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less offensive than a pair of board shorts made by the competition.” He held out a hand to the small sofa and chair. “Have a seat. Sure you don’t want a drink? I have water, pop…”
    “No thanks.” She did move toward the sofa and took a seat, perching stiffly on the edge.
    He took a seat too, on the chair adjacent, and gave her one of his most charming smiles. “So, I’m in trouble.”
    She eyed him for a few seconds then jerked her chin. “Yes, Dylan. You’re in trouble.”
    Great. Just fucking great. “Is Jackson Cole pulling the plug on me?” he asked bluntly. He leaned back, trying to appear casual, but his heart had started to beat a little faster.
    “Not right now. But you have to turn this around or they will be. One more chance.”
    He frowned. “What does that mean?”
    “It means, they sent me here to get you and bring you back to San Amaro. Next stop on the tour, right?”
    “Right.”
    “Our PR team has some things lined up to keep you busy over the next few weeks. Some charity events and good causes for you to work at. We’ll make sure the media sees you at these events. We are going to polish your image all up and put a halo on your head. And then you are going to surf your ass off and win that competition.”
    He studied her, sitting there with her hands on her knees, her spine straight. “Hey. Don’t I know you? Brooke Lowry!”
    She tipped her head to one side, lips pursed. “Took you long enough.”
    “Man! Pacific Heights High School! I can’t believe it. Now you work for Jackson Cole?”
    “That’s right.”
    “What a coincidence!”
    He really only vaguely remembered her from high school. She’d hung out with a different crowd, the kind of crowd that had intimidated him—smart and yet not geeky, they were the kids who’d run the student council, the social committee and probably a dozen other things he didn’t remember. He’d never been that much into school. He hated sitting still for any length of time and the only thing that had gotten him through had been Matt’s tutoring. He couldn’t help but remember that with fond gratitude toward Matt, even though the bastard had ended up with Corey.
    He wasn’t going to think about that right now.
    “I guess it is,” she said, shifting on the couch and dropping her gaze. “Long time no see.”
    “For sure!” Maybe being old friends would soften her toward him a bit. Except they’d never really been friends. And clearly she already knew who he was when she’d arrived there and she hadn’t exactly been…soft on him. Shit.
    He kept his smile firmly in place. “So. Tell me what you’ve been doing for the last…uh…ten years.”
    She waved a hand. “That’s not what I’m here for. We’re here to talk about you.”
    “Oh. Yeah.” His smile faded. “Look, things can’t be that bad. I’ve been having a little fun celebrating my wins, that’s all. I’m a surfer, people expect us to do those things.”
    She gave a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “Unfortunately, that’s true. That surfer counter-culture holds some appeal for certain people. However, your sponsors—or I suppose I can only speak for one right now—do not. Jackson Cole has been expanding our brands, trying to enhance our image. We don’t want a drunken stoner representing our products.”
    “That’s not me!” He gaped at her, but heat washed over him as he recalled the wild parties over the last few days. Again, shit.
    “We’re booking you on the next flight back to the States,” she said firmly. “With me. And then we have work to do.”
    “The next flight.” He frowned. “Back to San Amaro.”
    “That’s right.”
    His gut cramped, but he pulled his mouth into a smile again and sat back, crossing one ankle over the other knee. “No can do, sweetheart.”
    “What?” Now it was her turn to gape.
    He shook his head and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “No can do. I can’t go back to San Amaro right now.”
    Brooke’s fingers dug