Delicious Do-Over by Debbi Rawlins Page B

giggling behind her and let herself daydream about Rick.
    There was so much more she still had to learn about him. Like how he had the money to invest in stocks. No, her curiosity wasn’t about him having the discretionary funds as much as it was about his ambition to invest. He was only twenty-nine, no steady job and obviously no steady paycheck. Yet he carried a lot of cash and didn’t seem reluctant to spend it. Which made her think inheritance, but the way he’d described his family, she didn’t think so.
    She’d done well financially, especially for someone her age, and that was the only reason she felt comfortable enough taking a risk on the new business with Mia and Shelby. But she’d scrimped a lot to build her small nest egg, and she sure never had enough to gamble on the stock market. She hoped he wasn’t trying to impress her.
    A few seconds of consideration and she rejected the idea. He wasn’t the type. Besides, he had enough going for him that he didn’t have to pad his appeal.
    The elevator stopped at her floor, and as she headed toward the rooms there were no Do Not Disturb signs hanging from either of the doorknobs. She got out her key card and let herself in, already dreading having to look in the mirror.
    Once she was inside and saw that the connecting door was open, she called out. It didn’t appear that Mia or Shelby was there.
    She had mixed feelings about not being able to talk to them. While she wanted to assure herself that they were busy having fun, she wasn’t quite ready to talk about Rick. They’d want details she wasn’t willing to share.
    After dropping her purse and the bag with the self-tanning lotion on the console table, she went straight for the shower. As she stripped, her thoughts, of course, went back to Rick. Understandable, except that her curse in life was to overanalyze everything. Didn’t seem to matter that she’d sworn up and down that this trip would be a nonthinking, hedonistic vacation.
    Sighing, she leaned into the stall and adjusted the shower spray, proud of herself for resisting the urge to look in the mirror. If she did, she knew full well she’d fixate on every single flaw, real or imagined. For once Lindsey would not allow her worst enemy to win.

    H IS HAIR STILL WET , a towel wrapped around his hips, Rick tore the price tags off the two new T-shirts and red swim trunks he’d bought at the ABC store across the street. If he ended up spending the night in Waikiki, he’d have to buy another pair of shorts, but he hoped it worked out that they could take off later for his place. The important thing was not to rush Lindsey.
    For the third time since he’d checked in to the hotel an hour ago, his phone beeped. He knew what it was, someone texting or tweeting that surf was up at Waimea, but he checked anyway, in case it was Wally. Rick had left a message for him at In Motion, checking to make sure everything was okay at the shop in case he didn’t make it out there tonight.
    Rick checked his emails, laughed at the stupid joke his ten-year-old nephew had sent him and then cursed at the price increase his polyurethane supplier was implementing in time for summer surfboard demand. The guy was a shark. No reason the cost should be going up, other than the fact he could get away with it. It really sucked because Rick wouldn’t pass on the added cost to his customers. Too many of them were local kids who busted their boards or had them jacked, and couldn’t afford to replace them.
    As it was he had more employees than the shop warranted. He rarely turned down a poor kid who earnestly wanted their own board. But he never gave anything away. He made them work around the store to pay off the cost. His financial planner had called him three kinds of crazy, but he shrugged it off. As long as the store supported itself—and didn’t suck him dry—and his surfing prize money paid the rest of the bills, Rick didn’t care.
    He set the phone aside, frowning,