Curvy Girls Can't Date Surfers
Chapter One
April
I’ve never had a dog in my life. But here I was, walking our new neighbor’s golden retriever down a foggy private beach.
We’d only moved to California two days ago so my dad could get better medical care, but my mom was determined for me to “get out there” and find my community, despite the fact that military brats didn’t find community—they just learned the ropes well enough to last until their next move. And my next move was only a year away.
A seagull landed a few feet away, and Heidi yanked at the leash, nearly dislocating my elbow in her chase.
“Heidi,” I scolded, hanging on tighter to the leash. “Leave that poor bird alone.”
She glanced back at me just long enough to show her smile and shake out her shaggy golden coat, completely unbothered by my chiding.
This dog was going to be the death of me, and it was only day one.
I slipped out of my sandals, hooking the straps in my free hand, and let my feet press against the hard, wet sand along the shore. Living on the beach was new for me. My dad had been stationed in Hawaii when I was only five, and I remembered the squishy mud more than anything else. Other than that, we’d bounced around bases in the South and the Midwest for all of my childhood.
The salty air stung my nose, still cool this early in the morning. Tiny beads of moisture hydrated my skin, and I could feel it making my wavy hair grow wild. I wondered what I looked like to all the people who lived in these beachside houses. Surely they knew how out of place I was.
Each home was bigger than the next with wide windows and massive patios facing the water. Part of me still felt uneasy here. This was our first big home since Mom’s online business exploded—before this, we’d always lived on-base. Nothing like our new three-story home just blocks from the water.
A dark spot appeared in the fog ahead, and I braced myself to say hello, maybe meet one of our new neighbors.
An older guy came into view, a smile on his tanned face. “Morning,” he said.
I nodded in reply.
As soon as he passed me, I let out a relieved breath. A quiet walk was exactly what I wanted.
Heidi yanked on the leash again, the loop slipping from my hand, and she took off at a sprint into the fog.
“Heidi!” I yelled, panic filling my voice. I couldn’t lose the Pfanstiels’ dog. Not the first day. They’d hate my family for as long as we stayed here. “Heidi, come back!”
I took off after her, barely able to see her through the fog. I had no idea what had caught her attention, but I swore I’d bury it if I ever found out.
“Heidi!” I yelled, already breathing hard.
I was not a runner. Not even close.
She splashed into the water, covering her coat, and went under a wave.
“Heidi!” I screamed. I could swim, but not well enough to save an eighty-pound dog. Not that I was close enough anyway. She had to be at least two hundred yards away.
Her head popped above the water, just as a surfer came in on a wave. He crashed off his board to dodge her, saltwater flying around them and showering around her golden head.
The guy came out of the water, his black curls soaked, his dark eyes on the dog. He circled his muscular arms around her, lifting her from the water. Waves crashed against his back as he walked her back to the shore, Heidi in one arm, his board in the other. The closer he got, the more of him I could see—tan abs, board shorts slung low on his hips, strong legs with a sprinkling of dark wet hair.
He got out of the water and grabbed on to her leash while undoing his surfboard from his ankle and easily tossing it farther ashore.
Realizing I was staring, I looked down at the ground and walked to them as quickly as I could, trying to catch my breath. My chest was still heaving when I reached them.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I was so worried about her.”
“You shouldn’t have let her run off like that,” he snapped, folding his arms across his muscular chest. “I almost hit her with my board. We both could have been seriously injured.”
I jerked my head back at his attack. “Like I lost her on purpose? The dog took off on me!”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Then maybe you should’ve been paying more attention.”
“I should have been paying more attention? Maybe you shouldn’t be surfing on a day with low visibility! There could have been kids out here!”
He quirked a cocky eyebrow. “At seven on a foggy morning?”
I narrowed my gaze. Did this guy think he owned the beach or something? Because last I was told by our overly perky realtor, it was HOA property. “Heidi has as much of a right to be here as you do.”
He scoffed, turning his head to the side. “You’re referring to yourself in third person?”
I grabbed the leash from his hand. “Heidi’s the dog,” I snapped, tugging the wet dog back toward her owners’ house.
“My apologies, Heidi,” he called after us. “Wouldn’t want to confuse you with a reckless pet owner.”
If I were five, I would have stuck my tongue out at him. But I’d just turned eighteen, and I was livid. So I lifted my middle finger in the air and kept walking away, wet, traitorous dog in tow.
