The water was bracing but the day was warm and sunny, so it was a good mix. It was calm, hardly any waves, which was great for paddling. Once we were up to midthigh, he showed me how to sit comfortably on my knees and how to hold the paddle.

“Hold it about midshaft now. Once you’re standing up, you’ll want to grip the end.”

“Midshaft. Grip the end. I see what you’re doing there,” I muttered, struggling to keep my balance when what looked like a tiny wave actually made the board move quite a lot.

“You’re the one with the dirty mind, Chloe—I’m just trying to show you how to stay on top,” he said with a wink. “Relax a little. If you fall off, no big deal, you get back on. And if you do fall off, fall away from the board. You don’t want to smack yourself in the face.”

“This is supposed to be relaxing?” I sputtered thirty seconds later, when I did in fact fall right off.

“Once you get into it, you’ll love it, I promise,” he said, holding the board steady as I climbed back on. “Straddle it.”

“Oh, shut up,” I yelled, falling in again. When I finally made it back on and felt reasonably stable, we paddled out a bit farther. Once I felt comfortable enough to look up from my board, I took in the scenery.

He sliced his board through the water, his strong shoulders moving effortlessly as he paddled just ahead of me. His back muscular even through the wet suit. That hair, messy and tousled by the wind and the water, a dark mahogany now that it was wet.

That coastline was real purdy too.

And before long, it was time to try standing up. “Now remember: go up on your hands and knees, get steady, then slowly raise up, bringing your feet to the center of the board. Not too far back, or you’ll tip. Just find that sweet spot,” he cautioned, demonstrating the standing-up part, not the tipping. He made it look really easy.

“Hands and knees . . . sweet spot . . . Do you have a job taking late-night phone calls that I don’t know about?”

“You’re stalling,” he said, and I nodded. I took a deep breath, scanning the water for fins. Nothing.

“You can do this, Chloe,” he said, only a few feet away.

And you know what? I did. I stood up on my first try, legs trembling a bit as I wee-wawwed trying to find the sweet spot, something that really did exist. Holding tight to the paddle, I stood up strong.

“Way to go!” he yelled, and I turned to smile . . . and promptly fell into the water.

But it was okay, that was just part of it. I stood up once more, and under his careful instruction, started paddling. And before I knew it, I was totally doing it! We went out farther and he showed me how to turn slowly, and then how to make a quick turn. He fell in, I fell in—okay, I fell in many more times—but each time it got easier, and before long I was skimming the surface, making great long pulls with the paddle, flying across the water.

At one point I looked back toward the coast and realized how far out we were. It was so quiet. No cars, no buses, no radios; just lapping water and a few gulls crying overhead. It was a bit unnerving at first, feeling so far out, but then I looked to my left and there was Lucas, gently paddling next to me, grinning.

Then I really looked around. When I saw the coast, this time I didn’t see how far away it was—I saw how from this distance you could really take in the cypress groves, the twisted rock sawing at blue sky, the mossy green grass. It was the same coastline I’d been sitting on not thirty minutes before, but from this angle, it was a totally different thing. From a totally different perspective. “Thank you,” I whispered.

It was quiet enough that my words were carried to Lucas, who simply said, “You’re welcome.” And then asked, “You want to go see some otters?”

Always answer yes if anyone ever asks you that question. Because they are the cutest fudging animals on the planet. Not far from where we started was a tiny, protected cove filled with kelp beds. And that’s where we saw the sea otters, in groups, rolled up in the sea grass to keep them tethered while they ate their breakfast on their backs. Breaking open tiny abalone and mollusks on their chests, they ate while floating in the kelp bed, aware of us nearby but not bothering to hide their buffet. I could have watched them for hours, their sweet little mouths busily prying off the outer shells to get to the tasty treats inside, all the while floating on their backs.

Eventually the cold water became too much, and we reluctantly paddled back to shore. Chilled to the bone but feeling exhilarated, we plodded up the beach to the truck.

“That. Was. Amazing!” I cheered, pounding on his back in excitement as we dragged our boards up through the sand. “Seriously, anytime you want to go, let me know and I’ll be there!”

“I’m glad you liked it so much. I was a little worried you were going to freak out when we saw that fin.”

“You’re hilarious.” I stretched my arm behind me, feeling for the string connected to my zipper. “Very funny.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling his zipper down and peeling the wet suit down his torso, stopping around his bathing suit.

“No, really. You’re joking, right?” I asked. “You’re just teasing me.”

“Okay,” he repeated, a devilish look in his eye.

“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” I shuddered, determined not to let anything bring me down from this paddleboard high. Except this damn zipper.

“Want some help?”

“Please.” I held up my damp hair so he could get to the zipper. He unzipped me most of the way, and I could feel the edge of his warm, pruney thumb graze the middle of my back, just below the line of my bathing suit top. I scooted away from the warm and pruney thumb to slip all the way out of my wet suit, wrapping up in a towel that was warm and soft from sitting in the sunshine. He grinned, peeled his suit off the rest of the way, and dropped the gate on his truck, creating a place to sit.

Sitting next to each other on the edge, watching the now stronger waves beginning to roll in, he unwrapped the sandwiches he’d made while I pulled a bag of chips open with my own pruney fingers. Licking the saltwater off my lips, I looked around for something to drink.

“I’ve got soda in the cooler,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder.

Seeing it, I scrambled over the truck bed, losing my towel in the process. And as I leaned in to grab the soda, I realized I had very nearly hit him in the head with my bum.

“You want something to drink?” I asked, looking over my shoulder to see him grinning.