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“She’s my mom,” Brooke said in an annoyed voice.
Abby hooked her arm around Ella’s neck. “This is my sister.”
“My mistake,” he said with a smile. “Good looks clearly run in the family.”
As he lifted his kayak and carried it to the water’s edge, Abby arched a brow at Ella. He was smooth—Ella would give him that. He’d already won Abby over. Her sister grabbed her kayak and followed him to the shore.
“Where are you from, Paul?”
“San Diego.”
“Really? So are we.”
“I live in Oxnard now,” he said, naming a suburb of LA.
Abby elbowed her. “Ella just moved to Northridge.”
“Oh yeah? We’re practically neighbors.”
She set her kayak on the wet sand, feeling self-conscious.
“What brought you to this area?” Abby asked.
“I came with a girlfriend.”
“How did that work out?”
“It didn’t.”
“How terrible,” she said brightly.
He shrugged. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Ella climbed into the cockpit and secured the spray skirt around her waist as the others did the same. They pushed off the sandy beach into the rollicking surf. Launching a kayak wasn’t easy, but for a trip like this it was a necessary skill. Ella appreciated the fact that Paul expected them to get started without his assistance. Within moments, she was breathing hard, her arm muscles working as she paddled.
The physical difficulty of paddling past breaking waves prevented Abby from continuing her interrogation. It was obvious that she considered Paul a catch. Ella hoped her sister wouldn’t make any more pointed remarks.
Abby meant well. She thought Ella needed to get out more, and she was right. Ella spent too many hours staring at a computer screen, pondering theories and studying graphs. Even when she wasn’t indoors, she lived inside her own head. She was socially awkward. Most of her interactions with the opposite sex were platonic.
It was a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, however. Abby acted as if Brooke was her entire world and she had no room for romance. In reality, she was gun-shy. Ray’s betrayal had split up their family and broken her heart.
Paul led them east along the shore of Santa Rosa before he turned north. Ella’s pulse raced with excitement as they headed toward San Miguel. The four-mile gap of open water between them was a dizzying expanse, conjuring images of lurking predators. She wished she hadn’t watched so many episodes of Shark Week.
They’d gone less than a mile when Paul paused mid-stroke. He’d been looking over his shoulder at regular intervals, checking their progress. Ella glanced back to see what was wrong. Brooke and Abby were no longer paddling.
“Okay?” he called out, patting his head.
Brooke patted her head.
Abby didn’t. She was as white as a ghost.
CHAPTER TWO
ELLA MADE A swift circle, moving in Abby’s direction. Paul was right by her side.
“What happened?” Ella asked, coasting toward her.
“I think I’m seasick,” Abby said with a cringe. Her skin was pale, and a fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead. Her lips trembled as she spoke. “I started feeling queasy as soon as we hit the open water.”
“You look terrible,” Ella said.
“Thanks,” Abby replied sourly.
“I’ll tow you to the dock,” Paul said. “You’ll feel better on land.”
“I can paddle back on my own.”
His expression was apologetic. “I can’t let anyone separate from the group. We use the buddy system.”
Abby took a sip of water, groaning.
“I’ll take her,” Brooke said. “I can tow her if it comes to that.”
“I don’t need to be towed,” Abby insisted.
“We should stay together,” Ella said. “This is your trip, Brooke.”
“I don’t mind,” Brooke said, waving a hand in the air. “See the caves. I’ll be just as happy lounging on the beach.”
Ella was reluctant to leave her sister and niece. She would have offered to escort Abby back to camp instead of Brooke, but Brooke couldn’t continue the journey with Paul. Minors had to be accompanied by adults.
“Go on,” Abby said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Is that okay with you?” Ella asked Paul.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll radio Ramona and have her meet you two at the dock. That way we’ll know you arrived safely.”
Brooke and Abby said their goodbyes and paddled away.
Ella frowned at the quick retreat. “She’s never been seasick before.”
“It’s not uncommon,” he said. “Kayaking in open water isn’t the same as boating or even kayaking near the shore.”
Ella watched the pair glide over the ocean’s surface. Abby’s stroke appeared strong. Her niece looked back and waved at Ella, grinning. “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect them of matchmaking.”
He laughed, giving her an assessing glance. Abby hadn’t been subtle, so he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed. “My sister does that.”
“Older sister?”
“Yeah. She set me up on an online dating site last year.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said, neck flushing.
She couldn’t imagine why his sister thought he needed help meeting women, but his chagrin over it was adorable. “How did it go?”
“Well...I’m still single.”
Not due to a lack of appeal on his part. He got better looking every time she studied him. His golden-brown hair and suntanned complexion set off his dark eyes. He had a killer smile. She bet he had to beat them off with a stick.
Wait. Was he telling her he was single for a reason?
Before she could ask any more questions, he continued toward San Miguel. They traveled at a brisk pace, reaching the southern edge within the hour. The island was similar to Santa Rosa, majestic and wind-carved. Steep cliffs melded into grassy hillsides, speckled with wildflowers. Most of the coastline was jagged and unwelcoming, like a gate to keep humans out.
“That’s Prince Island,” he said, gesturing with his paddle.
Ella studied the moss-covered crag in the distance. “Where are the sea caves?”
“Just around the corner.”
When his radio beeped, he picked it up to answer.
“Your two kayakers have arrived, safe and sound,” the woman said.
“How do they look?”
“Great. They’re eating a snack.”
“Thanks, Ramona. Over and out.”
Ella was relieved by the news. She didn’t think Abby had faked her illness, but she wondered if the nausea was a symptom of anxiety. Her sister had suffered from panic attacks for several years after the earthquake. Crossing the open ocean might have triggered another one.
They passed Prince Island and Cuyler Harbor before arriving at a gaping hole in the side of an immense cliff. The cavern was a hundred feet tall and twice as wide.
“Wow,” Ella said, enthralled.
He handed her a helmet and donned his own before paddling through the entrance. “They call this room the cathedral.”
Ella was mesmerized by the beauty of the cave, with its porous volcanic surfaces and hanging moss. No stalagmites or stalactites were in sight, but a rich vein of gypsum ran across the far wall. Paul led her through the ocean fortress into narrow tunnels and turquoise waters. He pointed out a number of spiny sea urchins and starfish in the shallow tide pools. It was a gorgeous hideaway of sea creatures and dripping rock.
She snapped a few photos, although she doubted her disposable waterproof camera would capture the magic. “I wish my niece could see this.”
“I’m doing another trip tomorrow with two couples. She can come along.”
“That’s generous of you.”
He studied her face, as if he found it more interesting than the interior of the cave. “What do you do in Northridge?”
She paused before answering. Abby had once said, half-joking, that her profession scared off men. But only insecure knuckle-draggers were intimidated by smart women. She wouldn’t put Paul in that category, but he was a physical guy. For the first time in her life, she was tempted to downplay her intelligence.
He was that hot.
“Take a guess,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
“Are you a student?”
“No. I graduated already.”
“An actress?”
Her mouth dropped open. There were a lot of aspiring actresses in LA. She couldn’t believe he thought she was one of them.
“Not an actress,” he surmised.
“Why would you think that?”
He didn’t answer, seeming worried that he’d insulted her.
“Is this your full-time job?” she asked.
“No, it’s a summer gig.”
“Maybe you’re an actor. A model for outdoor apparel who bartends in the evenings and waits tables during the day.”
“No,” he said, frowning. “God, no.”
She laughed at his disgruntled expression.
“Do I look like a model for outdoor apparel?”
“Kind of. Yeah.”
“Well, you look like a movie star.”
“I do not.”
“Natalie Portman.”
Ella had heard that once or twice before. It was unbelievable, but flattering. “You have a thing for Queen Amidala?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your favorite Star Wars?”
“The Empire Strikes Back.”
“I prefer the new trilogy.”
