mattered to him, his praise mattered to her. She basked under his admiration, but letting it go to her head would be beyond foolhardy.
She couldn’t do this. Fall under his spell. Again.
She wasn’t the same naïve girl any more. This time she had no doubt if they had another fling it would end the same way.
All the whispered words in the world wouldn’t change the facts: Archer lived for his freedom; she lived for making Nora’s lifespan—what was left of it—as comfortable as possible.
Their goals were worlds apart.
With their lips almost touching, she wrenched out of his grasp and took a few backward steps.
‘Callie—’
She couldn’t bear the confusion warring with something deeper in his eyes, so she did the only thing possible.
She turned and ran.
‘WHAT do you think?’
Callie stared at Archer’s ‘little’ surf school, not quite comprehending how the plans and architectural impressionist photos she’d used for the pre-website had morphed into this sprawling complex perched on a sheltered bluff metres from the ocean.
‘It’s absolutely breathtaking,’ she said, doing a three-sixty, taking in the whitewashed main building, the dorms with bright blue doors, the storeroom large enough to house her apartment three times over, and the supplies shop tucked to the left of the entrance.
‘You designed all this?’
His mouth quirked. ‘Don’t sound so incredulous. I’m not just a pretty face.’
She grimaced at his lame line. He laughed. ‘Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.’
He snagged her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and she clamped down on her first urge to ease it away.
She’d done some hard thinking after she’d bolted from the beach earlier. Confiding in Archer about her mum’s illness last night, allowing him to hold her, welcoming his comfort, followed by their closeness on the beach that morning, had solidified what she’d already known deep down.
That spending time with him, albeit for work, had the potential to crack open the protective wall she’d erected around her heart.
The fissures had appeared with his kisses, and they’d well and truly fractured last night, when they’d sat on that damned deck until the sun set. Throw in that moment on the beach today and...trouble.
That was another thing. He’d been quiet last night, attuned to her need for silence while still holding her. He hadn’t prattled on with small talk designed to distract. He’d just held her, his arm wrapped solidly around her waist, his cheek resting lightly on the top of her head.
He thought she got him? The feeling was entirely mutual and that was scarier than any reawakening feelings she might be experiencing.
He’d been like that in Capri—attuned to her moods and desires after only just meeting. It was as if they’d fitted. She didn’t believe in love at first sight, or great loves, or romantic kismet—her pragmatic mum and selfish dad had ensured that—but her connection with Archer eight years earlier had defied logic.
He’d anticipated what she’d wanted back then—more Chianti, a cotton shawl for their evening walk, another swim—but his intuition beyond the physical had impressed her the most.
He’d tuned in to her emotionally, on some deeper level that had made her truly comfortable with him in a way she’d never been with another guy. They’d talked for hours. Usually about inconsequential stuff, childhood anecdotes, secret dreams, and she’d never recaptured that magic with any date.
It had made their break up all the harder.
They’d both had open-ended travel tickets and hadn’t discussed moving on. While the end of their holiday idyll had been inevitable, she’d expected to stay in contact. And a small part of her had hoped they’d reconnect in Melbourne one day.
But all that had ended when he’d told her the blunt truth: she’d read too much into a holiday fling. What they’d shared was nothing more than a bit of fun and she needed to lighten up before she scared off more guys.
His harsh words had hurt. Devastated her, in fact, and she’d never understood how the guy she’d grown so close to in such a short space of time could shut down emotionally and walk away without looking back.
She’d do well to remember the past before those cracks and fissures around her heart disintegrated completely.
Thankfully he hadn’t mentioned her bolt up the beach after their almost-kiss, and she’d been working double time to pretend everything was fine.
She’d finish out this week without him knowing how he still affected her if it killed her.
She pointed at a sign with her free hand. ‘I still can’t believe you called it Winki Pop Surf School. Sounds like something out of a kid’s fairytale.’
He feigned indignation. ‘I’ll have you know Winki Pop is one of the best surf breaks around here.’ He chuckled. ‘Besides, it has a better ring to it than some of the other breaks around here.’
‘Like?’
‘Southside. Centreside. Rincon.’
‘I see your point. It does have a certain charm.’
‘’Course it would, with me as the owner.’ He winked. ‘Mr Winki, that’s me.’
She groaned at his terrible joke, his carefree laughter reminding her of another time they’d swapped banter like this, a time she’d treasured before reality set in.
She listened closely as they toured the school, taking mental notes. The smart thing to do would be take out her iPhone and dictate ideas, or pull out the trusty notepad she kept in her bag.
But both activities would involve releasing Archer’s hand, and for now her blasé act depended on it. Easing her hand out of his would probably have him asking what was wrong, and if it was connected to earlier on the beach, and yada, yada, yada. She just didn’t want to go there.
When they reached the store shed he unlocked the door and flung it open. ‘Ready to put the master touch on the online forums you suggested?’
Confused, she glanced inside the shed lined with surfboards and wetsuits of all shapes and sizes. ‘Not sure what you mean.’
His wicked grin alerted her to an incoming suggestion she wouldn’t like.
‘If you’re going to be the moderator of the school’s online forums, you need to know what it feels like to surf.’
The incoming missile detonated and left her reeling. ‘Me? On a surfboard? Out there?’ Her voice ended on a squeak as she pointed to the expanse of ocean a short stroll away.
‘Yeah. And no better time to start than now.’
Like hell. She loved swimming, loved the ocean, but no way would she klutz around like a floundering whale in front of him. Learning to surf had always been on her life’s ‘to do’ list, but here, now, with him?
No flipping way.
She snapped her fingers. ‘Sorry, no bathers. Maybe next time—’
‘I’m sure we stock your size.’
His gaze roved her body, assessing, warming, zinging every nerve-ending along the way.
Before she could protest further he placed a hand in the small of her back and propelled her forward.
‘Come on. You said surfing was on your bucket list. No time like the present to tick it