked my tongue over the tip of the straw. “Tastes good to me.”
He leaned in, his gaze on my mouth. I held my breath, waiting to see what he would do. Waiting to see if he’d stop fighting and start kissing, but he froze a few breaths away from me. “It’s okay.” He leaned back against the bench and took a long swig of his coffee. “So, what else are you doing today, Ginger?”
Hello, change of topic. “I have this thing,” I mumbled.
He sat forward. “What thing?”
“Does it matter?”
His gaze pinned me down. Made it hard to concentrate. “Yes. Friends tell each other their plans.”
“What are yours?”
“I’m going to lay around in my boxers and watch TV all night. Maybe drink a few beers.” He pointed at me with his coffee. “Your turn.”
I was too busy picturing him in his boxers to fight him. “I’m going to the soup kitchen to help serve Sunday dinner.”