CHAPTER ONE
ELLA HAMMOND OPENED the front of the tent and took a deep breath.
The amenities were sparse, but the view was spectacular. Just beyond the grassy hill of the campsite, the Pacific Ocean stretched far and wide. She leaned out and craned her neck toward San Miguel Island. Five miles northeast, it boasted steep cliffs and an intricate network of sea caves. She couldnât wait to explore the area by kayak.
âRise and shine,â Ella said, nudging her sister.
Abby Hammond, formerly Dwyer, rolled over and reached for her cell phone. She never left home without it. âI feel like I slept five minutes,â she said with a groan. âItâs almost seven already.â
Abbyâs seventeen-year-old daughter, Brooke, was the tentâs third occupant. She roused at the sound of voices and sat up. Her eyes were puffy from sleep, blond ponytail askew. âAny word from Dad?â
âJust a text message,â Abby said. âHe says heâs sorry he couldnât get away and heâll make it up to you soon.â
âHereâs my response,â Brooke said, raising her middle finger.
Abby took a photo of the rude gesture and pretended to hit send. The three of them dissolved into giggles. Brooke had planned the fatherâdaughter trip months ago. When he backed out, Ella and Abby stepped in.
It wasnât an uncommon occurrence. Ray had a booming plastic surgery practice in Los Angeles and a history of last-minute cancellations.
Ella was happy to spend the weekend with Abby and Brooke. Since Abbyâs divorce, the three of them had been inseparable. Ella had lived with them for four years while she attended college.. Sheâd helped her sister through the hard times and had watched her come out stronger on the other side.
Yesterday afternoon theyâd taken a charter boat from the mainland to Santa Rosa, one of southern Californiaâs Channel Islands. Today theyâd visit San Miguel, an uninhabited nature refuge that was only accessible by sea. Although Brooke was the real adventure lover, Abby enjoyed kayaking and Ella had a particular interest in volcanic rock formations. They were all looking forward to the excursion.
Ella put on her hiking shoes and emerged from the tent. It was sunny and bright without a cloud in the sky. Other campers milled about. Her stomach fluttered when she saw their guide a few sites over. Theyâd met on the boat dock in Santa Barbara. Heâd smiled at her in an admiring way, as if he found her attractive.
She wasnât used to attention from guys like him, especially when she was standing next to Abby and Brooke. Maybe the guide flirted with every female in his vicinity. Some men cast a wide net.
While she watched, he set a small kettle over the flame on a propane stove. He was wearing the typical camping attire of knee-length shorts and a long-sleeved gray shirt. And with his tawny brown hair and lean physique, he reminded her of a surfer.
He glanced up suddenly and caught her gaze. Flashing that same smile at her, he lifted his hand to wave. She waved back, flushing. Then she whirled around and almost ran into Abby, who was studying her with amusement.
âThatâs our guide,â Abby said, waving. âWhat was his name?â
âPaul.â
âHeâs hot.â
âYou think so?â
âYou donât?â
A faint sound emerged from Ellaâs throat, like a chair leg scraping across the floor. If anyone deserved to have fun with a cute guy, it was Abby. Sheâd been involved in a safe, stagnant âfriends with benefitsâ relationship for more than a year. In Ellaâs opinion, her sister was using that arrangement to avoid meeting other people.
âYouâre single,â Abby pointed out.
âSo are you.â
âHeâs too young for me.â
Ella rolled her eyes. Younger men hit on her all the time. âYouâre thirty-five, not eighty.â
âHeâs clearly into you.â
âMaybe he has vision problems.â
âYouâre adorable and you know it.â
âHeâs not my type.â
âYour type needs a makeover.â
She couldnât deny that. Ella had met her last boyfriend in one of her science classes. Heâd been a video game addict who spent too much time indoors.
âKayaking does a body good,â Abby mused.