For a moment I can’t move. I feel a sense of helplessness, almost hopelessness, and then I shake it off. I’m not going to feel that way. I’m thirty-nine. An adult. A woman. I can do what I want.

Can’t I?

To the left of the hotel, I see a shaded beach services desk with a bright blue awning advertising surf lessons. I stop at the desk and ask about the lessons offered, and the guy behind the desk, wearing a sleek silver name tag (“Tommy”) is handsome, muscular, and tan, and has an English accent.

The effect, I think, looking at him yet again, is disgustingly, disarmingly attractive. “You’re from the U.K.?”

“Leeds,” he answers.

“I didn’t know Leeds was a surfing hot spot.”

Tommy laughs. “Not the best surf conditions, no.” He points to the rate sheet. “Have anything in mind, love? Private, semiprivate, group lessons?”

I stare blindly at the rate sheet, wishing Kai would appear and save me from this because I don’t want a surf lesson at all. I just want to talk to him again. I want to feel whatever it is I felt at the pool, and what I felt was warm and hopeful and dizzying.

I liked the dizzying part immensely.

“Um, private?” I say, because I can’t think what else to tell him when I’m trying so hard to find a way to ask about Kai.

He taps his pen at the rate sheet. “It’ll be seventy for an hour. Is there a particular instructor in mind?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll sign you up with Kent. He’s free—”

“Actually, I did meet someone.” I’m blushing. It’s so immature, and I feel so immature. But there you have it.

He waits, his expression betraying nothing, yet I think I can’t be the only woman who stumbles to the desk in search of some bronzed, handsome surf god. “Kai,” I whisper, willing my voice to be stronger. “His name is Kai.”

Tommy from Leeds doesn’t openly crack a smile, but there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes. “Right. Kai.” Tommy doesn’t look surprised that I’ve mentioned Kai, and he peruses the schedule. “Well, your friend Kai’s all booked for the rest of the day. Let me see how tomorrow looks.” He turns a page, studies the next schedule. “Ah, Kai’s a popular one—he’s an elegant surfer, you see, has class—and he’s booked all day tomorrow, too. Anyone else you have in mind, love?”

No. Just Kai.

I shake my head, and I must look pitiful because charming Tommy from Leeds makes little clucking sounds.

“If I weren’t busy, I’d take you out myself.”

My blush returns, deepening. I now feel embarrassed as well as ridiculous. “It’s okay. I was more curious than anything. Thanks.”