should he? Dressed in a stiff, floral sundress, Claire no more looked the part of a surfer than did the shorebirds that skittered around them.
Fifteen minutes later, when Foster came in to check on her, unable to hold it in any longer, she made her confession to him.
âGet the heck out!â he cried. â
You
surf?â
Claire lifted her chin. âI surf.â
âShow me,â he said.
âNow?â
âWhy not now?â
âI donât have a suit,â she said.
âNo problem. Iâll get you one from my shop. Well, technically itâs my
momâs
shop,â he added sheepishly. âItâs where everybody hangs out. Itâs kind of like our extended family. Itâs just up the beach.â
Ten minutes later, Claire was stepping into a brightly painted cottage packed with customers. Music blared and voices rose to be heard above it. Claire followed Foster as he snaked through the crowds and the cluttered aisles of merchandise, pointing. Up ahead, a loud group of men in their twenties, most of them barefoot and shirtless, flocked around the counter.
âWhatâs up there?â Claire asked.
Foster grinned at her over his shoulder. âMy mom.â
Sure enough, when they got closer, Claire could see a woman with nearly waist-length kinky blond hair shining through the masses.
Foster shoved his way through the crowd. âHey, yâall, break it up, break it up!â
Good-natured laughs ensued as the crew slid apart to let him in, taking turns slapping him on the back. The blond woman darted over the counter, arms out, and pulled Foster in for a long hug. When she released him, he turned and motioned for Claire to join them.
âClaire, this is my mom, Ivy. Mom, this is Claire. Claire says she can surf and Iâm not letting her go back to her fancy house up the beach until she proves it.â
The two things Claire noticed when the woman reached out her hand in greeting were her beautiful cornflower blue eyes, the same shade as her sonâs, and the tattooed purple and navy vines dotted with richly colored poppy blossoms that ran down the arm sheâd extended. âAtta girl! This world needs more of us women blowinâ these know-it-all men out of the water. What kind of board do you use?â
Claire looked at Foster, stunned and thrilled at the question. While she knew there was a whole world of sizes and shapes, sheâd only ever used one.
âA long board,â she answered.
Ivy nodded. âFoss, honey, ask Jerry to give her Mikeâs. Claire, look on the wall for a suit you like,â Ivy said, gesturing behind her. âTake your pick.â
Claire reached first for a simple navy one-piece, then stopped, seeing a bright red one behind it. Why not? A little color never hurt anyone. She changed in the stockroom, left her clothes in a tangled pile in the corner, and met Foster outside, where he waited with two boards.
âWow.â
His face lit up. âYou look totally hot. Like a little spicy red pepper.â
Sheâd ride like one too, Claire decided as they walked down the beach toward the waves. Sheâd ride as if her life depended on it and make his jaw drop.
At the waterâs edge, Foster steered them to where the breaks were best.
âYour mom is really cool,â Claire said as they walked into the water.
âSheâs the best. Everybody loves her.â
âSo, whereâs your dad?â
âIn Hawaii, last we heard.â His smile thinned, his eyes squinted harshly against the sun. âHeâs got this whole new family out there. Like, five kids. I donât hear from him, and I donât want to.â Foster turned to her, his smile back again. âYouâre gonna blow my mind, arenât you,
Pepper
?â
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
F rom the minute she got up on her board, Claire did just that. Whether her talent was a product of luck or the
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