It Comes In Waves by Erika Marks Page A

God,
those eyes
.
    â€œGood morning,” he said.
    She nodded, as if he’d asked a question. “Hello.”
    â€œJoin me?”
    â€œI can’t,” she said, looking around. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”
    â€œI know.” He smiled. “Me.”
    Claire blinked at him. What had he said?
    â€œYou didn’t give me a chance to introduce myself last night.” He stuck out his hand. “Gus Gallagher. Owner of Fins, and proud sponsor of
To the Extreme
.”
    Only after Claire had slipped her fingers reflexively into his and accepted his shake did she realize what this meant. Their last exchange, the disparaging comments she’d made about the store that he’d overheard—about the owner. A phony!
    Claire yanked her hand free, the heat of embarrassment soaking her cheeks. “You should have said something.”
    Gus pointed her to the empty seat across from him. “I would have but you rushed off.”
    She frowned, sitting down. “How much time does it take to keep someone from looking like an idiot?”
    He leaned forward. “In my defense, you made it kind of hard for me to come clean. You weren’t exactly complimentary.”
    â€œAnd if you think I’m going to apologize now and pretend I didn’t mean every word, you can forget it.”
    â€œI wouldn’t expect you to. You were being honest. I like honest women.”
    Good Lord. She stared at him. “Are you
flirting
with me?”
    He chuckled. “If you have to ask, I must not be doing a very good job at it. Can I get you a coffee?”
    Claire moved to stand. “I can get my own.”
    â€œSit,” he ordered, already up and stepping around the table. “How do you take it?”
    â€œCream,” she consented, sitting back. “Just cream.”
    He wove through the crowded tables and Claire watched him, glad for the free moment to cool the rising temperature of her skin. God, what
else
had she said at the bar? She tried to remember and decided it didn’t matter anyway. She stood by her opinions. Just watching the way Gus Gallagher smiled and backslapped his way to the front of the line was proof enough that he was more salesman than surfer. On his return, a woman at the table adjacent to theirs reached out to stop him. Gus obliged her request for an embrace, leaning down enough for her to press a kiss against his cheek.
    She gave him a flirty shove. “I’m so mad at you!”
    Claire rolled her eyes and dug into her purse for her phone, hoping to avoid overhearing their conversation, but the woman’s admiration—and volume—was too effusive to be ignored.
    â€œYou promised you’d take me out on my new board last week, remember?”
    â€œI know I did,” Claire heard Gus say, “and I’m sorry. Things got crazy at the store and I’ve been flat out with all these side projects.”
    â€œHow’s Margot doing? She get her cast off yet?”
    â€œAnother week,” Gus answered. “Man, she’s ready.”
    â€œI’ll bet. So, when’s my rain check?”
    â€œI’ll call you.”
    â€œOkay, but I’m leaving for Oahu in two weeks, so promise you’ll make it soon.”
    Claire glanced over to see the woman stroking Gus’s arm, her hand lingering longer than Claire suspected Margot-who-was-another-week-in-a-cast would appreciate.
    Men.
    Gus returned and set down Claire’s coffee in front of her. She scooped it up, hungry for the caffeine. “That was Liza back there,” he said, nodding over his shoulder as he lowered himself into his seat. “I promised her a surf lesson. And trust me, she needs it.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “She might be
the
worst surfer I’ve ever seen.”
    Claire smiled tightly over her cup. “Then she’s a lucky woman to have your
expert
instruction.”
    â€œI’m sure