Forbidden Boy Abbott, Hailey (books to read in your 30s txt) 📖

shoulders. Julianne was shocked and giddy—it was like he could read her mind. The heat of his body touching hers seemed to electrify the air, and Jules half expected the wooden legs of her easel to go up in flames.

“So, you surf?” she asked, breaking the silence with a question she could have answered herself.

Remi laughed. “No. Not at all. I just carry around this surfboard to impress the ladies. It was pretty awkward in Seattle, but I think it could work magic down here.

What do you think?” he joked.

“Oh, yeah,” Jules replied, looking from the surfboard to Remi’s bathing-suit-clad body. “Definite chick magnet.”

“How about you?” Remi asked, turning his head toward Julianne. “You’re a California girl. Do you surf?”

“I’m okay,” Julianne admitted, shrugging, “but not great. My best friend, Kat, is a fierce surfer, though.” Her blue eyes sparkled wickedly as her gaze locked with Remi’s. “Maybe you could show me a few moves? Help improve my game?”

Remi took his arm down from around Julianne’s shoulders and gestured toward his board. “Have time for a lesson?”

Julianne felt the tiniest bit shy as she peeled off her tank top and lay down on Remi’s board. “Okay!” she called over her shoulder. “Surf school is now in session.”

Crouching next to her, Remi laughed. “So, show me how you usually paddle out.”

Julianne windmilled her arms above her head, imi-tating her freestyle stroke. She could feel the muscles of her back moving as she fake-paddled, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She also couldn’t ignore the irony of Remi, who was new in town and from a city basically devoid of ocean and sunshine, giving her pointers on surfing. Not that Julianne minded. Sneaking a glance at Remi, who was paying complete and total attention to each movement of her arms, Julianne didn’t mind one bit.

“Good,” Remi instructed. “Now, push up!”

Julianne tucked her arms back within the perimeter of the board and, in one strong, fluid motion, used them to lift herself off of her stomach and onto her feet. Once she was up, she readjusted her bandana, put her hands on her hips jauntily, and turned to Remi. “How am I doing, Coach?”

“Your form’s pretty good,” Remi answered earnestly, standing up. “I think you might want to use your upper arms a little more when you’re pushing up, though. It’ll give you more momentum. Can I show you?”

“Sure. Do you want to demonstrate, or …” Julianne trailed off.

“Nope. Get back down on the board, and I’ll show you, as you’re doing it. That way you can feel it while it’s happening,” Remi suggested.

Giggling silently, she hopped back down onto her stomach, already giddy with anticipation. She situated herself on her stomach in the middle of the board. Remi leaned across her, and Jules shivered slightly, both from his shadow creeping across her back and from the proximity of his body to hers.

“Okay, now move your arms in like you’re going to push up,” Remi instructed. As Julianne began drawing her arms inward, she felt his hands on her shoulders. She was momentarily afraid that her arms would give out under her, and she’d belly flop on the surfboard. Talk about embarrassing! “Now,” Remi coached, his hands never leaving her shoulders, “move your arms a little bit farther apart, and try pushing up again.”

As Julianne prepared for her second try, she heard a series of quick beeps, and Remi’s hand suddenly flew off her shoulders.

“Crap!” Remi muttered. Julianne rolled over and looked up at him.

“Sorry,” he explained sheepishly. “The alarm on my cell went off. I’m supposed to be home for dinner with my folks in ten minutes. I guess I, um, lost track of time.”

“Then I guess I should get off of your surfboard,”

Julianne suggested regretfully. Why did it feel like they were always interrupted before the best part?

“In a minute,” Remi agreed, sliding down next to her.

He lifted one hand to Julianne’s cheek and wiped away some sand. “But not quite yet.” He leaned in and softly planted another mind-numbing kiss on Julianne’s lips.

Jules felt her pulse quicken as she kissed him back. This was definitely the best part.

Reluctantly, Remi pulled his lips away. “Um, I guess I should be getting home.”

Now it was Julianne’s turn to act on instinct. “In a minute,” she said. She scrambled up off the surfboard and dashed over to her abandoned easel. She grabbed one of her tiny paintbrushes and dunked the end in blue oil paint. “So it might be possible that I, maybe, lost your phone number on the beach the other night.”

Julianne approached Remi with the paintbrush. “Maybe.

A little bit.”

“Oh, really,” Remi said, feigning offense.

“And it’s definitely possible that I don’t want to make the same mistake twice,” Jules continued. She reached over and took Remi’s arm by the wrist, turning it so the underside of his forearm was facing up. “So this time, I’m giving you my number.” Julianne took the paint-brush and jotted her phone number in blue oil paint along the inside of Remi’s arm.

“That tickles,” he protested halfheartedly.

“Yup,” Julianne responded in mock-seriousness. “I know. And it will until it dries. So the tickling will remind you to put my number in your phone.”

“Very clever.” Remi laughed. “I love a girl with fore-sight.” He leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the cheek, as if to illustrate his point. Julianne sucked in her breath involuntarily. Even his kisses on the cheek made her shiver.

“So I guess you’d better head home, huh?” Julianne asked.

“Guess so. And I guess you’d better get back to painting before you lose the light?” he replied.

“Guess so,” she answered, even though she’d forgotten about the painting entirely. “Call me sometime?”

she asked, half teasingly.

“Absolutely.” Remi smiled. “If for no other reason than because I don’t have any turpentine in the house—

your number will probably be on my arm for the rest of the summer,” he joked, picking up his surfboard.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Jules grinned back.

“Enjoy dinner.”

“Thanks! See you later.” Remi smiled