checking in, Paul! Have a great trip. Over.”
Somewhat mollified, Abby left her cell phone in the lockbox. He secured it with a key he wore on an elastic band around his wrist.
“Are you two sisters?” he asked, glancing from Abby to Brooke.
Abby’s face, which had grown tense, relaxed at the compliment. She was young for a divorcee with a teenager, and she took excellent care of herself. It wasn’t the first time a charming man had asked her this question.
“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.
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