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

“Sorry,” he explained sheepishly. “The alarm on my 53

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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 oill 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-54

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brush and jotted her phone number in blue oill 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 at her one last time before turning and jogging back up the beach.

Julianne wiped sand off her arms and turned back 55

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toward her easel, determined to keep her cool and not check Remi out as he jogged away. She picked up her paintbrush and got exactly two strokes onto the canvas before she just couldn’t resist. Trying to be as subtle as possible, she turned slowly and looked for him on the horizon.

She spotted his lanky figure several hundred yards in the distance. Her eyes locked on to him just in time to see him place his surfboard gently on the ground, dust himself off, and walk right through the giant glass door of the Moores’ giant glass house.

56

Chapter Four

!

Several hours later, Julianne was still in shock. Every part of her churned in confusion, even as she tried to focus her attention on hanging out with Chloe.

She’d thought that some quality sister-time would be just the thing to help her get it together.

“I mean, he’s still pretty perfect, though,” Julianne mused out loud. “Isn’t he?”

Chloe swept her hair off of her shoulders into a high ponytail and then adjusted the drawstring on her pink-and-yellow-striped lounge pants. “All I know is that we’re never going to a party where they only have PBR

ever again,” she mused. “Think about it—crappy beer, crappy guys. They go hand in hand. From now on it’s good drinks or bust.”

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“Things went that well with Michael, huh?” Julianne chucked a pillow at her sister.

“Like I said, crappy beer, crappy guys. He seemed like such a sweetheart in physics lab.” Julianne picked at the spots of dried paint still clinging to her hands as she considered her response. “Well, you know, clearly it’s time to start paying less attention to physics and more attention to chemistry.”

“Oh Lord, Jules. Stick with art, okay? Because comedy? Not your thing.” Chloe tried to look miffed, but her hazel eyes were laughing.

“When did it start going downhill?” Julianne flopped onto her back and stared up at the floral border edging its way across the top of Chloe’s bedroom walls.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . about half a second after he told me that I was pretty good at physics ‘for a chick.’ ” Chloe’s heart-shaped face screwed up into a horrified grimace. “I’d say it was a pretty quick descent to rock bottom from there.”

“No way!” Julianne squealed, popping bolt upright again. “There’s no way—he couldn’t have actually said that!” She tossed another one of Chloe’s smooshy throw pillows at her sister for emphasis. “Wait, did he actually say that?”

“How could I possibly make this up?” Chloe lobbed the pillow back at Julianne’s head. “What part of ‘arrogant jerk’ isn’t coming across clearly here?” She paused 58

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and gnawed her left thumbnail thoughtfully while Julianne continued to stare, wide-eyed. “Good thing he’s not a communications major, I guess,” she said, sighing finally.

“You mean, because he should really never talk to anyone ever again?” Julianne asked, laughing, before taking a swig of water. “I mean, honestly—ew!”

“Julessssssss!” Chloe wailed. “Why is every guy I meet a complete loser? Are there no guys on the entire West Coast who aren’t completely sketchy? And you—” She turned her attentions toward Julianne. “You cannot even think about things going any further with Remi!”

“But . . .” Julianne snapped open her mouth in protest. “He’s . . .”

“I know, I know.” Chloe cut her off decisively. “He’s smart, he’s hot, he’s funny, blah blah blah. So are lots of other guys. But you know what he’s got that other guys don’t? Parents who are trying to bulldoze our beach. I wouldn’t mess with that, Jules. Crazy runs in families.”

“Not everything runs in families, Chloe. Dad has green eyes, and neither of us do. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, right? Besides, if you’d seen him this afternoon . . . oh my God. He completely got everything I was saying about painting. And his surfing lesson was pretty much the hottest thing ever. And—”

“Okay, points duly noted.” Chloe was all business.

“So you’ll have some awesome memories. But you can’t 59

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keep seeing him. There’s no way it can go anywhere good.”

“But why not?” Julianne pressed.

“Because he’s one of them, Jules. He’s a McMansion Moore. His parents are terrors. They are the living embodiment of bad news.” Chloe was on a roll. “And that house! Can you honestly imagine someone living in that glass house who isn’t a complete and total jerk?”

“He’s not a jerk,” Julianne said quietly, feeling both absolutely certain of it and utterly confused.

“Maybe not yet. And maybe he won’t turn out to be as complete a jerk as his parents, but still, nothing good can possibly come of dating him. The Moores are nothing but trouble.”

“Can we please change the subject?” Julianne pleaded, her head swimming.

“Yeah, of course.” Chloe’s tone was bright again and Julianne felt herself relax instantly. “But promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

“Sure. Of course. Seriously, don’t worry about it,” Julianne assured both her sister and herself. “We have the entire summer to meet guys who don’t completely suck. Forget guys, even. I have an awesome job working for Bill’s crew. You’re going to be over at the children’s hospital—surrounded by hot med students, might I add—