He traced his finger over it in the palm of her hand. “I used to have jars and jars of these when I was little.”

“You grew up here?”

“Yep. Santa Rey born and bred. My parents were surfers. I think my first words were surf’s up.”

She laughed, but then the sound faded. “You miss them. Your parents.”

Lifting his eyes from the shell, his gaze collided with hers. “It was a long time ago, but yeah. I miss them.”

“I lost my dad before I was even born, and I still miss him.”

“What happened?”

“He died in a car wreck. My mom…she didn’t really recover. She never settled in one place again, or with one man.”

“That must have been rough on you.”

“Not as rough as losing both parents.” She squeezed his hand.

Yeah, it’d been rough. He and his parents had lived in an old apartment building on the beach. It’d been rundown, but it had fed their surf habit. He’d remembered every second of the night their building had caught fire. Every second of hearing his mother scream in horror at being stuck in the kitchen, surrounded by flames. Every second of watching his father battle those flames to try to get to her. The fire department had been volunteer at the time. They’d done the best they could, but their best hadn’t been enough to save his parents. Their rescue effort had been a recovery effort pretty much from the start.

“Your older brother raised you?”

“He did.”

“Does he live here, too?”

“No, Caleb’s a high-powered attorney in L.A. Driven and ambitious…we’re very different.” He smiled. “He’s still after me to do something with my life.”

“Firefighting isn’t doing something?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s not going to get me fame and fortune, or into a cushy old-age home.”

“You don’t care about any of that.”

“No.”

She nodded, looked down at her fingers, then back into his eyes. “We’re very different, too. You and I.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay with that?”

Zach felt a smile tug at his mouth. “I happen to like the differences between a man and a woman.”

She let out a soft laugh. “I meant that you’re laid-back and easygoing, and I’m…not.”

“I don’t judge my friends.”

“Yeah, about that.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I have a question.”

He hoped like hell it was something like, Can I kiss you again?

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I need to walk some more.”

“Okay.” But he was saying this to her back because she’d already started walking, not along the water this time, but up the sand toward the bluffs, where they could move over rocks the size of houses. She did just that, climbing one, reminding him that she was a capable, strong woman who spent her days lifting heavy gurneys.