Delicious Do-Over. Debbi Rawlins

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      “Small risk?” She let out a laugh.

      He grinned. “Ah, right, the pension plan.”

      “Having no income until we make a profit?” she said defensively. “Excuse me, but that’s more than a small risk.”

      “You’re right.” He held up his hands. “My bad.”

      “What about you? What have you been doing?”

      “A lot of surfing lately, though we’ve probably seen the last of the really big waves for the season.”

      “I meant work.”

      “I know.” He paused, watched Keoni schmooze with his customers. “The prize money for competition surfing is pretty good. It usually carries me through the year.” He shrugged. “Since I’m flexible, I spend a few months on the mainland, see my family, go skiing.”

      The questions in her eyes multiplied. No surprise there. He was twenty-nine. Most people figured at that age a man should settle down, start thinking about a career, family. They weren’t necessarily wrong, but he had too much to do yet.

      “Weren’t you an engineering student?” she asked, more curious than judgmental, which he appreciated.

      “Yep, got my degree, checked out the job market, managed to get a few offers.” He took a swallow of beer. “But I just couldn’t see myself sitting in an office watching the clock.” He leaned back. “You look surprised.”

      “I am. You seemed excited about going into engineering.”

      Rick chuckled. “I was excited.” He stroked the silky smooth skin just below the hem of her shorts. “It had nothing to do with engineering.”

      She blushed. Something else he liked about her. Women didn’t seem to do that anymore. “You’re bad,” she muttered, and brought the mug to her lips. She took a small sip and smiled.

      Keoni returned, grabbing the towel that was draped over his beefy shoulder and mopped the moisture their mugs left on the bar. With a jerk of his broad chin, he asked Rick, “You ready for another one?”

      “Nah, I have to drive.”

      Keoni shrugged, saw that a customer at the far end of the bar was signaling for his check and started backing away. “How’s the shoulder?”

      “A little stiff.” Rick gingerly touched the spot where he’d gotten banged up. “Not too bad.”

      “Don’t be stupid about it, brah. You’ll end up bartending, like me.”

      Rick watched him paste on a smile for the customer and pass the man his tab. No, Rick wouldn’t end up being a bartender, forcing smiles for the tourists, even if he quit surfing tomorrow. He might be easygoing but he wasn’t foolish. He’d made sure he was set for life. Not that it was anyone’s business. The more people knew about him, the more they expected of him. He didn’t need that crap.

      “What’s wrong with your shoulder?” Lindsey asked, her eyes filled with concern.

      “I hurt it a while ago. It’s good now.”

      Her gaze touched his shoulder, moved to his chest, slid down to his belly. Then her high small breasts rose and fell with her soft sigh.

      They needed to find some privacy. “Let’s go,” he said, and she eagerly nodded.

      He pulled a twenty out of his pocket, slapped it down on the bar, anchored it with his mug and grabbed her hand.

      LINDSEY WAS PRETTY SURE the few sips of beer wasn’t what was making her light-headed. It was Rick. The feel of his palm pressing hers, the way his long lean fingers curled possessively around her hand, the warm masculine scent of his body, all of it made her squishy inside. She liked that he’d shaved recently, and that his jaw was nice and smooth, and the cleft in his chin so prominent without whiskers to detract from it.

      Even the glossiness of his sun-kissed hair in the sunlight and the bronze glow of his skin got to her in a surprisingly primal way. He had perfect posture, too, which was almost as important to her as good hygiene. She had fairly stringent requirements when it came to men, she suddenly realized. Or had she been comparing her subsequent dates to him?

      No, that wasn’t possible. She’d known him for one night. An incredible, earth-stopping night, but still.

      “How about we go to my place?” he asked when they were halfway back to the hotel.

      She should have anticipated this, but she hadn’t thought ahead. “How far away is it?”

      “About an hour, a little more depending on traffic.”

      Her gaze went to the horizon. It was still light out, but the weakening sun was already sinking toward the water. “It would be dark by the time we got back.”

      He tugged her closer. “You could spend the night.”

      “I can’t,” she said quickly. “We just arrived today. My friends and I—I don’t want to ditch them our first night here.”

      “Sure, no problem.” After a pause, he said, “How about I take you all to dinner?”

      “I don’t know.” Lindsey knew she wasn’t ready for everyone to meet just yet. Not until she and Rick became reacquainted themselves. Hesitantly, she said, “I can check with them.”

      “They might be busy. If I saw the Facebook thing, I’m sure a lot of other guys did, too.”

      She nodded, and dug in her bag for her phone. “I’ll text them and see what’s going on.”

      He released her hand, the abruptness startling her. Then he reached out and snatched a red Frisbee that was sailing through the air, headed straight for her.

      The two boys, who’d been tossing the disc back and forth, stared warily at them.

      Rick held on to the Frisbee while they approached the kids. “It’s too breezy and unpredictable to be playing with this on a crowded beach, guys,” he told them gently. “Why don’t you take it over there?” He indicated a strip of barren sand that stretched out between two hotels. “I’ll throw it to you.”

      He waited until they’d run toward the spot, and with a small flick of his wrist, sent the Frisbee sailing over the boys’ outstretched arms.

      “Whoa,” both kids yelled in unison, and turned to scramble after the toy.

      “I see you’ve had some practice,” she commented, quickly finishing her brief message, then pressing Send.

      “I play with my nieces and nephews when I’m home. They gang up on me.”

      “Poor baby. How many do you have?”

      “Seems like a hundred.” He shrugged, his fondness for them evident in his reluctant smile. “Five, all together. Three of them are a year apart and never run out of energy.”

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