“Thanks for coming along. But I thought you were allergic to kids.”

“I guess I like them in small doses. Especially when they’re at a place like Ryder House. It’s nice to help.”

“Agreed. I’ve been really lucky in my life, and I never want to take that for granted. It feels like a special privilege to help out.”

“You’re right. I’ve heard it called a ‘helper’s high.’ Otherwise known as doing the hokeypokey.”

He chuckled. “You’re a good sport.”

“I like to think so.” She passed through the arch of beach roses and dune grass and stepped onto the sand, which was still slightly cool and damp from the night.

“We practically have it all to ourselves,” she said, enchanted by the shifting blue of the water, the slight pink tinge of the morning sky.

A few hundred yards away was a lone jogger, heading up the coast. In the other direction was a woman doing yoga poses. The rest of the beach belonged to the seagulls and sandpipers.

Logan stopped at the cabana and took out two boards, along with a couple of bars of wax. They applied the wax to the already-bumpy surface of each board.

“Okay,” he said when they finished. “Surf’s up.”

She nodded and peeled off her oversize tunic, knowing without looking at him that he was checking her out. His gaze felt like a waft of heat on her bare skin.

He didn’t even pretend not to stare. “Sunscreen?” he asked, offering her a tube.

“Thanks.” She spread the cream everywhere she could reach while he did the same. Then she donned her rash guard, a tight jersey shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves.

“You missed a spot,” said Logan. “Turn around.” He went down on one knee and smoothed his hands down the backs of her thighs.

She was startled by the sensation of his bare hands on her skin. It had been so long since a guy had touched her, she’d nearly forgotten what that felt like. And until this moment, she hadn’t realized that she missed it.

She was flustered by the time he finished and stood up. “Thanks,” she said, hoping her thoughts didn’t show on her face. She’d never been good at playing it cool.

“My pleasure.” He picked up his board. “Really.”

She followed him to the surf. The warm water swirled around her ankles in a rhythm that pulled at her, reminding her of why she loved the ocean—the steady movement, the timeless rhythm, the mysteries beneath, the raw curl of power. “Let’s go ride some waves.”

“You’re going to show me up again,” he accused.

She laughed. “Watch and learn.”

They waded out together and then mounted their boards to paddle out to the green water. The waves were aggressive, but beyond the first break, the ocean was calm, shifting with a cradling motion.