The kid stared, his mouth slightly open. He was ten years old, just starting to exhibit the signs of female-induced brain damage. He fumbled with the pail. “Want to see my mullet?”

“How could I resist such an invitation?” She leaned over and peered into the bucket. It was all Logan could do to keep his eyes off her tits. “That’s pretty cool,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “So, Dad, can I keep him?”

“A mullet? A freaking mullet?”

“I mean, just to watch him, you know.”

“You crack me up.” Logan tousled his son’s damp and salty head.

“You crack me down.” Charlie grinned, the exchange a familiar one.

Logan felt a wave of affection for the kid. Charlie wasn’t a little boy any longer. Gone were the round apple cheeks and high-pitched voice. In his place was a funny, smart, sometimes cheeky kid—one who was not immune to yellow bikinis.

“Just don’t let it drown,” he said.

“It’s a fish. It’s not gonna drown.”

“When you keep a fish in a small amount of water, it runs out of oxygen and could suffocate.”

Charlie’s face fell. “I’m letting him go, then.”

“Okay. That’s a good decision. Now, I need to give Darcy a surf lesson—”

“Dad.”

Logan turned to Darcy, but she was gone. Concern shot through him. Maybe she’d been swamped by a wave, caught in a riptide. He shaded his eyes to check the lifeguard station.

“Dad—”

“Not now, Charlie.” Logan’s voice was sharp with command. “I need to find Darcy.”

“But—”

“Not another word.”

At that, Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face the horizon. He pointed at something out on the water.

Holy crap. Darcy was lying prone on her board, paddling out to the break—completely alone.

Logan bolted into action, rushing through the surf and jumping on his board to paddle after her. She hadn’t even been here an hour. He’d be a lousy host if he drowned his guest.

She had somehow managed to put a good bit of distance between them. She seemed like a strong paddler, using swift, deep strokes, the kind that would give her aching shoulders tonight. When a white wave barreled toward her, Logan called out a warning—having the board swept away could be scary and dangerous.

She surprised him by sinking in front of the wave, then passing the board overhead and coming up on the other side.

Okay, he thought, his worry easing. She knew a little something about how to get out to the surf. Still, he needed to catch up with her before she reached the green water. The waves were not exactly tame today. He paddled full speed but didn’t catch her, and the noise of the pounding surf made yelling pointless. She rode up one side of a mounted wave and down the other, disappearing into a trough.