“Jules!” the voice called again, louder this time.

The woman he’d almost kissed jerked her head in the direction of the sound.

Whoever was calling wasn’t visible from where they stood on the beach. But the person sure could yell. “Looking for you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah,” she confirmed absently.

“Your name is Jules?”

“Julia, actually.”

Jules—Julia—was staring at him with a shell-shocked expression similar to the one he’d bet was stamped on his face.

“Jules!”

They both jumped.

“There you are!” A woman with a trim cap of black hair appeared over the rise. In addition to being loud, she was fast, and in moments she’d reached them. “Feeling better?”

“Much, yeah.”

“You weren’t feeling well?” The question came out of his mouth before Luke even realized he was asking it.

“Oh.” She glanced back at him. The question seemed to surprise her too. “Just a bit of carsickness.”

“Ah. That explains the crackers.”

She nodded, mouth twitching.

Luke felt a tug in his chest, as if two little strings were tied to the corners of her mouth and had hooked to his heart. When she smiled, the strings pulled tighter.

The grating sound of a throat clearing abruptly clipped those strings, and Luke remembered they were no longer alone on the beach.

“Who’s your new friend, Jules?” the dark-haired woman asked. She was staring straight ahead, which meant, Luke realized, belatedly recalling the shirt he’d left in a crumpled, seagull-soiled pile on the sand, that she was staring at his nipples.

“Um, this is…” Jules—Julia—paused.

“Luke.” He reached out a hand in greeting, resisting the urge to cover his less than impressive Nothing to see here. Why are you staring? chest again.

“Hey, Luke. I’m Andie.” She shook his hand, at least having the decency to shift her gaze to his face.

“Nice to meet you,” he said automatically.

“Same.” The girl, Andie, reached into the back pocket of her jean shorts and pulled out a notepad. She held it out to Julia. “You left your precious notepad in Kat’s car.”

“Oh!” Julia reached for it quickly.

“Precious?” Luke repeated.

“Trust me, she doesn’t go anywhere without it,” Andie assured him.

“I can understand that,” he chuckled. He had to admit, it was rather endearing to discover they shared a habit.

Andie snorted. “I just assume it’s one of the hazards of being a r—”

“Writer,” Julia said abruptly.

“A writer?” he asked, unable to resist taking a peek at her notepad. “What kind of stuff do you write?”

“Poetry, mostly.” She clutched the pad to her chest, casting a cautious glance his way.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a poet before,” Luke said.

“Me neither,” her friend Andie added cryptically.

Julia elbowed her.

“Ow!” Andie rubbed her side. “What was that for?”

“For making fun of my poetry,” Julia said through clenched teeth. She moved to elbow Andie again, but the dark-haired girl jerked back, a set of keys flying out of her pocket.