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Okay, but I owe you breakfast.

You don’t owe me a thing. Welcome home.

CHAPTER FIVE

LUNA

It’s been nearly two weeks since the barbecue, and I haven’t seen Zach at all—not even around our small town. Even though he’s been away for years, having him back and so close by makes me want to find excuses to bump into him.

“Miss Johnson, can I have a quick chat?” Principal Michaels calls down the hallway, breaking me from my daydream. It’s five on a Friday, and all I want to do is get home and take off my bra.

“Sure thing,” I call out with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

I step into his office and close the door with a click. “What can I do for you, Ted?”

Ted’s a character I’ve always struggled to read and an intense workaholic. I’m not a hundred percent sure he even goes home on the weekends.

He folds his hands in front of him and leans back in his chair as I take a seat opposite. “We’re looking for a new head of the arts department, and from what I’m seeing, you’re the prime candidate. It's more hours, but it does come with a salaryincrease. I’ve seen the progression your students are making under your tuition, and I’d like you to take the reins overall.” He sits forward and clasps his hands together on the desk, holding eye contact. “How does that sound?”

I swallow thickly. I half expected to be hauled in here to explain why a dozen of my students’ papers are being handed back late from marking. Never this, never a promotion. “That, um, that sounds like a great opportunity. Thank you.”

A wry smile crosses his face as he leans back in his chair once more. “Excellent. I’ll be in touch about the next steps, but you’re doing a great job, Luna.”

Standing up, I grab my bag. “Thank you. Have a nice weekend.” I tear out of the office and make for the parking lot, my veins beating with adrenaline at the news.

Climbing into my car, I crank it, my phone connecting to the Bluetooth, and I dial Mom’s number. She answers in a flustered tone. “Hey Luna, I’m just in the middle of something. Is it urgent?”

Like a balloon left in front of a fire, I deflate. She’s always “too busy.”

“I-I was just calling you to let you know that I?—”

“Can it wait, honey?” she interjects.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can talk later.”

“Okay, bye!”

She’ll never change. My mom has always been the same when there’s a new guy on the scene, and the latest man in her life is taking all her time. I’m happy for her, and I’m a grown-ass adult, living in my own place, but sometimes, I wish there was room for me too.

My intention was to drive home and collapse in a heap of comfort food, but a last-minute diversion has me heading away from my house and toward the beach. I only swim in the oceanfirst thing in the morning, but that’s not why I’m going—it’s been too long since I saw him, and my curiosity has won out.

The sand warmsmy feet as I make my way down and toward the ocean. I can see Zach’s beach house, which is a good two hundred yards away, but I can’t make out any movement on the veranda.

The lapping waves feel soothing as they wash against my tired, aching feet from the busy week at school. Summer break is fast approaching, and I can’t wait to have each day to myself for the next two and a half months. A chance to do things like this and not stalk Zach.Definitely not. Because that’s just plain weird, Luna.

As I keep walking along the relatively peaceful shoreline, there are a few families packing up from their day at the beach, and it’s not lost on me that now I’m in my early thirties, I’m still no closer to having a family of my own, which is something I want. One day. When you’re an only child and your parents separate, it limits the size of your family in a big way. A family I’ve craved my whole life.

A tall broad figure is in the distance, running at a glacial pace across the sand.

Oh. My. God.It’s Zach, shirtless and dressed only in a pair of Scorpions training shorts.

As he moves closer, he clearly recognizes me and starts waving. His thick, muscular, tattooed upper body glistens with sweat, and when he gets twenty feet from me, I can seeand appreciatethe destination of those droplets. They trickle straight down below his low riding waistband, where a dustingof brown hair begins and leads to places I’m sure many women have dreamt about,including me.

“Hey,” I say, keeping my tone as unaffected as possible. But really, all I want to tell him is how his name rhymes aptly withsnacksince that’s exactly what he is.

He lifts his backward cap from his head and runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair before replacing it.Jesus.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you down here tonight. Is there another barbecue or something?”