moving and lowering themselves in a rhythm only they understood.
“Mommy, why do penguins eat fish for breakfast?” Coco yelled from down the dune, where she was doing cartwheels in the sand and inspecting the prints her hands and feet made.
“Is this a joke or a serious question?”
“A joke.”
Giselle tried to remember whether she’d heard this one as she adjusted a towel around her shoulders.
“Um . . .” She steadied her camera for the next shot, searching for Rabbit.
Why do penguins eat fish for breakfast,
she mused, trying to think of the answer but mostly trying to get Rabbit’s mop-top in her viewfinder.
“Because doughnuts get soggy,” said a man’s voice behind her.
Giselle whirled to see Fin blocking the morning sun, boasting the same-style short-sleeved wet suit that Rabbit had worn, although Fin’s arms and legs filled it out more considerably. A bright blue surfboard was beneath his arm, and the morning light caught him beautifully on the side of his face. He smiled at Coco. “That sounds like one of Rabbit’s jokes.”
“That’s
right
,” said Coco. “You’re the
winner
. You win a
prize
.” She galloped around him in a circle.
“A prize?”
“Um . . .” she said. “A shell. Just a minute.” She shuffled her feet through the sand to search.
Fin turned toward Giselle and raised his eyebrows.
His hair was wet, standing on end, as if he’d just pushed it up with his hands. The damp edges at his neckline curled around the high neck of the wet suit. She had the strangest urge to reach out and touch it.
Instead, she forced her attention to her camera, hoping the air would cool the heat in her cheeks. She raised the lens. Zoom. Frame . . .
“Whoa,” he said, putting his hand up. “Hold on. What’s that for?”
She lowered the camera.
Because you look like a god,
she thought. “The light is great on you,” she said instead.
“I don’t like having my picture taken.”
Giselle tried to wrap her mind around that. How could you look as good as this guy, with those made-for-a-camera teeth, and not like to have your picture taken? Plus, as a pro surfer, he must certainly be used to being in the limelight.
“Rabbit and the boys out there?” he said, peering out at the surf.
“Yes,” she said, still mulling over the last point.
He nodded toward her camera. “Is this for Rabbit’s brochure?”
“Yes, but why don’t you like having your picture—”
“Are you a professional photographer?”
She couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed by that or impressed. “It’s just a hobby. Lia mentioned Rabbit might need help.”
“Well, if Lia recommended you, I’m sure you’re good.”
Giselle bit her lip.
Lia recommended me because I’m her sister and she feels sorry for me
. She turned, instead, toward the water. “So were you out there? I didn’t see you.”
“I usually do a morning session down there, by my house. The swells are good here, though.” He gazed at the water longingly.
“Have at it,” she said, motioning toward the waves.
She was curious to watch him. After watching Rabbit and the boys this morning, she was eager to see, now, what Fin could do out there—how he could defy nature with the strength in his legs, push up off the board with the power in his arms. She wondered what he would look like, taming what seemed untamable.
“Too many people.” A strange flicker went across his face. “So about our agreement—we didn’t get a chance to talk much after the party. You’re still okay with it?”
“Yes.” She glanced up to see whether perhaps he was changing his mind.
Coco came bounding up from the side, her palm outstretched. “It’s broken, but it’s the prettiest I could find.”
Fin bent forward and gingerly picked up the small piece of shell she had in her hand. “An abalone.”
“Bologna?”
Fin laughed.
Giselle couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see the life come back into his face.
“Abalone.
“Mommy, why do penguins eat fish for breakfast?” Coco yelled from down the dune, where she was doing cartwheels in the sand and inspecting the prints her hands and feet made.
“Is this a joke or a serious question?”
“A joke.”
Giselle tried to remember whether she’d heard this one as she adjusted a towel around her shoulders.
“Um . . .” She steadied her camera for the next shot, searching for Rabbit.
Why do penguins eat fish for breakfast,
she mused, trying to think of the answer but mostly trying to get Rabbit’s mop-top in her viewfinder.
“Because doughnuts get soggy,” said a man’s voice behind her.
Giselle whirled to see Fin blocking the morning sun, boasting the same-style short-sleeved wet suit that Rabbit had worn, although Fin’s arms and legs filled it out more considerably. A bright blue surfboard was beneath his arm, and the morning light caught him beautifully on the side of his face. He smiled at Coco. “That sounds like one of Rabbit’s jokes.”
“That’s
right
,” said Coco. “You’re the
winner
. You win a
prize
.” She galloped around him in a circle.
“A prize?”
“Um . . .” she said. “A shell. Just a minute.” She shuffled her feet through the sand to search.
Fin turned toward Giselle and raised his eyebrows.
His hair was wet, standing on end, as if he’d just pushed it up with his hands. The damp edges at his neckline curled around the high neck of the wet suit. She had the strangest urge to reach out and touch it.
Instead, she forced her attention to her camera, hoping the air would cool the heat in her cheeks. She raised the lens. Zoom. Frame . . .
“Whoa,” he said, putting his hand up. “Hold on. What’s that for?”
She lowered the camera.
Because you look like a god,
she thought. “The light is great on you,” she said instead.
“I don’t like having my picture taken.”
Giselle tried to wrap her mind around that. How could you look as good as this guy, with those made-for-a-camera teeth, and not like to have your picture taken? Plus, as a pro surfer, he must certainly be used to being in the limelight.
“Rabbit and the boys out there?” he said, peering out at the surf.
“Yes,” she said, still mulling over the last point.
He nodded toward her camera. “Is this for Rabbit’s brochure?”
“Yes, but why don’t you like having your picture—”
“Are you a professional photographer?”
She couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed by that or impressed. “It’s just a hobby. Lia mentioned Rabbit might need help.”
“Well, if Lia recommended you, I’m sure you’re good.”
Giselle bit her lip.
Lia recommended me because I’m her sister and she feels sorry for me
. She turned, instead, toward the water. “So were you out there? I didn’t see you.”
“I usually do a morning session down there, by my house. The swells are good here, though.” He gazed at the water longingly.
“Have at it,” she said, motioning toward the waves.
She was curious to watch him. After watching Rabbit and the boys this morning, she was eager to see, now, what Fin could do out there—how he could defy nature with the strength in his legs, push up off the board with the power in his arms. She wondered what he would look like, taming what seemed untamable.
“Too many people.” A strange flicker went across his face. “So about our agreement—we didn’t get a chance to talk much after the party. You’re still okay with it?”
“Yes.” She glanced up to see whether perhaps he was changing his mind.
Coco came bounding up from the side, her palm outstretched. “It’s broken, but it’s the prettiest I could find.”
Fin bent forward and gingerly picked up the small piece of shell she had in her hand. “An abalone.”
“Bologna?”
Fin laughed.
Giselle couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see the life come back into his face.
“Abalone.
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